The Vastness of Magical Destiny-Chapter 116 - 7 Gutenberg
Chapter 116: Chapter 7: Gutenberg
Chapter 116 -7: Gutenberg
“Gutenberg is known as the Garden City, and indeed its reputation is well-deserved. Although Mycenae is the capital of a kingdom, compared to this city, it feels like nothing more than a country market. Constructing such a grand and beautiful city with buildings so rich and colourful must have cost the treasury a fortune. It seems that Galle’s reputation as the most prosperous region in the Kingdom of Nicosia is indeed no exaggeration,” even the usually stern and old-fashioned Reese couldn’t help but sigh deeply after witnessing this prime and prosperous land.
“Ha ha, Mr. Reese, the prosperity of Gutenberg didn’t come overnight. Its success isn’t entirely due to its special location and fertile land. The flourishing commerce and agriculture are merely the icing on the cake. Its initial rise was thanks to Duke Zellin’s great-grandfather, Duke Gutenberg, who founded the movable printing factory. At that time, movable type printing was not as popular as it is now, but Duke Gutenberg keenly seized this opportunity. He invested a huge sum of money in setting up a printing workshop and spared no effort to promote this novel innovation in his territory. Back then, most of the continent still relied on carved plate printing, which was time-consuming and costly. The introduction and spread of movable type printing immediately sparked a printing revolution across the whole continent. Parchment and carved plate printing became relics of history, and books are now widely available on the continent thanks to Duke Gutenberg,” Komer said with a certain nostalgia. “Duke Gutenberg’s keen instinct transformed this once-unknown small town into the printing center of the kingdom and the whole continent. A myriad of books and pictorials have been continuously distributed from here. Although this period did not last very long, it was enough to lay a solid foundation for today’s Gutenberg city.”
“One man can uplift a nation, one event can uplift a nation. It seems that a single correct decision by those in power can lead a place onto a path of prosperity,” Reese, too, was captivated by the history of Gutenberg’s rise to power and spoke with a sense of reflection.
“Isn’t that the truth? But those in power also bear greater risks. A single misstep in decision-making can plunge the interest groups they represent into dire straits,” Komer said, hinting at a deeper insight, which seemed to resonate with both of them.
Although they had already witnessed the wealth of Gutenberg city, when Komer and his party arrived on time at Duke Zellin’s suburban villa to the south of the city as agreed, they were still shocked by the villa’s magnificent opulence.
It was an asymmetrical garden villa. The main door didn’t lead directly to the main building but to a huge and tranquil courtyard. To the right of the courtyard was a long row of low stables that could house dozens of steeds, and further down the edge was a broad lawn. It was created in anticipation of the master hosting large banquets and gatherings, to ensure there was enough space should the influx of horse-drawn carriages and horses exceed normal capacity. Beside the stables, there was a row of simple but very neat rooms intended for the coachmen accompanying the guests.
Passing through the spacious passage and the tall walls with openings, one officially entered the main buildings of the villa. A corridor, tens of meters in length and ten in width, led directly to the main building’s front where a circular pool was situated. Facing the pool, in its very center, stood a group of statues illuminated by magic crystal lamps, casting a multicolored glow over the entire pool. The tinkling of water and the play of light and shadow made the golden Statue of the Artistic God Apollo, who held a seven-string harp aloft, appear alive and dynamic, his bare chest and well-defined muscles thoroughly detailed. Each line under the magic lights seemed incredibly realistic and natural. Following behind him were several nude nymphs, some in startled exclamations, some tentatively hopeful, and others admiring and enraptured. They looked as though they had been brought to life by the artist’s hand.
The statues, standing magnificently in front of the main building, complemented its dignity and elegance. Anyone passing by these masterpieces for the first time would be so intoxicated that they couldn’t help but yearn for the villa behind them.
Entering through the doors decorated with large carved stained glass, one was met with a dazzling sensation. At least several representatives from the merchants of Meine and Susoer City-States gasped. Such a large bas-relief glass panel would cost no less than three thousand gold shields to even consider, and here in this foyer, a total of twelve were used just for the decoration. This expense alone could support a hundred ordinary families for a year. The handsome doormen, graceful in their mannerisms, clearly displayed years of strict training. Every move conformed to basic noble etiquette, causing the refugee representatives following Komer to become edgy, worryingly cautious not to commit any breach of propriety.
