A moment later.
"That's more than enough. I won't bother you any longer, brother—I'll be leaving now."
Luke stood up from his chair, looking extremely satisfied.
This visit to Jarvan IV had been very fruitful.
He'd gotten a lot of stories he'd never heard before.
Jarvan IV stood as well, beaming as he saw him off. "Not staying for lunch? I'll put together something hearty for you."
Given his current living situation, Luke really couldn't imagine how "hearty" it could possibly be.
And he had no intention of lingering, so he shook his head. "No need. I should head back and prepare the draft."
"Then I won't keep you," Jarvan IV said. "Take your time on the way."
"Mhm."
Luke opened the door and was about to step out when Jarvan IV's voice sounded again behind him.
"Hey—little brother, hold up!"
Luke turned back, questioning with his eyes.
Jarvan IV cleared his throat. "Ahem. Make sure you don't say I told you any of this."
He shot Luke a meaningful look.
Luke understood immediately. "Don't worry, brother. Leave it to me."
So what—just blur the identity a bit? Easy.
Hearing Luke's promise, Jarvan IV finally relaxed. He waved again. "Take your time on the way."
"Mhm."
Click.
Once the door shut, Jarvan IV began strolling around the room, in an excellent mood.
"This bookshelf could use more books."
"Would a potted plant look better over here?"
"There should be a rug by the entrance. That'd make the place look more dignified."
"The training equipment out on the drill ground is a bit too limited. We should add more."
Standing on the balcony with his hands behind his back, Jarvan IV gazed out the window, smiling as he sketched a wonderful future in his mind.
As for any so-called brother-in-arms loyalty…
He'd forgotten it completely.
Garen? Who's that? Not familiar.
Outside, turn right.
After only a few steps, Luke spotted Lux at the corner, leaning against the wall and idly kicking a small pebble.
"Let's go."
"What did you two whisper about? Tell me," Lux said, catching up, curiosity burning.
Luke glanced at her. "You'll know tomorrow."
Lux frowned. "Then why can't you tell me today?"
Luke gave her a subtle, loaded smile—but said nothing, continuing forward.
"Always being mysterious!"
Lux puffed her cheeks at his back, annoyed.
Her curiosity was completely hooked now.
And thinking about how she had to go back to the academy tomorrow—and probably wouldn't see anything until midday—she sighed.
After leaving Jarvan IV's fortress, Luke and Lux got into the carriage and returned home.
By the time they arrived, it was already around noon.
Sona and Fiora were locked in a back-and-forth game of Five-in-a-Row, too focused to greet the two of them.
As Luke walked past, he glanced at the board and snorted.
Just two rookies flailing at each other.
The moment the sound left his mouth, Fiora's hostile gaze snapped over.
"What a beautiful day," Luke said, looking up at the sky as if he'd said nothing at all, and casually walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch.
At the table—
"Sigh…"
Lady Crownguard kept sighing, wearing a gloomy, miserable expression, like her whole mood had dropped off a cliff.
Fiora looked at Luke, puzzled. "What's wrong with her?"
Luke glanced over, amused. "Ignore her. It's the 'back-to-school crash.'"
"Oh."
Fiora nodded and continued eating.
Lux, thinking about having to return to classes tomorrow, felt her appetite vanish on the spot.
A meal where she normally could've eaten enough rice for three people—today she only managed enough for two.
Her appetite had taken a serious hit.
Luke had no such problem, because he still had one more day off tomorrow.
That was the benefit of having one extra day's worth of credits.
Thinking about how Lady Crownguard would be going back to prison tomorrow, he was in a pretty good mood.
After lunch, Luke went straight to his room.
He started drafting the first issue for tomorrow. Since it was the launch issue, he was writing the draft personally.
Later on, other people would handle it.
He'd also already established a newspaper office in the capital—the name was Royal City Bulletin—and everything was basically ready.
Once the draft was done, Luke got up again and went downstairs.
In the yard, the person playing Five-in-a-Row with Sona had switched to Lux.
Recently, there were more fun activities to pass the time, but the girls never stopped playing this game.
After a few painful lessons, though, they rarely challenged Luke anymore.
"I'm heading out for a bit," Luke said to the two of them, walking toward the gate.
"Okay, bye-bye," Lux said without even looking up, fully focused on the board.
Luke got into the carriage and headed for the workshop.
In the afternoon, he arrived and handed the draft to Navis.
"That's a lot of content," Navis said, taking it. Her eyes moved across the pages as she read.
This draft had far more than the earlier trial version. The sections were clearly much larger now.
Luke lounged in a massage chair nearby. "This is already a reduced version. Going forward, the layout will basically follow this model."
His newspaper office had recruited plenty of staff, and its information channels were now tied into official sources.
The reporting naturally couldn't stay at the earlier small-scale, neighborhood level.
