Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World-Chapter 73: Affordable Books
The streets of Keldoria's capital bustled with life as word of the new books spread like wildfire. Merchants shouted their wares, children darted between legs and carts, and the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the crisp aroma of fresh parchment. Stalls lined the busy marketplace. Neat stacks of bound volumes 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 Farmer's Guide to Profitable Crops," and more. A passerby with sun-browned skin leaned over the volumes, studying them with cautious interest, while merchants 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 assumed "affordable" meant 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, something 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 merchant 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 merchant at the stall wouldn't even have been allowed to touch such a book. In the past, volumes like these were traded only among nobles or wealthy merchants, shared in hushed gatherings behind locked doors. But now, even the small merchants were selling them openly—an image that drew the eyes of everyone, from the fine-robed noble to the humble farmer 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 merchant with wide eyes. "That can't be true."
The merchant'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 named 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 come 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 meat. How can they sell books for so little?"
He watched as a burly farmer, face flushed from the summer heat, handed over a silver coin and received a book in return. The farmer 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 farmer couldn't read very well, he had bought the book eagerly.
In the past, owning a book was a sign of status, something 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 craftsmen 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 excitement 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 merchant 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 met the merchant's calm, honest gaze. "Is this truly the price? No tricks or hidden fees?"
"None, sir," the merchant 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 name 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 commerce 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. freewebnøvel.com
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 merchant 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 merchant 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 merchant cleared his throat again, louder this time, finally breaking Thorne's focus.
"How much for this one?" he asked, his tone careful.
"Ah, a wise choice, sir," the merchant 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 merchant to raise the price. But curiosity burned too brightly in him to keep silent.
The merchant 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 merchant'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 punishment 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 merchant 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 volume 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 become the talk of the Eldoria—among nobles and commoners alike," Owen reported, a note of pride in his voice. "Merchants 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 merchants 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 investment 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 glimmered 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 means we're missing more than half of our potential readers and customers—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 moment, 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 firmer. "And remember, 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 time—and a considerable investment, 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 arithmetic, history, and even the beginnings of chemistry and engineering."
Owen blinked, surprised. "Your Majesty, when you say 'public schools,' do you mean… you will build schools where the citizens can learn for free?"
Arthur gave a calm, resolute nod. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
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 excitement 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 investment 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 meet the envoy from Chronos who will be arriving soon."
