Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 363 - 362: Cognitive Issues

Seeing what Heidi held, Gawain already guessed what it was, and he looked surprised: "So soon?"

"A royal scholar specializing in grammar heard about the leader’s plan to publish ’newspapers’ and responded proactively. Mr. Nicholas Egg also heard about it and directly helped make a metal plate, so the first issue could come out quickly," Heidi said with a smile, handing the sample issue to Gawain. "Of course, it’s just the sample that can be done this way. For mass production, we still need the traditional plate-making process, or wait for your new printing machine to be made."

Gawain nodded while taking the newspaper, feeling thousands of emotions in his heart.

After so much effort, he finally started to recreate some of the things familiar to him in this world—whether it’s chess or billiards, or the newspaper in front of him. Although it was indeed created for the development of the territory, it’s hard to say there wasn’t any personal bias. Seeing these familiar things from his previous life appear little by little in this world, the sense of achievement was no less than the day the first Magic-Powered Engine was made operational.

In this world with bizarre physical rules, how many more things could he recreate that could remind him of his home planet?

The smell of ink, faintly grassy, concocted from local formulas, wafted into his nostrils. He gently rubbed the paper in his hands: the texture was slightly rough, and the thickness was very thin. This was the cheap paper known as "Gray Pulp Paper," a product of Anzu’s mature papermaking technology. It was much cheaper than the Whiteshade Paper used for formal correspondence by the aristocrats, made from hemp, snake vine, or the bark of giantwood. Typically, scholars and mages would give this cheap paper to apprentices for use.

After the industrialization of the territory began developing day by day, Gawain replaced traditional manual processes with more efficient industrial cutting machines, crushers, and mixers, drastically reducing the cost of this already cheap paper. Its quality also improved, making it the commonly used paper in the territory. And because of its strong ink solidification effect in relief printing, it became the best carrier for the first issue of Cecil Weekly.

At the newspaper’s header, large decorative letters printed the words "Cecil Weekly" in large characters, and beside it, in smaller fonts, the date and the publisher’s name were written—a special request from Gawain.

Subsequently, the main text of the newspaper began with a large section praising the southern mountains and the waves of the White River, followed by poetic praises of the clouds and winds, then an analysis of wine and an overview of heraldry... Gawain read it in one breath to the end, where he saw a trivial life tip: how to season a steak with wine.

He silently set the newspaper down, his serious expression startling Heidi. She cautiously asked, "Ancestor... is there anything wrong?"

"Have you read it?" Gawain lifted his eyelids and looked into Heidi’s eyes as he asked.

"...I’ve read it," Heidi nodded slightly. "The content is very well-researched, with no errors in knowledge or grammar."

Gawain let out an almost imperceptible sigh, genuinely wanting to say "it’s nonsensical," but considering his image in front of his granddaughter, he forcibly held back the words and instead shook his head slightly: "It’s completely useless, utterly not meeting my requirements."

"Ah?" Heidi was taken aback by such an evaluation, her face showing surprise, "Why..."

"The newspaper is for the common people, at least the ’Cecil Weekly’ that I launched is for the common people," Gawain interrupted before Heidi could finish, "Its value lies in whether the common people need it, can understand it, and are willing to read it—praising mountains and waves, lamenting clouds and winds, and teaching people how to season steak with wine? How many of the sixty or seventy thousand people in Cecil Main City, plus the Kant Region, do you think can understand this when printed?"

Heidi was taken aback, and then immediately realized the issue: "...I seem to understand."

"Researching ’elegant culture’ is not without value. In the future, when our people have enough leisure and knowledge to appreciate landscapes and streams, have enough food to study wine and steak, these things will naturally have value, but at this stage in a newspaper distributed across the territory, we don’t need this stuff," Gawain tossed the sample issue onto the table. "I listed the main sections needed for newspapers in the proposal, including life tips, news inside and outside the territory, etc., but now it seems that just listing those sections isn’t enough. I also need to clarify the content requirements for each section... Go find the person editing the newspaper, and I’ll talk to him directly."

Heidi immediately accepted the order: "Alright."

Not long after, Heidi brought back a man with graying hair, dressed in a scholar’s gray robe.

