Arthur woke at dawn as usual, the faint glow of the early morning sun barely visible beyond the frost-lined windows. The air was crisp, colder than previous mornings—a clear sign that winter was approaching.
Rising from his bed, he dressed quickly in warm yet flexible training attire and made his way to the training grounds. As he arrived at the training ground, a sharp breeze swept across the open field, making him shiver slightly.
As part of his usual routine, he stretched before setting off on a run, completing four to five laps around the field. Normally, he would repeat the process or push himself further, focusing on endurance, but today was different. Today, he had a different goal in mind. After finishing his laps, he slowed his pace and approached Klein.
“Klein, I want to start training in swordsmanship,” Arthur said, his breath still steady from the run.
Klein nodded before crossing his arms. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been waiting for this moment. You’ve spent the last four to five months building your stamina, which is important, but I was beginning to wonder when you’d finally pick up a blade.”
He then gestured toward a nearby weapons rack where various training swords were neatly arranged. “Go ahead and pick a weapon that feels right for you, Your Highness. Choose something you’re comfortable wielding.”
Arthur nodded and walked toward the stand, eyeing the selection of wooden training swords. As he ran his fingers along the hilts, he contemplated his choice.
I don’t need a weapon for heavy battlefield combat—just something suitable for self-defense, with a balance between speed and offense. A lightweight sword would be best.
He tested several wooden swords, swinging them lightly through the air. There were longswords, arming swords, and various other blades, but none of them felt quite right. Then, his eyes landed on a familiar shape.
Wait… is that a katana?
A rush of nostalgia filled him. Back on Earth, he had always admired katanas in anime and light novels, fascinated by their elegance and cutting precision. He had never had the chance to wield one before, but now…
Arthur picked up the wooden stick shaped into katana and gave it a few test swings. The curved blade moved swiftly through the air, its lightweight design allowing for smooth, fluid strikes. It felt natural in his hands.
Not bad. Maybe I’m biased, but this is what I want to use.
Turning back to Klein, he held up the wooden katana. “I’ll train with this. This is the sword style I want to pursue.”
Klein frowned slightly, scrutinizing the weapon. “That’s an unusual choice,” he said. “Katanas aren’t common on the battlefield. They’re designed more for dueling and one-on-one combat rather than large-scale warfare. That’s why very few knights choose that style.”
Arthur nodded. “I understand, but I like how it feels—light, fast, and easy to control. It suits me better than the heavier swords.”
Klein studied him for a moment before sighing and nodding. “Very well. If that’s your choice, I’ll inform the blacksmith to forge a proper katana for you. In the meantime, you’ll train with the wooden replica.”
Arthur smirked slightly, gripping the wooden blade. “Thank you.”
Klein crossed his arms and gave a small, approving nod. “It’s my pleasure. However, I’m not well-trained in that particular sword style. I can teach you the fundamentals of swordplay, but if you want to truly master it, I’ll introduce you to someone more experienced with that weapon tomorrow.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Someone who knows how to use a katana?”
Klein chuckled. “You’d be surprised. Not many use it, but those who do are deadly. For today, I’ll show you what I know and help you build a foundation.”
Arthur nodded, eager to begin.
Klein gestured toward the open training area. “First, we start with the basics—your stance.”
Arthur followed Klein to the center of the training ground, adjusting his grip on the wooden katana. The cold morning air made his breath visible as he steadied himself. Klein took a stance with his own training sword and motioned for Arthur to mimic his posture.
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Arthur practiced diligently, following Klein’s instructions. Each strike, each movement, had to be controlled—precise rather than forceful. The katana demanded finesse, speed, and efficiency. For over an hour, he repeated the motions, Klein occasionally correcting his stance or adjusting his grip.
By the time the lesson ended, Arthur’s muscles ached, but he felt a sense of accomplishment.
After training, Arthur did as he often did—chatting with the knights and mages. He made it a habit to bond with them, to earn their respect not just as their ruler but as a comrade-in-arms. Laughter mixed with the clashing of steel and the murmurs of spell practice as Arthur shared a few lighthearted moments with them.
