Arthur then spoke, interpreting Edric though, "Ask your final question."
The words echoed through the vast hall like a bell tolling at the end of a long duel.
Edric straightened his shoulders, his face returning to its composed state—but inside, the weight of the conversation thus far pressed heavily upon him. He could feel Lucien silently watching from his side, and the dozens of Keldorian mbers and scribes lining the edges of the grand chamber, waiting for his next move.
There would be no recovering from this conversation if he misstepped.
Edric exhaled slowly, buying himself a few seconds.
He bowed his head slightly, showing respect.
"Very well, Your Majesty," Edric said, his tone steady once more. "For my final question, I would like to ask, how was Your Majesty able to produce and sell the book for such a remarkably low price?"
The hall fell into a subtle ripple of confusion. Even the gathered scribes, who had been carefully writing every word up until now, exchanged puzzled glances. This wasn't the question anyone had expected.
After such a sharp and profound intellectual exchange about power, governance, and economic philosophy, most had expected Edric's final question to dive even deeper into Arthur's groundbreaking theories—especially the more complex and provocative ones introduced in The Theories on Economics.
There was, for instance, the Jevons Paradox — a counterintuitive concept stating that improvents in efficiency can sotis make a problem worse, not better. Arthur had illustrated how making certain resources or services cheaper and more accessible could inadvertently lead to people consuming more of them, creating new strains on the system. Like a blacksmith who invents a way to slt iron faster, only for the demand for iron weapons to surge beyond control—resulting in even greater resource depletion.
Then there was the Moral Hazard — the idea that when individuals or organizations are shielded from risk, they may behave recklessly, knowing they won't bear the full consequences. As Arthur had written, "It's like gambling with soone else's money: when you do not fear the losses, you take far greater risks." Applied to nobles, soldiers, or even governnt officials, this principle was dangerously accurate.
And finally, one of the most unsettling concepts: Ti Inconsistency — the notion that governnts, once they make promises for the future, may find it beneficial later to break those promises when circumstances change. As Arthur explained, "What benefits the state today may beco inconvenient tomorrow." Such shifting policies often erode public trust and weaken long-term stability.
These were so of the theories in the book, where in this world had ever even considered, let alone debated. And yet Arthur had already laid them out in simple, powerful language—turning what was once obscure into sothing that any noble or ruler could imdiately recognize in the world around them.
Everyone in the hall knew Edric could have chosen to probe deeper into these revolutionary ideas.
And yet… he didn't.
Even Lucien, who had stood composed throughout the eting, flicked his gaze briefly toward Edric, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic.
In truth, Edric had fully intended to ask those deeper questions.
When he had first read Arthur's book, those theories had left him utterly astonished—concepts so advanced, so utterly foreign, that it felt as if Arthur was not just decades, but centuries ahead of the brightest minds of Chronos. He had initially assud that perhaps Arthur had borrowed from foreign scholars, or inherited secret knowledge—but now, after hearing Arthur's responses firsthand, Edric was convinced.
This man truly understands everything he wrote.
And therein lay the problem.
The more Edric probed, the more certain he beca of Arthur's genius, and the wider the gap between them seed to grow. He felt a creeping sense of inferiority twisting inside him.
If he continued asking theoretical questions, Arthur would continue to answer them masterfully—effortlessly even—driving Edric deeper into his shadow. And Edric, a man who had always been respected for his intellect and sharp political mind, was not ready to expose himself so thoroughly before both his peers and his king.
No… I cannot afford to make myself appear small.
If I keep pressing him purely on his knowledge, the comparison will only worsen. The greater his brilliance seems, the smaller I beco in contrast. At least… not here. Not now. Not in front of so many eyes.
Thus, he diverted the final question away from theory—toward sothing more practical. More material. Sothing that wouldn't challenge Arthur's intellect directly or make him feel small.
Arthur tilted his head slightly, studying Edric with quiet amusent. Of course, Arthur a kind of understood why Edric had chosen to shift the topic.
Still, Arthur played along, his voice smooth. "What do you an by 'cheap,' Prince Edric?"
Edric clasped his hands behind his back as he clarified. "When Lucien first reported back from his audience with Your Majesty, he ntioned that your book was being sold to the public for rely a single silver coin. Naturally, I assud there might have been an exaggeration in his report. However, upon entering Eldoria and confirming it myself… I see it was true."
He paused briefly, as if emphasizing the strangeness of the matter.
"A comprehensive book of such groundbreaking knowledge—sold at a price that even commoners could afford? That is virtually unheard of in any kingdom. The cost of parchnt alone, not to ntion the labor of scribes and illustrators, should have made such production unfeasible without heavy subsidy."
Edric's eyes narrowed, though not maliciously. "I am genuinely curious, Your Majesty. How were you able to achieve such mass production at such a cost? Is it pure state sponsorship? Or… have you devised so entirely new production thod?"
Around the chamber, many leaned forward, equally eager for the answer. While they couldn't fully grasp Arthur's economic theories, they understood perfectly the weight of wealth and influence. If Arthur had discovered a way to cheaply produce books—a product that once belonged exclusively to the realm of nobles, priests, and scholars—it could transform education, comrce, and even political influence across the continent.
Lucien remained silent beside Edric, but even he knew: This question was no less important than the ones before it.
Arthur allowed a brief, faint smile to cross his lips.
So… now you wish to glimpse at my industrial capabilities, Prince Edric. You fear my ideas, so you seek to understand my tools.
Arthur leaned back slightly, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his lips as the weight of the entire court remained balanced on his next words. He could feel dozens of gazes fixed upon him, every scribe, and diplomat waiting to hear the secret behind his impossible achievent.
And yet, he let the silence stretch just long enough to reclaim the advantage.
Then, with calm authority, Arthur spoke:
"Before I answer your question, Prince Edric… allow to ask you one first."
Edric's brows lifted ever so slightly.
Arthur's voice rang clear across the hall, firm and calculated.
"Why should I reveal how it is done? Why should I unveil one of my kingdom's capabilities… when I do not yet know whether Chronos will stand beside as an ally—or rise against as an enemy?"
The tension in the grand hall instantly thickened. Whispers erupted in hushed corners, and even Lucien's composure faltered for half a breath.
Arthur's gaze narrowed as he locked eyes with Edric once more.
"What will it be, Prince Edric?" he asked, voice cold yet asured.
"Ally… or adversary?"
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