Fantasy Writers 1860

Because most of the small, low-brow newspapers that usually love to label others couldn't survive and went bankrupt, a few of them fled to the Republic of the Iris across the strait for refuge.

Normally, it's the newspaper and magazine workers from Iris who come to Britannia for refuge, or political prisoners and exiled nobles, but now it's the other way around.

This whirlwind, which no one understood, naturally reached the Lentinion Weekly as well.

However, unlike Clancy's tense preparations, the young police officer who came to inspect this time was very friendly. He glanced around the editorial department and printing workshop, asked some trivial questions, and then left.

Clancy was completely baffled until the officer's parting words made it all clear:

"My mentor, Inspector Leeds, said he really enjoyed reading your serialized 'The Million Pound Note' and asked me to ask you if you could update it a little more each time."

Clancy wiped the sweat from his brow. "We're glad the Inspector likes it."

Despite being very unwilling, she still said, "I'll make the arrangements. There will be more content in the later episodes. The story is already nearing its end, so there's no need to drag it out..."

He was already unhappy that Dorian had ended "The Million Pound Note" so quickly.

In his view, while the novel is still very popular, they shouldn't be trying to pad it out to keep it serialized and keep making money. Now that it's finished, can they write a new book that achieve the same level of quality and sales?

Maybe not.

In his view, the wise choice would be to follow the example of Iris author Dumas's "The Earl of Eveburg," to write a million words of fluff while the book is already a hit, and then publish a standalone book later to continue making money.

He originally planned to cut parts of each episode and move them to the next episode near the end to increase the number of episodes.

Now, after being hinted at by the police officer, they have no choice but to abandon their plan.

"Speaking of which, Mr. Richie, where's Inspector Reid? I haven't seen him."

"Oh, my mentor hasn't been feeling well lately, so the inspector gave him a few days off to go home and rest." The young officer named Dalton Richie said absentmindedly.

She just caused a scene in court, and now she's feeling unwell?

No one would believe that.

"I see. Please also ask me to tell the detective that your health is important and you should get some rest," Clancy replied with a polite smile.

If the Lentinion Weekly is considered exceptionally lucky, then there are naturally also exceptionally unlucky ones.

For example, The Chronicle and the Morning Star.

……

"Since the promulgation of several new regulations on further standardizing the publishing industry, a number of small newspapers, such as the Chronicle and the Morning Star, which did not actually possess the qualifications and capabilities for news gathering and editing, have been naturally eliminated. This has effectively standardized the management of books and newspapers in the country, purified the atmosphere of the publishing industry, and consolidated the prosperity and order of the empire..."

Home Secretary Calvin Harper was reading a briefing in his Whitehall residence. Countless opportunities and sacrifices were condensed into just a couple hundred words.

"...In conclusion, the promulgation of this new regulation has been very effective and has basically achieved its intended purpose. However, it may face attacks from the opposition party, so we must prepare countermeasures in advance..." Calvin read out the conclusion of the last paragraph.

On the small sofa opposite him sat an equally well-dressed gentleman, holding an oriental-style teacup and carefully savoring his tea.

The gentleman only took a few sips before reluctantly putting down his teacup.

"If you really like Shunguo's tea, I'll have officials from the East Asian colonies bring some to you. If you, a dignified Minister of the Interior, are not even drinking tea properly, people will really think that our empire is so weak that even the Minister of the Interior can't drink proper good tea."

"Of course I know this tea is fake, but I just like the taste." Calvin put down the briefing he was holding. "The opposition's attacks..."

"You're not concerned about that, are you? It won't be long before there's no opposition party left..."

"That's true, Emerson. I almost forgot. Sometimes we forget our true identities and missions, getting caught up in worldly roles of power..." He looked at Byron Emerson, the Secretary of State for Colonies and Overseas Territories, sitting on the small sofa opposite him.

"The Grand Master said the plan might have to be brought forward, and now more and more people are starting to focus their attention on us. Not long ago, during a magistrate's court hearing, a lowly detective actually rushed out and claimed he would release dirt on the cult," Byron said in a deep voice.