Eventually, he left the training grounds to wash off the sweat and fatigue. The warm water was a welcome relief against the chill in the air. After freshening up, he headed for breakfast, eating just enough to refuel his body without slowing himself down for the rest of the day.
With his morning routine complete, Arthur set out to check on the kingdom’s affairs. His first stop was Ben’s office to oversee the progress on preparing the new tax system. He wanted to ensure the tax officers were being properly trained and that preparations were proceeding smoothly.
After finishing his discussion with Ben, Arthur made his way to the dining hall for lunch before heading to the library.
Inside the library, he reviewed the progress of the morning’s tasks, ensuring everything was proceeding as expected. Once he was done, he glanced at the time—it was only 4 PM.
That was quicker than expected, he mused. With no phones or distractions, I get through my work much faster.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly. If he had his laptop or phone, he could have spent the extra time enjoying some entertainment. But in this world, with neither available, he had to find other ways to occupy his mind.
Since I have time, I might as well think of a way to design a Linotype machine.
Although he had never used one himself, he recalled watching a documentary about its mechanics. The concept was still fresh in his memory. If he could sketch out a detailed blueprint, the construction process would be much smoother.
Let’s see… He began, The Linotype works by having an operator press a key, which releases the corresponding matrix from the magazine above the keyboard. Each matrix has tiny notches on its edges that guide it into the correct position within the line of text.
Once a full line of matrices is assembled, the machine automatically moves it to the casting section. Here, molten metal—typically a lead-based alloy—is poured into the mold created by the matrices, forming a solid line of type, or "slug."
After the metal cools and solidifies, the slug is ejected, ready for printing. Meanwhile, the used matrices are carried up by a distributor mechanism and sorted back into their proper channels within the magazine using their unique notches. This ensures that they can be reused for the next line of type.
The real challenge, Arthur mused, is replicating the precision of the sorting mechanism and ensuring the molten metal reaches the right temperature for a clean cast. I also need to design a reliable keyboard system to automate the process.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden desk as he thought. The characters on the matrices must be mirrored so that when ink is applied and pressed onto paper, they appear correctly. Thankfully, this world’s written language is similar to English alphabet, so that won’t be an issue.
Then another thought struck him. Should I make the Linotype machine entirely mechanical, or should I integrate electric motors to drive the mechanical parts? I already understood the fundamentals of harnessing electricity, and using motors could greatly improve efficiency. But introducing electric power at this stage would raise too many questions.
Even on Earth, the understanding of electricity was a slow and gradual process. The very concept of electrical current only emerged after centuries of accidental discoveries and relentless study. If I suddenly introduced a fully electric machine, it would seem far too advanced—suspicious, even.
No, a purely mechanical Linotype was the safer approach. I should just rely on gears, levers, and springs to automate the process. Once the kingdom advanced technologically, I could then consider introducing current, magnetic field, electron, etc. Only then I should start to introduce electric motors.
With that decision made, Arthur leaned over his desk and resumed sketching. He started with the keyboard mechanism, carefully outlining how pressing a key would release a matrix from the magazine above.
After a moment, he frowned. This won’t work. The alignment seemed off, and the release mechanism felt too unreliable. Frustrated, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside.
Undeterred, he grabbed a fresh sheet and began again, adjusting the angles, tweaking the key lever system—only to hit another dead end.
Damn it. He leaned back, exhaling sharply.
Over and over, he revised the design, only to find new flaws. The key spacing wasn’t right. The matrices might jam. The return mechanism was inconsistent. With each failure, he refined his approach, but nothing felt quite perfect.
He glanced at the clock. What the—? It’s already 7 PM?! His eyes widened in disbelief. It felt like mere minutes had passed, yet the entire evening had slipped away.
With a sigh, he set his quill down, rubbing his temples. I haven’t even finished designing a single mechanism yet. But I should stop for now. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll try again.
Gathering the scattered sketches, he neatly stacked the ones worth keeping and tossed the failed attempts into the trash bin. Arthur stood, stretching his stiff limbs and headed to his chamber.