Chapter 510: The Spread of Knowledge

Inside the administrative heart of Cecil City—the Government Affairs Hall—Norris arrived at the office of the News and Propaganda Department, accompanied by several of his assistants.

Not long ago, this honest farmer, who had spent most of his life working the land and tending crops, could never have imagined standing in a room like this—spacious and bright, a place where important people worked, furnished with sturdy, elegant desks and chairs, bookshelves lined with volumes and files, and magical crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling. Even the manor houses of the estate owners in the past never had rooms like this. Yet here he was, truly standing in such a place.

And now, he was the head of the agricultural department—the very person responsible for managing farming affairs under the lord’s authority. In old terms, he was considered “upper class.”

Having changed into clean, respectable clothes and somewhat accustomed to dealing with other officials in the government hall, Norris let out a barely perceptible breath. Standing here no longer made him nervous, though just last year he would still stammer when meeting the knights of the territory.

His assistants stood quietly nearby—young men Norris had personally selected. They could read and write, and also understood farming. Finding people who met both criteria was rare, so Norris had been bringing them along whenever possible over the past six months, eager to help them grow quickly.

He knew he was getting old. Though by the standards of the gifted, he was still middle-aged, he was not one of them. His youth had been filled with hardship and hunger, and the ailments he carried couldn’t be cured simply by a couple of years of decent food, warm clothes, and a few bottles of alchemical potions. It wouldn’t be long before he had to leave this post.

But he felt no regret. These past few years had already given him a life he never dared dream of before. Still, he felt he owed his lord’s trust. While his energy lasted, he wanted to train these young farmers to stand on their own, to pass on the lessons he’d learned—the pitfalls he’d encountered, the mistakes he’d made—and to share the knowledge and experience he’d accumulated over half a lifetime.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, footsteps suddenly echoed outside the door. Moments later, it swung open, revealing Gawain Orlando—his beard streaked with gray, dressed in a scholar’s robe, exuding a calm and refined demeanor.

“Ah, Mr. Norris—my apologies for keeping you waiting. I’ve been quite busy lately,” Gawain said.

“Please, don’t mention it,” Norris quickly stepped forward. Though on this land their ranks were equal, his years of hardship had ingrained in him a habit of viewing scholars as superior. Even now, when they were peers, he still approached Gawain with a respectful deference. “We arrived a bit early—this is perfect timing.”

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” Gawain invited them all to sit before getting straight to the point. “Our lord and Lady Hetty have a new plan. It’s very important—truly, extremely important. That’s why I’ve gathered you here. This afternoon, I’ll also be meeting with Mr. Hammer and Miss Jenny. It will require cooperation from many people.”

Norris blinked in confusion. “Agriculture, metallurgy, and the Rune Research Institute?”

“Take a look at this first—you’ll understand soon enough,” Gawain said, opening a drawer and pulling out a thin booklet. “Mr. Norris, this looks like something you wrote?”

Norris took the booklet and saw the clear, simple title: Cultivation and Harvesting of Sweetroot and Legumes.

“Of course, I wrote it. The lord asked me to turn my farming experience into a booklet to teach other farmers, so I put this together myself,” Norris said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Sitting before a renowned scholar from the capital, a man with countless publications, talking about his own “book” felt like a test of confidence. “Is there… a problem with it?”

“Not at all. In fact, we need many more booklets like this,” Gawain said, his face lighting up with youthful enthusiasm. “Let us praise the printing press—and even more so, those honorable people who invented it. The great spread of knowledge has begun. By the lord’s order, we are to compile a series called Foundations of All Things, covering seven major categories: agricultural knowledge, magical industry, social knowledge, magical theory, natural science, theology, and geography and history. More may be added in the future. Mr. Norris, your booklet has been invaluable—many farmers in Cecil City have reaped bountiful harvests thanks to your teachings. But now, your work must go further—”

Norris listened intently to every word Gawain spoke, his body leaning forward slightly. The wrinkles etched by years of sun and wind on his face resembled the furrows of a field, telling the story of his life. Suddenly, a realization dawned on him—he understood what he must do.

There was indeed something he needed to pass on.

“Mr. Norris, I am skilled with words but know little of farming. For this part, I hope to rely on you and your apprentices,” Gawain said earnestly. In the past, he would never have thought to seek knowledge from a farmer. Now, he had no time to question the propriety of learning from one. His passion was ignited, and all he could think about was the “great spread of knowledge.” “We need your expertise.”

…

“We need your expertise…”

In the break room of the Magic Network Broadcasting Center, Jenny recalled Lady Hetty’s words from a few days ago. She took a deep breath, then lowered her head to continue reviewing the script and materials she had spent several nights compiling.

The mechanical scholars and magitech technicians were still busy in the adjacent room, making the break room unusually quiet—only the sound of rustling paper could be heard. Suddenly, Jenny felt a gentle tap on her arm.