"Fortunately, our people reacted quickly and immediately kicked him out on contempt of court. In the end, Director Soren handled it and suspended the junior detective... Although the impact is not significant at present, it serves as a warning to us. Some things are starting to become undeniable."

Calvin picked up the briefing on the table again. "That's why I need to clean up the media, suppress it as long as I can. Besides, it won't be long. Once Bowman's new parliamentary building is completed, everything will be settled..."

At this point, Calvin's face gleamed with an unusually fervent light. "These little people really think they can change anything? Ridiculous. The new world order will arrive as early as the end of this month."

Seeing Calvin's fervent confidence, Byron seemed to relax a bit, chuckling softly as he recited in a low voice: "For the flawless dawn of mankind, the Almighty Lord will burn away all decay..."

"For the flawless dawn of mankind, the Almighty Lord will burn away all decay..." Calvin echoed in a low voice.

……

Iris Republic, Villecotre, Aisne Province.

It's a small town with only a few hundred people. Like all Iris Country towns, it has a clear blue sky, vast farmlands, and simple, honest people.

Men worked in the fields or workshops, women wove cloth and took care of children at home, and children played in the fields. They worked at sunrise and rested at sunset, just like they had for the past few hundred years.

The only difference is that a great writer has emerged from this small town in the last two years.

This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The villagers generally know what writers do, but they don't quite understand exactly what writers do.

However, this is not a big deal.

"Mom, look over there, it's so bright!" A child pulled his mother, who was cooking in the kitchen, to the doorway.

At the edge of the field of vision, a dazzling rainbow-colored light could indeed be seen rising, which was exceptionally clear even in daylight, and even more dazzling than the midday sun.

"Mommy, what is that?" the child asked.

She thought for a moment; the location looked quite far, probably on the edge of the village, over there…

"Silly child, that's Sister Dumas's house. Study hard and read your books. When you grow up to be as smart as her and become a writer, you'll know what that is." She smiled and stroked the child's head.

Our small town has produced a great writer, so it wouldn't be surprising if something else happened, right?

Meanwhile, at the source of that rainbow glow—Dumas's house—two people wearing silver-gray hoods, their faces indistinguishable, disregarded etiquette, smashed the window and barged in, surrounding the girl who had already fallen to the ground.

"Miss Dumas! Miss Dumas! Wake up! Wake up!" The two men anxiously carried the girl to the bed in the bedroom, trying their best to wake her up.

Finally, the girl named Dumas woke up.

"A fantasy book! I've written a fantasy book! I've written a fantasy book! 'The Earl of Eveburg'! I'm the first... cough cough cough... in the last 100 years..."

The first thing the girl said after waking up was an excited shout, but her weak body prevented her from maintaining her high-spirited state to finish her sentence.

"You need to rest now. Creating a phantom book consumes the creator's soul power. Our Ancient Shrine has passed down experience and methods that can minimize the damage you suffer," said a hooded figure whose voice sounded like a woman's.

"Ah, yes, yes, rest, rest... I really need to rest. I haven't slept for three days in a row in order to finish writing the final ending."

"To be honest, I can feel these past few days that I am creating a great work. I can feel that it will definitely become a fantasy book, and I will definitely become the first person in the last 100 years to create it..." Dumas forced a bright smile onto her tired face.

"I regret to inform you that you are not number one," another hooded figure said calmly, his voice sounding like a man's.

"Around the beginning of this month, we observed the rainbow light that appeared in the Britannian Empire across the strait, just like the one you just saw here."

"Huh?"

Dumas's smile froze.

Not long ago, she left the bustling capital of Rutescia and returned to her hometown to focus on writing. She aimed to finish "The Count of Eve" and then have it serialized in "The Debate" so she could enjoy herself for a while.

Instead of spending my days in fear at salons and banquets, anxiously traveling and watching plays, thinking about writing while eating, and then having no thought of it at all when I actually sit down to write.

