The streets of Keldoria's capital bustled with life as word of the new books spread like wildfire. rchants shouted their wares, children darted between legs and carts, and the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the crisp aroma of fresh parchnt. Stalls lined the busy marketplace. Neat stacks of bound volus stood in proud rows, each one promising knowledge and opportunity.
Titles in bold, black letters drew the eyes of curious passersby: "The Basics of Trade," "The Rules of the Kingdom," "Theories on Economics," "A Farr's Guide to Profitable Crops," and more. A passerby with sun-browned skin leaned over the volus, studying them with cautious interest, while rchants in fine tunics stroked their chins thoughtfully as they read the titles aloud.
The word on everyone's lips was that these books were affordable—though even then, most assud "affordable" ant perhaps three or four gold coins instead of five or six. In Keldoria, even a single book was a treasure—an emblem of wealth and learning, sothing out of reach for the common folk.
So when whispers spread that these books were being sold for as little as one silver coin, disbelief and curiosity rippled through the crowd like waves on a pond.
At one stall, a portly rchant with a bright red sash waved a copy of the trade manual high in the air. "One silver coin, good people! One silver coin for knowledge to grow your trade! Learn how to prosper, how to bargain and weigh your goods!"
Usually, the rchant at the stall wouldn't even have been allowed to touch such a book. In the past, volus like these were traded only among nobles or wealthy rchants, shared in hushed gatherings behind locked doors. But now, even the small rchants were selling them openly—an image that drew the eyes of everyone, from the fine-robed noble to the humble farr with dirt still on his hands.
A woman carrying a heavy basket of vegetables paused in front of the stall, her brow creased with disbelief. "Only one silver?" she murmured, glancing at the rchant with wide eyes. "That can't be true."
The rchant's face lit with genuine earnestness. "It's true, ma'am. His Majesty himself decreed it—every family should have access to this knowledge. It's not for profit; it's for the people."
Near the back of the growing crowd, a man nad Thorne watched with sharp, assessing eyes. Known to many as a thoughtful and well-read scholar, Thorne had always managed to find scraps of wisdom wherever he could. But he had never been able to afford a real book of his own, and the closest he'd co were second-hand pamphlets and whispered lessons from traveling traders. His long brown coat was worn thin at the elbows, and his hands were calloused from years of quiet, studious labor.
"One silver coin," he muttered to himself, suspicion threading through his thoughts. "That's less than the price of at. How can they sell books for so little?"
He watched as a burly farr, face flushed from the sumr heat, handed over a silver coin and received a book in return. The farr flipped through the pages, his eyes bright with curiosity as he traced the neat rows of text. Others leaned in to catch a glimpse too—their expressions shifting from doubt to wonder. Though the farr couldn't read very well, he had bought the book eagerly.
In the past, owning a book was a sign of status, sothing reserved for nobles and the wealthy. To own one now—no matter how simple—felt like owning a piece of that world. The thought of what knowledge the book held was almost secondary to the thrill of finally holding such a book in his hands.
The crowd swelled as word spread. Young apprentices in dusty tunics clustered close, while older craftsn with ink-stained hands peered curiously over shoulders. Even children, wide-eyed and barefoot, pressed close to see what all the fuss was about. The excitent was infectious, a ripple of wonder passing from person to person.
Thorne's brow furrowed as he pushed closer, weaving through the press of bodies until he stood at the stall. The rchant greeted him with a bright smile. "Ah, good sir! A book for you? Only one silver coin—a chance to better yourself and your trade."
Thorne picked up one of the book, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The binding was sturdy, the pages crisp and filled with clean, carefully printed words. He flipped through them slowly, testing the paper between his fingers. "The quality is real," he thought in surprise. "No cheap paper, no sloppy writing."
His eyes t the rchant's calm, honest gaze. "Is this truly the price? No tricks or hidden fees?"
"None, sir," the rchant said, spreading his hands in a gesture of openness. "The king's decree—knowledge for the people, at a price anyone can afford."
Thorne nodded slowly, his curiosity far from satisfied. His hand moved to another book—this one thicker and weightier than the others. The title, "Theories on Economics," was boldly printed across the cover. Below it, he noticed the emblem of the kingdom and, at the bottom of the page, the na Arthur Tesla—a clear sign that the king himself had authored this work.
It felt substantial in his hands, a weight that spoke not only of paper and ink but of the importance of the knowledge contained within. Thorne carefully flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the neat columns of text and pausing to read a few lines.
The more he read, the more he felt a jolt of surprise—shock, even. The theories laid out in those carefully chosen words were unlike anything he had ever heard. They spoke of comrce and trade in ways that reimagined the kingdom's economy entirely, turning familiar ideas on their heads. Thorne could hardly believe what he was reading—such knowledge had never been shared so freely in Keldoria before.
Thorne's heart quickened as he turned the pages, his eyes drawn to the neat diagrams and carefully laid-out explanations. These weren't just the idle theories of a rchant or scholar; they were the thoughts of a ruler who understood the weight of gold and grain, who saw the kingdom not as a static map of power, but as a living web of trade and ambition.
He read a few more lines, almost breathless as he took in the elegant, practical reasoning woven through each paragraph. 'This is… revolutionary,' he thought to himself, his mind racing. 'These aren't just ideas for nobles to hoard—they're tools for anyone who has the courage to learn.'