That kind of thing only stayed novel for a moment.
Expanding content and adding more sections was necessary.
"Got it," Navis said, nodding as she read.
After resting in the massage chair for a while, Luke wandered around the workshop.
The bicycles were still in mass production. He'd already sunk a lot of money into it, and right now it was still a bottomless pit.
He'd have to wait a few more days before bicycles could start turning a profit.
And the printing presses were another huge expense.
In a little over a week, they'd built six improved presses.
In testing, each press could print eighty newspapers per minute without any problem. Six presses running together meant 28,800 papers per hour.
The true money-burners were the paper and the ink.
Given the capital's population, the presses were expected to run about four hours a day.
At a price of only two copper coins per paper, Luke's profit margin was razor-thin.
But the upside was obvious: he had zero competitors. He had the entire market to himself.
And the customer base was massive.
Now everything was ready—just waiting for tomorrow.
July 2. Weather: clear.
At 6:30 in the morning, before the sky had fully brightened, bicycles began flowing through the capital's streets.
Like ants swarming out of a nest, they departed from three major cathedrals in different directions, quickly spreading through every road and alley.
Following assigned addresses, they carried out their work with orderly efficiency.
When the day finally broke, early-rising residents opened their doors to find a newspaper delivered right to their doorstep.
Half an hour later, the newspaper office opened—and the nearby roads were jammed solid with eager crowds.
"One copy of Royal City Bulletin!"
"Me too! Me too!"
"Line up! Everyone line up properly!"
"If I'd known it would be this packed, I would've paid to pre-order yesterday!"
"I saw a ton of people riding these two-wheeled things this morning. They were fast—gone in a blink!"
"Yeah, I saw that too. What are those two-wheel things?"
"I heard they're called bicycles. A few days ago I saw a bunch of people practicing near the Illuminators' chapel."
"That's amazing. I want one too. It'd make going anywhere so much easier."
"Exactly!"
Even while waiting in line, people kept talking.
Early that morning, two things had already exploded across the capital. Everywhere you went, you heard people discussing them.
First: the launch issue of Royal City Bulletin—its quality was shockingly good.
When people focused on the content and saw the featured figure was Garen Crownguard, and the main piece covered his growth and background…
Whether they already knew him or not, everyone read with interest.
Beyond that, there were plenty of other pieces people could talk about—at the same time, discussion about the second prince, Luke, also started spreading.
The story about the little girl who sold newspapers caused an enormous reaction the moment it was published.
It didn't use many words, but it was so painfully plain and sincere that after you finished reading, it felt like a needle had been shoved straight into your heart.
That little girl had it way too rough!
And that was a story written by the second prince?
Absolutely infuriating.
If it's already a story, why couldn't he give it a better ending?
Topics like that popped up nonstop. And whether people liked it or not, the story really did make you think.
And when people saw kids in the street, each carrying a stack of newspapers and shouting as they walked—
"Paper! Paper for sale! Anyone want a copy?"
A lot of people who had already bought one silently walked up and bought another.
Just like that, Luke's marketing had worked perfectly.
Second: the bicycles racing around the city that morning.
In many parts of the capital, fast riding on horseback was forbidden. Even carriages had to keep their speed under control, so inside the city those vehicles weren't always convenient.
But the bicycles people saw this morning showed them a new way to get around.
A bicycle took up little space—less than half the footprint of a horse, not even a quarter of a carriage—but when you rode it, it wasn't slow at all.
After seeing them with their own eyes, many people immediately wanted one of these convenient, effortless vehicles.
And they soon learned from the paper that bicycles would go on sale before long—and the price wasn't as outrageous as they'd expected.
Only one gold coin, and you could own a bicycle permanently.
Time ticked by.
Soon it was almost noon, and the newspaper frenzy still hadn't cooled in the slightest.
"I heard things aren't calm over in Coastport. What's going on?"
"Not sure. I heard a group of pirates showed up, and they're pretty well equipped. The locals couldn't handle them. But the commander already sent the Fourth Shield Battalion over. It should get resolved."
After finishing a morning of Dauntless Vanguard training, Garen rode a plated warhorse at a slow pace through the streets, chatting with his squad.
But as they talked, he started noticing something.
Way more people were looking at him today.
Soon, he heard the whispers.
"Look—doesn't that look like Garen?"
"It is! I've seen him once before!"
"That's Garen Crownguard? The man who led a squad to defeat the Centennial Witherworm?"
"That's right—the youngest hardcase in the Dauntless Vanguard!"
"Oh, you mean the Garen who wet the bed and blamed it on his sister?"
Hearing that last line, Garen's body tilted hard in the saddle—he nearly fell off his horse.
Everything before that sounded normal. How did the tone suddenly derail into that?
