Chapter 7: Launch Day
In a luxurious parlor deep within the noble district, the clinking of wine glasses echoed off the golden walls.
Several nobles lounged in velvet chairs, sipping vintage grapes and gossiping like bored royalty.
"Have you heard?" one asked, swirling his drink. "Halven Dros is investing in some… project."
"Oh?" another noble smirked. "What kind of project?"
"Some sort of book, I think. Rumors say he's funding a peasant to make it."
They all burst into laughter.
"A peasant? Writing? What is this, comedy?"
"What's next, farmers becoming playwrights? Maybe pigs will start giving lectures!"
"I heard it's not even a real book. Something with drawings."
"Drawings?" one scoffed. "What is he funding, a children's doodle?"
The laughter got louder.
Sitting at the end of the room was a noble with a sharp smile and colder eyes—Viscount Baleran.
He leaned forward, fingers tapping together.
"Lord Halven may be influential, but he's a fool for wasting money on stories and scribbles," he said. "It'll crash. Like every peasant dream does."
The room agreed.
But deep down… they all knew something felt different this time.
Because Halven Dros wasn't just some average noble.
He was the third-highest ranking noble in the entire region.
A man of wealth, military background, and terrifying influence.
If he believed in something… the world listened.
And lately, his manor had been buzzing with energy.
Servants delivering crates of paper. Messengers running nonstop.
And posters—yes, actual posters—circulating with strange black-and-white drawings and a title written in bold:
"Titanheart Chronicles"
The walls are only the beginning.
"Wall what? Titan what?" one noble scoffed. "Ridiculous name."
But the posters kept coming.
More and more every day.
Markets. Inns. Taverns. Even churches.
People whispered.
"What is this?"
"Is it true this story made nobles cry?"
"Is it real?"
And then—launch day arrived.
* * *
Inside the manor's private hall, rows and rows of stacked crates lined the walls.
Beautiful, polished, and sealed with a golden wax stamp bearing the noble crest.
Lord Halven stood beside me, arms crossed and proud as a lion.
"A total of 2,000 copies," he said. "Of Titanheart Chronicles, Chapter 1."
I stared at the crates, wide-eyed.
"…That many already?"
Each one was bound in a dark, elegant hardcover. The title stamped in silver foil. Pages crisp, ink rich, not a single smudge.
"Hardcover too?" I muttered, walking over to one and running my fingers along the edge.
"We used the best quality materials," Halven said. "Paper from the northern mills. Covers reinforced. These aren't some market stall pamphlets. They're luxury."
I smirked.
"Perfect. These are going straight to nobles first. One gold per copy."
Lord Halven raised an eyebrow. "One gold?"
"Exactly. Nobles are loaded. They won't even blink. If it's high class and exclusive, they'll eat it up just to feel important."
He chuckled. "Smart."
I turned back to the stack, still in awe.
This was real. My dream was real.
"Do we have the trade routes organized?"
"Yes," Halven said with a confident nod. "We're using merchant caravans from my estate. Distribution to nearby cities is already set. And… a few extra people have shown interest."
I paused.
"…Who?"
He smiled.
"The royal family."
I blinked. "The what?"
"The princess, specifically," he said. "Apparently she's always been interested in literature. She heard whispers about a story that moved even the stone-hearted. She asked to see a copy herself."
"…The princess… is going to read Titanheart Chronicles…"
[Achievement Unlocked: Royal Attention. Proceed with caution.]
"I—uh—okay, okay, that's… cool," I mumbled, suddenly sweating.
"She could be a powerful supporter," Halven added. "Or a dangerous critic."
"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."
We both turned back to the crates.
Perfectly printed.
Perfectly packed.
The beginning of everything.
"…It's time," Halven said, his voice low. "Let's release it to the public."
The doors opened.
Servants rushed in to begin loading the crates.
The carriages were waiting.
The streets were already whispering.
And Titanheart Chronicles—
The greatest piece of fiction ever created—
Was about to change the world.
* * *
Today was the day.
The day whispers had spoken of.
The day something new arrived in the world of stories.
Princess Serenia sat by the window of her tower chamber, a leather-bound book in her lap and another half-read on the table beside her.
She wasn't reading either.
Her thoughts were elsewhere. On the rumor.
A new book.
Not a historical record. Not a political journal.
Not another romantic tragedy between nobles with too many names.
But a story written by a peasant.
And more than that—a new form of literature.
"A book told through… images," she murmured, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear.
She had heard of it through her attendants.
Whispers in court. A high rankin nobel—Halven—investing in something strange.
An illustrated story that had made grown men cry.
She'd requested it immediately.
Not because she believed in the hype.
But because she'd read everything else.
Serenia loved stories.
Loved reading more than court politics, more than dances, more than any suitor who'd tried to charm her with empty poems.
But nothing impressed her anymore. Everything felt predictable. Empty. Dry.
She had torn apart every novel handed to her with sharp, clinical critiques.
Authors feared her.
Libraries hid their worst titles when she came near.
So today... was just another test.
Could this strange "picture story" prove her wrong?
A knock came at the door.
"Your Royal Highness," a maid said, peeking in. "The book has arrived."
Serenia stood immediately. "Bring it here."
The hardcover was placed in her hands.
Black cover. Silver letters.
"Titanheart Chronicles – Chapter 1"
The walls are only the beginning.
She turned it over, running her gloved fingers along the texture.
It felt premium. Expensive. One gold coin per chapter, they said.
More than most books. But to her, price was irrelevant.
Only the content mattered.
She opened it.
Page one.
The first panel.
And something inside her paused.
"…This art…" she whispered.
Her eyes widened—just slightly.
She turned the page.
Then another.
And another.