Startled, she looked up to see Rebecca sitting beside her. The viscountess held a stack of papers in one hand and offered Jenny a few candies with the other. “Feeling nervous? Have some sugar!”

“Ah… thank you,” Jenny said, accepting the sweets and popping one into her mouth. She glanced curiously at the papers in Rebecca’s hand. “Are you going to… record a program too?”

“Yeah, I’m recording right after you,” Rebecca said, shaking the script. Then she pointed to a pile of machine models in the corner. “It’s about identifying and using several common magitech devices, plus a schematic of the original repulsion piston magic energy engine.”

Having studied runes together and co-edited the first edition of the Low-Level Spells—Rune Array Comparison Table, Jenny and Rebecca were close. The white-haired rune scholar, who usually kept to herself in the institute, didn’t hide her nervousness. “I… don’t know what to say when it’s my turn.”

“Then just record it again,” Rebecca waved her hand. “It’s not live today—if you mess up, you can try as many times as you want. But the first live broadcast is in three days, so you’ll have to be careful then.”

Jenny seemed to relax a little, then sighed. “I really admire Miss Gipley… I heard her first time was a live broadcast.”

“Honestly, just relax. It’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re just standing on stage demonstrating a few simple experiments—playing with runes to show how the basics work. What you teach your apprentices at the institute is way more complex—you manage just fine.”

“But it’s different,” Jenny smiled wryly. “If I’m teaching a few apprentices nearby, I’m not nervous at all. But just now, I saw the studio… standing alone on an empty stage, facing a bunch of magic network terminals and a room full of expressionless technicians—it made me a bit anxious. And knowing the footage will be recorded and broadcast over the magic network…”

She touched her cheek, the nervousness returning.

“There’s no way around that—it’s to make sure the experiment details are captured clearly. But you just reminded me—maybe next time you can bring one or two assistants on stage to help out. That might ease your nerves,” Rebecca’s face brightened as she chatted happily. But halfway through, her gaze fell on Jenny’s face.

The rune scholar from the capital, head of the Rune Research Institute and one of the founders of Cecil’s magitech industry, was awkwardly tucking strands of her long white hair behind her ear.

Jenny had carefully restyled her hair today. The silky strands fell from the side of her face down to her chest, nearly covering half her face.

Yet through the gaps in her hair, the prominent burn scars on her neck were still clearly visible.

Though she usually paid little mind to the scars and never tried to hide them at the institute, in this moment, the rune scholar clearly cared.

Noticing Rebecca’s gaze, Jenny grew even more self-conscious. She tucked her hair again and asked hesitantly, “Is it still visible like this?”

“Yes,” Rebecca nodded. “And no matter what, it will be.”

Jenny’s hand froze mid-movement, her expression falling into disappointment. “I actually tried Master Pittman’s scar-removal ointment, but it didn’t work at all…”

“Pittman’s ointments sold privately are almost always useless,” Rebecca said with a grimace, then looked at Jenny seriously. “And honestly, I don’t think you need to hide them. On the contrary, I think you should show them proudly. But that’s just my opinion.”

Jenny stared in surprise at her first friend who had crossed social boundaries to be so candid with her. “Why…”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Rebecca said simply. “Really—you are. Even with those scars, they’re not as bad as you think.”

Jenny hesitated. She was glad to hear the compliment but unsure if it truly applied to her. Before she could respond, a voice came from nearby.

“Are you ashamed of those scars?”

Startled, Jenny looked up to see a tall figure.

She quickly stood. “My lord…”

Gawain waved his hand, signaling her not to be so formal. “The one who should be ashamed of those scars is your mentor, not you. Of course, whether you choose to hide them or not is your own decision. But from where I stand, I don’t see those scars as ugly, nor do I think you should feel ashamed.”

The door to the studio opened, and a technician stepped out. “Miss Jenny—the equipment is ready. We can start anytime.”

Jenny clutched the papers in her hand, looking a little lost as she stood up.

Gawain looked at her quietly. “You’re here to share knowledge. You should be proud of what you know, because behind that knowledge stand the nameless wild mage and Mr. Ravencrest himself. Are you really going to introduce them with hesitation and shame instead of pride and confidence?”

Rebecca stood up too, gripping Jenny’s arm firmly, her face lighting up with a bright smile. “You’ve got this!”

Jenny glanced down at the few pages of her script, nearly torn from her nervous grip. After a few seconds of silence, she took a deep breath.

Then, she tied her hair back and stepped toward the door not far away.

Watching Jenny’s retreating figure, Gawain let out a soft sigh. “You have to take the first step sometime.”

“Yeah, I think it’s about time she stepped out—she’s clearly beautiful,” Rebecca muttered, then looked at Gawain with curiosity. “By the way, ancestor, what brings you here?”

“Heddy was worried about you,” Gawain said with a mix of helplessness and amusement. “Honestly, I’m a bit worried too—I’m afraid you might blow this place up.”

“Wow—”

(End of chapter)