The rchant noticed that Thorne was no longer just flipping through the book but reading it in earnest. He cleared his throat softly, but Thorne didn't hear him—his eyes were locked on the pages, completely absorbed. The rchant cleared his throat again, louder this ti, finally breaking Thorne's focus.
"How much for this one?" he asked, his tone careful.
"Ah, a wise choice, sir," the rchant said, eyes twinkling. "That one is two silver and five copper coins."
Thorne raised an eyebrow. "Two silver and five copper…?" He glanced back at the crowded square, his mind spinning. "Are you sure you're selling this for so little? A book like this would normally fetch eight or ten gold coins, and even that would be considered a bargain."
He knew better than to voice that last thought—afraid it might tempt the rchant to raise the price. But curiosity burned too brightly in him to keep silent.
The rchant only laughed, shaking his head. "I know, sir. But the price was set by His Majesty, King Arthur Tesla himself. We're not allowed to raise it too high, or there will be consequences."
Thorne blinked, startled by the quiet weight behind those words. "Consequences?"
The rchant's smile faded just a touch. "The king made it clear: these books are for the people. If we try to profit too much, the punishnt will be swift and certain."
Thorne let out a slow breath, feeling a flicker of respect for the king's decision. "Then I'll take it," he said simply, reaching into his coin pouch and handing over the coins.
As the rchant wrapped the book carefully in a scrap of cloth, Thorne watched the crowd around him—the wonder in their eyes, the quiet hum of conversation, the pages of new books rustling in eager hands. He slipped the heavy volu into his satchel, feeling a sense of awe. It was as if the kingdom itself was turning a page, and he was a part of the story.
…
"Your Majesty, the books we published have beco the talk of the Eldoria—among nobles and commoners alike," Owen reported, a note of pride in his voice. "rchants are even asking for more copies, and the profit we've made so far has been significant. If sales continue at this pace for another year or so, we'll have covered the cost of manufacturing for both the linotype and printing presses, as well as the cost of raw materials and labor."
When selling the books, many rchants were proudly declaring that the king didn't care for profit, the reality was more practical. The cost of materials and labor for each book was roughly half the selling price, leaving a healthy profit margin that had already begun to repay the investnt in the cost of manufacturing the linotype, printing press and other raw materials.
Arthur nodded, listening intently. "That's good news, Owen. But do you know what could improve the sale of the books even more?"
Owen paused, frowning slightly as he thought. "Well, the books are only being sold in Eldoria for now, but soon they'll reach the other provinces, and eventually even other kingdoms. But beyond that…" His voice trailed off.
Arthur's eyes glimred with quiet conviction. "That's true, but what I'm talking about is even more important: improving the kingdom's literacy rate. If more people can read, more people will buy these books—and more importantly, they'll learn from them."
He leaned back in his chair, his voice growing more thoughtful. "As you know, Keldoria's literacy rate is only about 20 to 30 percent. That ans we're missing more than half of our potential readers and custors—people who might want these books, but can't yet unlock their value."
Owen nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You're right, Your Majesty. If we want these books to be more than just symbols—if we want them to be tools of real change—then we need to make sure more of our people can read them."
Arthur's expression grew determined. "Exactly. I want to do more than just sell books—I want to create a foundation for a new kind of Keldoria. One where knowledge is within reach for everyone, not just the privileged few."
He paused for a mont, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And beyond that, Owen, if more people can read and write, it gives us a chance to shape how they think—through these very books. We can guide them with ideas that strengthen the kingdom, that teach them how to be good citizens and skilled workers. It's a way to weave a stronger fabric for the future."
Arthur's voice grew firr. "And rember, the more people can read, the more they can contribute to Keldoria's wealth and prosperity in ways we've never seen before. Trade, business, governance—all of it will flourish when knowledge is no longer hoarded by the few."
Owen blinked, a flicker of awe in his eyes. "May I ask, Your Majesty… how do you plan to achieve this? Improving literacy across the entire kingdom is no small task."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing with plans. "It will take ti—and a considerable investnt, Owen—but I believe it's worth every coin." He paused, his eyes bright with conviction. "I'm thinking of building public schools across Keldoria. Places where anyone—regardless of their birth—can learn to read, write, and master the basics of arithtic, history, and even the beginnings of chemistry and engineering."
Owen blinked, surprised. "Your Majesty, when you say 'public schools,' do you an… you will build schools where the citizens can learn for free?"
Arthur gave a calm, resolute nod. "Yes, that's exactly what I an."
Owen looked taken aback, his brow furrowing as he considered the implications. Free education would be a beneficial for the kingdom, but the costs would be enormous—construction, maintenance, the wages of teachers and scribes. His lips parted as he hesitated, clearly torn between excitent and concern.
Seeing Owen's thoughtful expression, Arthur let out a soft chuckle. "I can see you're already weighing the cost, Owen. And yes, it will be expensive. But think of what it will bring—free literacy lessons for everyone, regardless of their birth. Of course, for more advanced studies—mathematics, sciences, or trade knowledge—we'll ask for a modest fee. Not for profit, but just enough to sustain the schools themselves."
Owen's eyes cleared, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded slowly. "I see, Your Majesty. And in the long run, that will pay for itself… citizens who can read and write will contribute more to the kingdom's growth."
Arthur's expression softened, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Exactly. It's an investnt in the minds of our people, Owen. And that's worth more than gold."
He pushed back from his chair, the conversation leaving a fresh sense of purpose in the air. "That's for the future. For now, I have other important matters to see to—like preparing to et the envoy from Chronos who will be arriving soon."
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