He took one last satisfying look over his new domain before setting off in search of some of the charcoal burners still working the land. Friedrich's new friend had suggested that they might be happy to work for him if it meant they could stay in the hills they called home.
****
Gottfried left the hill a happy man. He'd found himself a workforce who actually wanted to live and work on his hills. Now all he had to do was put together a design for the sulfite-process mill of his dreams and acquire the necessary consents.
April 1633, Saalfeld
"What do you mean, no?" Gottfried glared at the petty bureaucrat who was denying him his dream. "Why has my application been declined?"
"The quality of the water you wish to discharge into the Saale is not of sufficient standard," Nikolaus Rorer said. "His Grace has enacted regulations that demand a higher minimum water quality of all discharges into the waterways under his control."
"That doesn't seem to apply to USE Steel," Gottfried muttered, thinking of the company in which Duke Johann Philipp was known to have a major shareholding.
"USE Steel has been given until June to have their discharge water up to standard, or they will have their right to discharge water cancelled. USE Steel is subject to the same regulations as any other enterprise with existing water rights. His Grace is not playing favorites, and it ill becomes you to suggest otherwise."
Gottfried cursed his tongue. Even if he wasn't going to get the chemical discharge consent he needed, it was counterproductive to offend the person with the power to stall any subsequent consent applications he might file. "But cleaning the discharge to the standard you're demanding will make the whole project uneconomic." He had employed the Grantville wastewater treatment plant's Otto Kubala to design and cost various options. The one he'd presented to the council had been the cheapest he thought they might accept, but even that was so expensive his new paper would be barely competitive.
"Unfortunately, too many people depend on the river for us to allow any further deterioration in the water quality. However, the council is willing to grant you consent to build your mill on the Saale, just as long as you don't introduce any new chemicals into the water."
"But making paper uses all sorts of chemicals."
"The conventional sizing agents are not considered to be a problem."
Gottfried wanted to protest, but he knew it was best to retreat whilst he was ahead. "Thank you," he said, before walking out of Rorer's office.
He stopped at the reception counter and called to the young women hammering away at their typewriters. "Excuse me," he called to gain their attention, "I understand I can request a copy of the decision on my consent application?"
"That's right. Was your application successful?" the older of the two said as she approached the counter.
"No, and that's why I want to have my own copy. I want to see if there is any chance of having the decision reversed."
The older woman handed a form to Gottfried. "You need to fill out this form and pay the appropriate fee. What did your application fail on?"
"The quality of the waste water I wished to discharge."
"Oh, dear. Then I don't think you have much chance of getting the decision reversed. The council is very strict about water quality. They even insisted that USE Steel improve the quality of their waste water discharge or have their right to it revoked. Does this mean you won't be building your paper mill?"
"How did you know I want to build a paper mill?" Gottfried demanded.
The woman blushed and lowered her eyes briefly. "I was curious why anybody would want coppice wood, and asked Herr Wachter."
That blush had Gottfried paying more attention to the young woman. She was quietly attractive, and had a pretty smile. "Wood is the way of the future."
"So, are you still going to build a paper mill? I understand you can make paper out of ground-wood pulp as well as chemically pulped wood."
Gottfried's brows shot up in surprise. "You know about making paper?"
"Only what I read in the library."
"Now why would a young lady be reading about papermaking in the library?" Gottfried asked, wondering how she'd answer.
She blushed, but stayed mute, confirming Gottfried's suspicion that she had read up on papermaking because of him. He looked her up and down, adding further to her rising color, and he definitely liked what he was seeing. "I've already sunk too much into the project to just give up, so I guess I will still build a mill, even if I have to make paper that's good for nothing better than the newspapers."
"Why would the paper you make only be good for newspapers?"
Veronika-he'd finally realized her name was printed on the card pinned to her jacket-sounded indignant on his behalf, and that made him even more interested. "Straight ground-wood pulp contains something called lignin, which causes the paper to turn yellow after a few weeks."
"And nobody's going to care if their weeks old newspaper goes yellow?"
"That's right. Besides, I can make nearly twice as much paper from ground-wood pulp as I can from chemically pulped wood."
That evoked a wrinkled brow from Veronika. "If you can make twice as much paper from ground wood, why would you ever want to use chemically pulped paper?"
"Because with chemically pulped wood I can make high quality white paper that doesn't yellow as it ages," Gottfried said
"But can't you already do that using rag?"
"Yes, but I want to use wood pulp." Gottfried was most emphatic about that. Wood really was the material of the future. Rag suffered from shortages of supply forcing up the price of paper. "It would have been a fine challenge to make fine white paper from wood pulp."
"Ah, so it's an ego thing."
"There are sound economic reasons for wanting to make white paper. It commands a much higher price and . . ." Gottfried suddenly stopped talking and stared straight into Veronika's eyes. What he saw there had him pointing an accusing finger at her. "You are laughing at me."
"No, I'm not."
"A likely story." Veronika wasn't even trying to be convincing. "Just you wait. Before summer I'll be producing paper in my mill."
"But it'll be ground-wood pulp suitable for nothing but newspapers."
"Don't be so mean to the nice man, Veronika." The other woman, Catrin, if her name card was to be believed, smiled at Gottfried. "Veronika's really interested in how paper's made."
That was too good an opening to miss. "Maybe you'd both like to be shown around the mill where I work?"
"Yes, when would be convenient? Saturday afternoon?" Catrin asked.
"I'll be expecting you. Do you know where Merkel's mill is?"
Catrin nodded.
"Until Saturday afternoon." Gottfried sent one last lingering gaze over Veronika and Catrin before he walked out of the office.
****
"How could you?" Veronika demanded the moment Gottfried was out of earshot.
"It was easy. You should be thanking me, you know. You've now got the perfect opportunity to further your acquaintance with your journeyman."
"He's not my journeyman," Veronika said.
Catrin smiled. "But it's obvious he could be."
With the heat building up in her face, Veronika knew there was nothing to do but return to work, and dream about Saturday afternoon.
Saturday
Gottfried sat down outside the main entrance to Merkel's mill to await his guests. Beside him, already sitting his chair back on its legs, was Friedrich, who'd lost no time in inviting himself along when Gottfried had mentioned his guests.
"Are you sure they know where to come?" Friedrich asked.