Beyond the foyer lay the expansive Grand Hall, where twelve marble columns, as thick as two men could embrace, were arranged in an arc to support the building’s dome, eight meters high. Hanging from within were dozens of crystal chandeliers. The bright candles, magnified by the crystals, illuminated the entire hall, while a faint fragrance wafted through the air, a scent Komer seemed to recognize: it came from the burning of candles made with a wick wrapped in roots of a plant from the sea, common but growing in territories frequented by the Shark people. Like other extraordinary human races, the Shark people greatly despised outsiders entering their domain, often seeking and attacking intruders until their ships were wrecked and their crews perished. Hence, such candles were produced in extremely limited quantities and were unaffordable for anyone other than the very wealthy—but not for the likes of Duke Zellin or Duke Philip, of course.
The arrival of Komer and his party did not attract the attention of the Galle nobles who were already scattered around the hall in small groups. In their view, such an unrelated matter was merely a method used by the Duke to enhance his prestige and display his benevolence, a pretext for inviting the city’s nobles to a gathering, just another routine banquet.
As soon as Komer and his party entered, they could feel the cold eyes and contempt of the nobles from all sides. Derogatory terms like “country bumpkin,” “yokel,” and “fugitive” intermittently drifted in from the surrounding noble circles. The refugee representatives following Komer were even more timid as they searched for their place among the throngs of nobles in the grand hall. It was at this moment that they truly realized how difficult and arduous it was to live in the Galle Region as outsiders. Perhaps the proud and extremely xenophobic nobles could still maintain their noble composure and rationale, but what about the ignorant and brutish farmers and citizens? With what attitude would they face the invaders who, in their eyes, had stolen their livelihoods and land?
“Lord, why is it that apart from indifference and disdain, all we see in their eyes is hostility? It seems we haven’t offended them. After all, we are guests invited by Duke Zellin, aren’t we? Wasn’t this banquet said to be organized especially to welcome us as we pass through his territory?” Somewhat puzzled, Melbourne, who had just barely managed to set a foothold within the lower ranks of nobility, looked around at those mocking gazes before quietly asking Komer, who maintained an appearance of calm.
“Melbourne Lord, you might be elevating our status a tad too high,” Komer’s face remained expressionless, his gaze coldly sweeping over the elegantly dressed nobles, “This is merely a routine noble banquet at Duke Zellin’s mansion. Saying it’s for us is just flattery, nothing more. Could it be you actually believe that our delegation is worth the Duke hosting a banquet solely for us? As for our identities, I fear these nobles have long known: rootless refugees and a bunch of common people at that. Your lordship title must have cost quite a bit, didn’t it? With the kingdom no more, and the place we’ve gone to so remote, I’m merely a minor baron. Look at the old folks here—aside from a few youngsters, they’re probably all viscounts or higher in status. How could they possibly regard us?”
Komer had seen this scenario in Cyprus all too often: high-ranking nobles looking down upon the lower ranks, city nobles despising country nobles, capital nobles indifferent to those from the provinces. Arrogance, conceit, selfishness, indifference, impulsiveness—these were typical traits of the nobles, of course, under normal circumstances. Komer himself, however, had been stained by these habits, too, but after several years of exile, he had come to deeply understand the life of a true underclass, lessening his own pride and arrogance. This change was one of the primary reasons why the representatives found this lord so approachable and likeable.
Although Komer spoke softly, the few representatives behind him heard every word clearly. Looking around at the disdainful glances directed at them, the representatives couldn’t help feeling anger mingled with insecurity.
“A man must first belittle himself before others will belittle him; if you don’t respect yourself, how can you expect others to respect you?” Casting a sidelong glance at the few behind him, the three representatives from Meine and Susoer felt a chill in their hearts. Could it be that their secret dealings with Duke Zellin were known to the other party?!
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Duke Zellin is not a fool; it’s only when some people truly fall into a trap and are unable to escape that they’ll realize their tears are in vain,” Komer’s light remark finally pierced through the thin veil of secrecy.
Struck by sudden terror, the three representatives from Meine and Susoer exchanged anxious glances, their unease apparent. Glancing at the two unexpressive Myron representatives, Hozel from Meine City-State caught on and, no longer concerned about the many Galle nobles occasionally glancing their way, stepped up with a pale face behind Komer, saying with trepidation, “Lord, there are some things I would like to explain, ······”
“All right, whatever it is, we can talk about it after we return. This is still Duke Zellin’s mansion, and I think we should calmly wait for the end of this banquet before discussing further,” Komer said indifferently, waving his hand.
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Hozel, his face turning green as he was silenced by Komer’s words, exchanged fearful glances with the other two representatives who also caught on. But they dared not speak further, instead bowing their heads dispiritedly, closing their mouths, and pondering over how to explain everything to their lord after the banquet. The door to Galle had closed behind them, and now they had offended the prospective lord of the land. They did not know how they were going to survive in Caucasus henceforth, particularly since they bore the responsibility of many others.
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