Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World-Chapter 51: The First Printed

Arthur turned to Klein, his gaze steady and curious. "If you were in my place, how would you celebrate Ascension Day?"

Klein paused, his brow furrowing in thought. After a moment, he replied, "Well, if it were me, I suppose I’d follow tradition—just as many kings of Keldoria have done before you."

Arthur leaned in slightly, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. "And how exactly would that be?"

Klein straightened slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Your Majesty, traditionally, Accession Day has always been a grand affair, drawing nobility and influential figures from every corner of the kingdom. Throughout the day, tournaments were held—swordsmanship duels and mage contests—to display the strength and skill of Keldoria’s finest warriors.

As evening fell, the celebration would shift to the Banquet Hall, where a royal feast stretched late into the night, filled with the kingdom’s finest food, music, and performances. It was during this time that the ruler would make important proclamations—announcements that shaped the realm’s future—before joining in the revelry with their guests."

Arthur listened intently, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the armrest of his chair. That’s not a bad idea, he mused. It would give me a chance to witness the skill of our knights and mages firsthand—and observe the nobility up close.

After a moment, he asked, "And what about the common folk?"

Klein hesitated before replying, "Well, those who could afford tickets would attend the tournaments, watching the contests before returning home once the events ended."

A pause lingered in the air before Klein, cautious yet curious, ventured, "Your Majesty… are you perhaps considering allowing the common folk to attend the banquet—or perhaps holding a separate celebration for them?"

Arthur let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Klein, I may be idealistic at times, but I’m not so naive as to ignore the consequences of such a gesture. Inviting commoners to the banquet along with nobility, or even holding a separate one for them, would be seen as an insult by the nobility. Given the current political climate, that would be a foolish mistake I won’t make."

Klein’s tense expression softened with visible relief. "I never doubted your judgment."

Arthur studied Klein for a moment, reading the unspoken concern in his eyes. Only when he saw Klein’s shoulders relax did Arthur allow himself a small, knowing chuckle. "If you say so."

He then added, "Prepare everything the same for this Accession Day. Invite the appropriate guests, and as for the knights and mages competing in the tournament, ensure the selection process is thorough. There might be spies and informants from other kingdoms that might be watching the tournament as well."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will see to it personally," Klein said with a respectful bow before leaving the chamber.

Arthur, too, rose from his seat and made his way toward the workshop, where the linotype machine was being constructed.

Upon arriving, he was greeted by Owen, who had recently been promoted from overseeing the linotype project to head of Keldoria Department of Industry, Science, and Resources (KDISR), where he was now responsible for overseeing all technological advancements, industrial developments, and resource management within the kingdom.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," Owen said, bowing as he noticed Arthur’s arrival.

Arthur nodded in acknowledgment. "What’s the progress on the machine?"

Owen’s face lit up with confidence. "Thanks to the additional thirty workers you assigned to this project, we have just completed the assembly. We were about to send word to inform you."

Arthur smirked. "Then I arrived at just the right time. Good. Now, let’s run a test on the typesetting. I want to see if we need to make any calibrations or adjustments."

Owen nodded eagerly and gestured toward the massive linotype machine, where a few workers stood by, waiting for the test run. The machine, a marvel of mechanical ingenuity, loomed over the workshop with its intricate system of levers, gears, and matrices. It was the culmination of months of effort—a device that could revolutionize printing and information dissemination in Keldoria.

Arthur stepped closer, observing as one of the technicians loaded a set of brass matrices into the machine’s composing section. The matrices, small metal molds representing individual letters and symbols, slid into place with precise movements.

Arthur watched as the operator typed a test phrase onto the keyboard. The machine clattered to life, each keystroke triggering a mechanism that pulled the corresponding matrix from the magazine, aligning them into a line. When the line was complete, the machine automatically moved it to the next stage—hot metal casting.

A crucible of molten lead was then used to create a single, solid line of text, known as a slug. As the molten metal was poured into the mold, a hiss of steam rose from the cooling tray. Within moments, the metal solidified, and a fresh, perfectly formed line of text was ejected. The matrices were then sent back to their respective compartments, ready for reuse.

