Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World

19 - Patents & Unexpected Guest

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The following morning—having slept soundly for the first time in weeks, Ethan donned his finest attire: polished leather boots, a crisp linen shirt, and a heavy furred cloak that denoted his noble status. Done, he rode on his carriage toward the structure that housed the Inventors Guild, a guild tasked with maintaining a record of inventions and ensuring no one infringed on another's creation.

Inside the Inventor's Guild, polished marble floors reflected the intricate stained-glass windows, and the air held a faint scent of parchment and ink. Given his reputation—or more like Theo's reputation—he was ushered into a spacious office, richly furnished with plush armchairs and a massive oak desk that groaned under a stack of scrolls.

Behind the desk sat Ivy, the Guild Branch Leader. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun, her eyes as sharp as the diamond ring glinting on her finger. As Ethan entered, she rose with a practiced smile. "Lord Theodore," she acknowledged with a curt nod, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Although he was sure she wasn't too pleased meeting him, he didn't bother with that. Theo's reputation preceded him, and he couldn't quite do anything about that. What he could do, however, was change others' perception of him through actions. After all, actions speak louder than words.

"Lady Ivy," Ethan said, smiling, "I've come to register a new patent—a soap unlike any other."

Lady Ivy raised an eyebrow, amused. "Soap is hardly a novelty, Lord Theodore, I wonder why you would want a patent. Several guilds already have patents on several such concoctions."

Ethan's smile faltered slightly. "With all due respect, Lady Ivy," he began, "their offering is a utilitarian block at best. This," he gestured towards a satchel he carried, "is a revelation. A luxury. This is an experience. It cleanses, it nourishes, it leaves the skin feeling like velvet."

Ivy scoffed. "High praise for a mere bar of soap, wouldn't you say?"

"May I offer a demonstration, Lady Ivy?"

Lady Ivy leaned back in her chair, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. Intrigued, Ivy conceded. "Bold claims, Lord Theodore. Let's see if this 'experience' lives up."

Ethan reached into his satchel and retrieved a beautifully wrapped bar of his soap. It was a pale pink color, infused with the subtle scent of mountain wildflowers.

Intrigued, Ivy accepted the bar and retreated to a private chamber, her skepticism evident in the way she held the bar at arm's length. Moments later, a series of muffled yelps and startled gasps echoed through the room. Ethan suppressed a smile.

On Earth, patents were a complex web of legalese, protecting the rights of inventors for a limited time. Detailed descriptions and drawings were filed, reviewed by examiners, and granted a monopoly for a limited time.

One could imagine a competition where someone—let's call him John—invented something awesome. John wanted to make money off his brilliant invention, but he worried someone would steal his idea and undercut him. That's where patents came in. Each country had a patent office, like a high-security library for inventions. An inventor filed a patent application, which was basically a detailed instruction manual for their creation. Think blueprints, schematics, the whole shebang. This application went to a patent examiner, a brainiac who checked if the invention was: new, nobody had ever done it before, not even a whisper of it in some dusty old patent document. Useful, it actually worked and did something beneficial. Non-obvious, it wasn't just a mash-up of existing things. There was a genuine inventive leap involved. If the inventor passed the examiner's test, they got a patent, which basically a government-issued golden ticket. This ticket gave them a monopoly on their invention for a set time, usually 20 years. In that period, nobody could make, use, sell, or import their invention without permission. The patent holder could sue infringers, and that was a party nobody wanted to attend. Here was the catch: to get the monopoly, the inventor had to reveal everything about their invention in the patent application. That's right, the whole world got to see how their brilliant invention worked. It seemed crazy, right? Well, the idea was that by sharing knowledge, innovation accelerated for everyone. Plus, after 20 years, anyone could make the invention, which could drive down prices and benefit consumers.