"Now that you've seen the machines," he continued, "allow to show you how they function."
Arthur raised his hand. The staff standing nearby, already prepared, quickly moved into position with practiced ease. It was clear that this demonstration wasn't spontaneous—it had been prepared long before Edric had even set foot in Keldoria.
"Begin the demonstration," Arthur commanded.
At once, the machine operators sprang into motion.
First, molten tal was carefully poured into the feeder tanks of the linotype casting machines. The low hiss of liquid tal cooling into molds filled the air. One operator, sitting at a strange keyboard-like device, began typing at a steady rhythm. The machine responded instantly, casting entire lines of text into solid tal slugs with chanical precision.
Click. Hiss. Press. Cool.
Within seconds, complete sentences were ford, perfectly aligned for the printing plates.
Behind them, the printing presses roared to life. Massive rollers spun as fresh plates were secured into place. The workers fed stacks of paper into the machines to be pressed, and within monts, crisp pages were perfectly printed, uniform, and fast.
Thunk-thunk-thunk.
The chanical heartbeat of the room filled every corner of the vast chamber.
Edric couldn't tear his eyes away.
The machines didn't slow. They didn't hesitate. They didn't tire.
Entire pages of perfectly printed text flew into waiting baskets in a steady stream, as if so invisible sorcerer had cast a spell to conjure books out of thin air.
Beside him, Lucien's face had gone pale. The knights and mages who accompanied them stood frozen, wide-eyed, as though witnessing a forbidden form of magic.
Impossible. No scribes. No artisans. No long labor.
Just… machines.
Arthur turned slightly toward Edric as the presses continued their symphony.
"This is not simply an invention," Arthur spoke, his voice calm but carrying weight. "This is scalability. Replication. Efficiency."
He gestured toward one of the growing stacks of freshly printed books.
"One operator can produce hundreds of these in a single day. Hundreds. And when more machines are built—thousands."
Edric's throat tightened. He swallowed hard, but his mouth remained dry, as if even his body struggled to process what he had just witnessed.
He finally forced himself to speak, his voice slightly strained.
"Your Majesty… did you co up with this?" His eyes shifted toward the rows of machines. "The design? The chanism behind it?"
Arthur answered without hesitation, his voice calm and steady. "Of course. It was who ca up with the blueprint."
That simple confirmation landed like a hamr blow.
Edric's composure cracked further.
Earlier, when they had discussed Arthur's economic theories from The Theories of Economics, Edric had already been shaken by the sheer depth and originality of Arthur's thinking. Concepts like The Cobra Effect, Ti Inconsistency, Jevons Paradox, Moral Hazard—each of them had been revolutionary. As Edric heard Arthur explain them with perfect clarity, he had felt a rising sense of inferiority—one he had desperately tried to conceal.
And so, instinctively, Edric had shifted the conversation away from the theories—away from the battlefield of pure knowledge where he knew he could not compete.
Instead, he asked about the book's price—thinking that perhaps it was a simple matter of kingdom policy, perhaps a charitable act to improve literacy. At least in that area, he hoped to regain so footing, so advantage, where political reasoning still applied.
But now… even that defense had crumbled.
Never—never— had Edric imagined that Arthur had developed an entirely new technology to make the book production cheaper.
An invention so advanced that even the best craftsn of Chronos wouldn't be able to comprehend it, let alone replicate it.
The realization tore through him like a blade. Arthur wasn't simply gifted in economics. Arthur wasn't just a skilled king with clever reforms.
He was sothing else entirely.
A man whose knowledge reached across fields that most spent lifetis mastering —economics, politics, governance… and now even industrial engineering far beyond anything Edric's world had seen.
In that mont, Edric felt as though he were standing before a legend—one of those mythical figures from ancient tales who were said to be blessed by the gods with wisdom unfathomable to ordinary n.
He forced himself to steady his breathing, and thought,
Is this the knowledge of a —
Before he could finish the thought, Arthur's calm voice interrupted, slicing through the storm of emotions building within him.
"Edric… Edric?" Arthur called, his voice smooth, as if amused by Edric's montary daze.
Snapping back to reality, Edric quickly composed himself. "Apologies, Your Majesty. I was… lost in thought."
Arthur smiled faintly, his tone carrying a light teasing edge, though his eyes remained sharp.
"I was asking: if I didn't co up with the blueprint… who would?" he said, his voice tinged with casual confidence.
Edric's lips twitched into a forced smile. "Forgive , Your Majesty. I wasn't doubting."
Arthur gave a light chuckle, the tension in the air softening just enough for everyone to breathe again—though beneath that smile still lurked the ever-present pressure he controlled like a blade at their throats.
"I'm only teasing," Arthur said. "But in any case… Why don't we head back? It's rather noisy here, and I imagine our real conversation is better suited for quieter chambers."
He gestured elegantly toward the exit, leading the stunned delegation back through the humming halls of chanical marvels that none of them would soon forget.
The group slowly made their way back through the corridor, the rhythmic pulse of machinery fading behind them. But even as the sounds grew distant, the weight of what they had witnessed remained heavy on Edric and his delegation.
By the ti they returned to the grand hall, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.
Arthur ascended his throne once more with calm confidence. His steps were unhurried, his posture utterly relaxed, yet every gesture carried authority that could not be questioned.
The delegation from Chronos stood before him, far more subdued than when they first arrived.
Arthur clasped his hands before him and spoke again—his voice light, almost casual, but carrying undeniable weight.
"Well then…" Arthur's voice carried smoothly through the grand hall, his tone calm yet filled with unspoken weight, "now that you've seen what Keldoria has beco, let us return to the true reason for your visit."
His gaze locked onto Edric's, sharp and deliberate.
"Let's speak of the new agreent." Arthur leaned forward slightly, resting his hand once more upon the lion-carved armrest of his throne.
"How shall the new relationship between Chronos and Keldoria proceed from this day forward?"
A faint pause followed—purposefully drawn out.
"After all…" Arthur added with a thin, almost playful smile, "isn't this the very reason you ca to Keldoria, Prince Edric?"
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