Arthur ran his fingers along the newly cast slug, feeling the crisp, raised letters. The precision was impressive. "So far, so good," he muttered. "Now, let’s move on to the printing phase."

The workers carefully took the finished slugs and arranged them in a printing press. Ink was rolled over the surface, coating the raised letters evenly before a large sheet of paper was pressed against them. With a mechanical thunk, the press completed its cycle, and the first test print was pulled from the rollers.

Arthur picked up the freshly printed sheet and examined it. The ink distribution was even, and the text was sharp and clear. However, he noticed a slight misalignment in one of the lines. "Owen, see this?" He pointed to the imperfection. "It’s minor, but if we mass-produce at this quality, errors will accumulate."

Owen frowned and inspected the sheet. "You’re right, Your Majesty. It might be a calibration issue with the matrix alignment or the pressure of the typecasting mold. We can make an adjustment before running another test."

Arthur nodded. "Good. Fix the alignment and run multiple test prints."

Owen signaled the team, and they immediately set to work making the necessary calibrations.

The workshop buzzed with activity as nearly seventy workers adjusted gears, and fine-tuned mechanisms. Amid the controlled chaos, Arthur turned to Owen. "Once this is perfected, let me know. I have an important document that needs printing."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Owen replied, wiping a smear of grease from his brow. "I believe we can make the necessary adjustments and have it running perfectly by day’s end."

Arthur gave a curt nod, taking the first ever printed sheet from the machine. He examined it briefly, the crisp ink and clean lines bringing a sense of satisfaction, then turned on his heel and left the workshop—each step echoing with the weight of future possibilities.

As Arthur left the workshop and made his way to the library, his mind buzzed with possibilities such as how mass-producing books could unlock the potential of the common folk, teaching them to read and write and fostering a more educated, capable society. Knowledge would no longer be the privilege of nobles and scholars—it could reach every village, every household, reshaping the very foundation of the kingdom.

But beyond education, there was an even greater prize. This technology could revolutionize government operations—streamlining the production of decrees, laws, and tax records. Bureaucracy would become swift and efficient, leaving less room for corruption and error.

And then there was the true power—control of information. With this machine, Arthur could shape public perception, direct the flow of news, and safeguard the kingdom from dangerous rumors or dissent before they spread.

A kingdom that controls information controls its future.

Arthur allowed himself a small, knowing smile as he approached the library doors. The weight of ambition still lingered in his mind, but for now, the quiet sanctuary of the library offered a brief respite.

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Inside, the scent of old parchment and ink filled the air—a comforting reminder of tradition soon to be transformed. His gaze landed on Aaron, seated near the tall windows, hunched over a book, lost in thought.

Arthur approached quietly, "Aaron, what are you reading?"

Aaron, startled by the familiar voice, looked up with a sheepish grin. "Oh—nothing, really. Just something I grabbed off the shelf to kill time."

His gaze drifted to the paper in Arthur’s hand, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What’s that you’re holding?"

Arthur glanced down at the paper, the corners of his mouth curling into a proud smile. "This," he said, holding it up, "is the result of a machine that will change this kingdom—and perhaps even the world."

Aaron blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean? How could a piece of paper do that?"

Without a word, Arthur handed the paper over. "Take a closer look. This isn’t handwritten. It was copied—by a machine. And not just one page. With this invention, a single person could produce hundreds of identical copies in just a few hours."

Aaron’s eyes widened as he examined the uniform text. "Hundreds? In hours? That’s—how is that even possible?" He shook his head in disbelief. "What is this machine? How does it work?"

Arthur chuckled, crossing his arms with the air of someone holding a well-guarded secret. "You’ll know soon enough. And when you do, you’ll see how it’s going to reshape everything—knowledge, power, the very future of Keldoria."

Aaron stared down at the page, the weight of Arthur’s words settling heavily in his mind.

Before Aaron could press for more, Arthur handed him the sheet with a casual flick of his wrist. "Keep it. I have things to take care of."

Aaron looked up, still full of questions, but Arthur was already turning away. His steps were measured, purposeful—like a man who knew the world was already shifting beneath his feet.

Arthur moved toward an empty space by the window, took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, and turned his attention back to the tasks that demanded his focus.