Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World

"If you wish," Arthur said, his voice smooth as silk, "I can arrange for you, your delegation, and even your knights and mages… to witness the process firsthand."

A ripple of tension swept through the court like a sudden gust of wind. This wasn't merely an act of generosity—it was a calculated demonstration of dominance. An invitation to glimpse into a future only Arthur controlled. He was offering a glimpse not into Keldoria's present, but into its inevitable future.

The subtle smile on Arthur's lips deepened.

"Seeing, after all," he continued softly, "may help where words fail."

Edric's mind spun wildly beneath his calm exterior. The sheer weight of everything Arthur had revealed so far threatened to shatter his composure. He wanted to decline, to preserve some degree of distance—to retreat behind the safety of polite distance.

But curiosity gnawed at him like a hungry beast. A dangerous, humiliating curiosity. This was no longer a negotiation—it was a confrontation with an entirely new form of power. One that could dismantle centuries of noble rule.

His pride screamed at him to decline. But his instincts—those finely sharpened instincts of a prince raised in courtly warfare—whispered: You cannot afford not to see this.

He took a long breath, forcing his voice steady.

"If Your Majesty is willing to allow it," Edric said, his tone as smooth as ever, "I would indeed be grateful to witness such a process. It would be… enlightening."

Arthur's faint smile widened.

"Excellent," Arthur replied. "I anticipated you might accept."

At his subtle gesture, the grand doors creaked open. A group of neatly dressed staff emerged—engineers, scribes, master craftsmen, and several trusted members of Arthur's council. Their arrival wasn't hasty; it was prepared. Every step Arthur had taken led precisely to this moment.

He planned this entire conversation, Edric realized. Every word, every question… it was a path he set before me.

But he said nothing. He couldn't.

Arthur rose from his throne with unhurried grace, descending the marble steps with Klein and Ken following close behind. The royal guards moved like clockwork, forming a perimeter as if this demonstration was not extraordinary at all—but routine.

"Come," Arthur beckoned. "Let me show you the future of Keldoria."

The delegation followed in silence, every step feeling heavier than the last. Even the knights and mages who once marched confidently behind Edric now moved stiffly, their gazes shifting nervously with each turn of the unfamiliar passage.

They descended deeper into the newly constructed industrial wing—an addition none in Chronos even knew existed. The air grew warmer, vibrating faintly with mechanical hums and the rhythmic clatter of moving gears. A low, steady hiss of steam echoed from behind thick stone walls.

Finally, they arrived.

A towering chamber opened before them, larger than anything Edric expected to see within the castle grounds.

Rows of gleaming metal machines stretched out in perfect formation. The polished brass fittings gleamed beneath the overhead lanterns, while massive iron frames stood like giants locked in eternal motion. Gears turned in perfect harmony, their teeth clicking together with a rhythmic hum that filled the air. Long steel arms swung back and forth with mechanical precision, as if alive, guided by an invisible conductor.

Dozens of workers moved quickly but methodically, adjusting levers, feeding thick stacks of parchment, and monitoring the steady flow of ink.

At first, Edric didn't even fully understand what he was looking at.

The first rows of towering machines held large rotating drums coated in heavy ink. Sheets of paper were fed between rollers and flat plates. The machines pressed page after page with unerring speed and consistency. Printed sheets poured out from the machines at a rate Edric could hardly follow with his eyes.

He had never seen anything like it.

In fact, not a single person in the entire kingdom of Chronos—perhaps not even across the entire continent—had ever seen anything like this.

The very concept of a printing press was foreign to him.

What Arthur had built here was something else entirely.

And the printing press was only the beginning.

Beyond those printing machines stood even stranger devices—far more complex. Metal molds shifted rapidly as molten metal flowed into them, instantly casting entire lines of text in solid form. Not individual letters assembled one by one, but full sentences molded at once with mechanical precision.

Edric's mind faltered as he tried to comprehend.

Operators sat before these machines, typing quickly on rows of strange levers and keys. With every tap, the machine seemed to respond—forming the exact sequence of words needed for the printing plates. Entire pages were being created in minutes.

No writing. No teams of scribes. No delay.

And when the mold was no longer needed, the metal was remelted, reshaped, and reused endlessly.

A continuous cycle of creation. Relentless. Tireless. Flawless.

The sharp rhythm of metal clattering against metal filled the massive chamber—a steady, powerful beat that almost felt like the heartbeat of an entirely new world.

How…? Edric thought, his mouth dry.

Even Lucien, the seasoned envoy who had weathered countless tense negotiations, stood rigid beside him, his well-trained diplomatic mask cracking at the edges.

To the entire Chronos delegation, this was not an invention. This was sorcery.

Yes, they had seen advancements before. Carriages, watermills, ballistae, even complex siege towers—creations that still relied on master craftsmen. Difficult, certainly. But understandable. At worst, they required rare skill and time. Given enough knowledge, even the finest craftsman of Chronos could eventually replicate such devices.

But this?

Even if they allowed their wildest imaginations to run free, they would never have conceived of what stood before them now. These machines were beyond knowledge—they were engineering in its purest form. Cold, precise, and utterly unforgiving. If even a single part was misaligned, the entire system would fail. And yet, here they stood—rows upon rows—operating in flawless, synchronized harmony.

This… Edric thought, heart sinking further with each passing second, This isn't craftsmanship. This isn't mere ingenuity. This is the reshaping of reality itself.

Arthur's voice cut smoothly through the mechanical symphony.

"This is how a single book sells for a silver coin, Prince Edric," he said. "Not through charity. But through design."

The words sliced through the silence like a blade.

He allowed the weight of his statement to settle, his gaze sharp as steel.

"And this… is only one facility. One machine shop. Soon, I will build more. Dozens more. Across every region of Keldoria."

Arthur paused, eyes gleaming.

"Knowledge will spread faster than any army can march. Faster than nobles can scheme. The world you know, Prince Edric… is ending."

The entire Chronos delegation stood paralyzed in awe, their confidence shattered.

Arthur simply smiled.

"Now that you've seen the machines," he continued, "allow me to show you how they function."