For a moment, he honestly wondered if he'd misheard.
But then a squadmate beside him chuckled. "Didn't think you'd done something like that, Captain."
A female squadmate laughed too. "Captain looks so upright in public, but behind the scenes you're that devious?"
Garen's gaze slowly turned dangerous as his squad started discussing it.
He looked at them one by one.
They shut up instantly.
And though Garen's face stayed calm and composed, inside he was absolutely losing his mind.
What the hell is happening?!
Just then, a paper boy holding a stack of newspapers came from the other direction, shouting with all his strength.
"Paper for sale! Secrets about Garen Crownguard you've never heard!"
"Royal City Bulletin takes you inside the rising star's unknown side!"
"Two copper, two copper! Only two copper!"
The paper boy's shouting rang through the street.
Garen's face darkened. He swung down from his horse and blocked the kid.
Without another word, he tossed a gold coin, snatched the entire stack of newspapers from the boy's arms, and immediately looked down.
At the very top, in a prominent spot, was a piece about His Majesty.
July 2: King Jarvan III of Demacia issues important remarks regarding national development and construction.
Jarvan III pointed out that the nation remains in a critical period of growth. At this stage, all departments should fulfill their duties while also maintaining awareness of the bigger picture and enforcing discipline upon themselves.
He then delivered personal remarks, stating that since the nation endured major conflicts in the past, external unrest has fully stabilized over the last few years, and the domestic situation is currently favorable.
He also emphasized that for the sake of national construction, the people should unite as one—of one heart and one mind.
Regarding Royal City Bulletin, Jarvan III offered his personal view: We should treat Royal City Bulletin as a signal that we are entering a new era. It will be a driving force that pushes the nation forward.
Finally, Jarvan III added: To realize a grand vision, we must continue to strive.
After reading every line, Garen's gaze shifted lower.
And soon, he saw his own name.
Garen Crownguard, age twenty-two, currently serving as captain of the Second Shield Formation of the Dauntless Vanguard.
After the basic introduction, it went into his growth and experiences.
It even covered hardships he'd faced—like the time, two years after joining the Dauntless Vanguard, when he and his squad were trapped in a valley.
A powerful magical beast had awakened there: the Centennial Witherworm.
A large portion of the article described how he led his squad to defeat it, packed with detailed scenes.
In the story, he was wise, brave, resolute, and strong.
Even Garen, reading it, remembered that life-or-death ordeal and felt a surge of emotion.
So far, the tone was still normal.
But as he read further down—
The tone went completely off the rails.
It said:
According to an anonymous prince: Garen? That guy looks honest and straightforward on the surface, but inside he's sharp as a knife.
I still remember one day when he came to me, smug as can be, and told me he'd blamed Lux for wetting the bed.
He was eight years old at the time, right? Eight years old and still wetting the bed. Hah.
Hah my ass!
Garen roared inside his head, and before he realized it, he'd torn the newspaper clean in half.
His mouth twitched violently. His hands trembled as he gripped the paper.
And his eyes went so cold they looked almost empty of emotion.
Just reading the words, he could picture the prince's expression while saying them.
The noise around him slowly dragged him back to reality.
He looked around and felt like countless pairs of eyes were locked onto him.
For the first time in his life, Garen truly understood what public humiliation felt like.
That battle-tested heart that had survived countless brushes with death was now shaking like it had been stabbed.
And when he saw that nearly every person on the street was holding a newspaper…
Despair flashed in his eyes.
If nothing unexpected happened, then everyone in the capital now knew he'd still wet the bed at eight.
Wetting the bed would've been bad enough.
But he'd blamed it on his sister too.
In that moment, Garen finally realized something.
So-called reputation…
He actually cared about it.
"Look, Captain," a squadmate said, seeing Garen stand there in a daze for several minutes. He walked up and patted Garen's shoulder in comfort. "Everyone's got things they don't want to remember. Let it go."
"Let it go my ass," Garen snapped.
He turned and saw the guy trying to hold back laughter.
Even with his excellent discipline, Garen still cursed.
Then, without thinking, he took a few quick steps, vaulted onto his horse, and shouted, "Hyah!"
He tore off at full speed toward Jarvan IV's fortress.
Behind him—
"Hahahahaha!"
His squad burst into shameless laughter.
Garen's mental state detonated.
At the same time—
Jarvan IV's fortress.
"What the hell?!"
Jarvan IV, leisurely sipping a hot tea he'd just bought, saw the newspaper content and instantly sprang up like a kicked spring.
"According to an anonymous prince…"
"You've got to be kidding. How many princes does Demacia even have?!"
"Little brother!!"
His mind was equally not calm anymore.
A creepy chill crawled up his spine.
Jarvan IV didn't waste a single second—he immediately began packing up his office and fled his fortress at top speed.
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