Gawain raised his eyes, scrutinizing the royal scholar who had volunteered to edit the newspaper. In the man, who looked to be about fifty, he saw a mix of tension and awe, but more distinctly, the unique confidence of a scholar within his area of expertise. The old gentleman donned the grey robe, ornate with complex laces, favored by scholars of this era. His greying hair was neatly combed back, and although he seemed slightly stooped—likely from years at the desk—he was still quite tall, a full head taller than Aunt Heidi.

"My respects to you, Sir Byron," the old man bowed before Gawain, "Your heroic deeds echo throughout kingdoms."

"No need for pleasantries, Mr. Godwin Orlando," Gawain knew the name from the editorial signature on the newspaper before him. He spoke directly, "Do you know why I summoned you here?"

"Lady Heidi mentioned that the ’newspaper’ I edited did not meet your expectations," Godwin replied, trying to maintain calm despite his obvious tension, "It’s not grammatical errors, but rather content that doesn’t align."

"I require a publication that the commonfolk can read," Gawain pointed to the sample on the table, "Here, I need straightforward information on the price changes of wheat and various vegetables, not an ode to the historical changes of the White River. Here, I require news of the new district’s expansion, not discussions on how many heraldic variants the southern aristocrats have. And here—people aren’t interested in how to flavor steak with an entire bottle of red wine; they care more about how to bake pancakes, harvest wheat, and filter the sediments from beer. Of course, it’s not that what you’ve written lacks value; these things are useful in many fields. But they are unnecessary for this newspaper, for the time being."

As Gawain listed the essentials for a genuinely popular newspaper, Godwin’s expression grew increasingly complex, and finally, he had a chance to voice his concerns, almost unable to control his tone: "Sir Byron, if I follow your requirements, would these words maintain any elegance at all? These printed words would lose the nobility of knowledge! Are you asking me to use this paper and words, with quills and ink, to write about how farmers pull sweetwood roots from the ground?"

"If it’s autumn now, then yes, that is what you should write about," Gawain leaned back into his chair, "And let me remind you, Mr. Godwin, sweetwood roots cannot be simply pulled from the ground—they have to be dug up with a spade, otherwise they’ll break off entirely in the soil."

The scholar from the royal capital reddened slightly in the face, hesitated for a moment, then spread his hands: "Frankly speaking, Sir Byron, if that’s what you require, you should find a farmer to write it, or a general laborer..."

"That would truly result in grammatical errors then," Gawain replied mildly, "Mr. Godwin, it seems you are not suited for this task—you may leave."

The royal scholar named Godwin’s face twitched slightly, and he shifted his footsteps a little, hesitating for several seconds in that posture before finally bowing deeply before Gawain, speaking in a complex and heavy tone, "I’m sorry to have disappointed you, it was not my intention."

After Godwin Orlando left the study, Amber’s silhouette gradually materialized in the air behind Gawain.

Gawain did not turn around, instead he spoke lightly, "The information on this scholar."

"A member of the royal capital’s ’Grammar Research Association’ and ’Historical Recorder Association’, with considerable accomplishments in the fields of literature, history, and heraldry. He is one of the more renowned scholars from this batch from the capital. He has abandoned his prospects at the two academic associations and a well-paying consultancy to come to the southern borders, all because of his immense curiosity about the Cecil territory and you personally—I mentioned before, he studies history."

Gawain mused, "...studying my history, perhaps?"

"You could say that," Amber smirked, "To him, everything happening on this land is a ’reenactment of history’; at least that’s probably how he sees it. He’s like a fish in water here, finally getting what he wished for, except he stumbled on the newspaper."

A thought occurred to Gawain; if this historian truly attempts to study the current development of the Cecil territory and the actions of "Gawain Cecil" post-resurrection for historical references, his historical research might indeed be flawed...

He then shook his head, casting out the unwarranted associations, and sighed softly, "People like him are useful. It wasn’t easy for him to come to the southern borders."

"Among this batch of scholars from the capital, his situation is not uncommon," Amber nodded, continuing, "Although they have joined various departments and largely adapted well, in another sense, they are quite at odds with the ’new order’ of this land. Scholars are a very particular group—they’re different from craftsmen or mechanists. They possess knowledge, a mature and stable logic, and they are often quite proud. Most scholars also know something about the transcendent fields or are themselves low-level transcendents, which is part and parcel of their pride."

"But these bearers of knowledge must become an asset to Cecil," Gawain said lightly.