It's time to end these days where I can't play well or write well.

A few days ago, she had a vague feeling that her work would become a fantasy book, so she wrote it day and night, and didn't even read the newspapers delivered by the postman, stuffing the mailbox outside the door to the brim.

"Britania...who is that? Dickins? Emily? Or Sacré?" She began to recall the Britannian writers she knew, then shook her head at each one.

She felt that none of her colleagues were that capable.

"Neither. It's a previously unknown young writer. We're still waiting for the Literature and Art Publishing House to share more information," the hooded woman explained. "But don't be sad. At least you're the first writer in our Iris Republic in nearly 100 years to create a first fantasy book."

As the saying goes, anyone can be number one as long as there are enough modifiers.

The other hooded man nodded and took out a silver badge from his pocket: "According to the rules of the Pantheon Secret Society, the creator of the Phantom Book will be automatically accepted as our member and enjoy the resources and protection provided by the Secret Society."

"So, I've been promoted?" Dumas took the badge. The silver badge was surrounded by wings and laurel branches, with the frontal image of the Lutesia Pantheon in the center, but it was upside down with the roof facing down.

At the base of the Pantheon, usually placed upright, is another tower-shaped black silhouette, surrounded by the Latin words "Pantheon Meeting".

"Yes, congratulations, Miss Dumas. My colleagues will be here to help you recover your physical and mental health as quickly as possible. With this badge, you can seek help at all our locations," the hooded man said.

"Hey, you guys, are you leaving?" Dumas unconsciously tightened her grip on the blanket in her hands. "To be honest, I quite like you guys, and you've taken good care of me during this time..."

"There are other missions at the secret meeting, I'm sorry... We'll meet again in the future. When you return to Lutesia, you can go to the underground of the Shrine of the Sages. After you take out this badge, someone will guide you into our headquarters..." The hooded woman's voice was no longer indifferent, but rather had a hint of reluctance.

"What mission... Oh, sorry, if it's inconvenient to say, just pretend you didn't hear me." Dumas realized she had spoken too quickly.

Her hood seemed to tremble slightly, as if she were chuckling to herself. "There's nothing I can't say. I've mentioned it to you before. A bibliophile in Lugdrum died and lost many magical books. They're currently conducting a joint investigation with the Academy of Literature, and it seems they've made progress. We need to go back and oversee the matter."

Knowing that the two were about to leave, Dumas was also a little reluctant and cherished these last moments.

She recalled the first time she met them a few months ago; the shock and excitement she felt when they first told her about the Phantom Book; and the care they had given her over the past few months…

"Oh, right, I just remembered something very important... What will I eat after you leave?"

...and the delicious food they make.

This is what Dumas remembers most vividly.

"What do you want to eat? Just eat whatever you normally eat." The hooded man was a little confused as to why she suddenly brought this up.

Dumas stared wide-eyed at the two people standing in front of her bed: "I usually eat the food you cook, and I've never tasted anything so delicious before... You've spoiled me so much that everything else tastes bland to me, and now you're leaving... What am I supposed to do?"

After much persuasion, the two hooded figures, seeing that Dumas was indeed weak and inconvenient, and that it was no easy feat for her to create the Phantom Book after expending part of her soul, had no choice but to go to the kitchen to cook and even bring in the newspapers that had piled up in her mailbox.

"Let me see what's been happening lately..." The girl sat up on the bed and began looking at the pile of newspapers beside her.

"A million gold pounds? The latest famous novel from Londinion? It's already reached Lutesia?"

"Why is there only a plot summary? Has no one on Iris's platform shared it?"

What does it mean to commit a crime by imitating a plot from a novel?

When novels expose the dark side of reality, do we choose to pay the price for good intentions?

As Dumas looked at these bizarre news reports from the other side of the strait, her fingertips lightly brushing the printed words on the newspaper, the slight disappointment she had felt earlier quickly dissipated.

Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away in Lentinion, in the province of Aiña, the same iridescent glow also appeared.