And besides… I wanted to test something.
Socially speaking, the diet of nobles and common folk was very different. For one, peasant meals consisted mostly of bread, fish, beef, and chicken—the three main meats. Now and then they used oranges, lemons, and apples as snacks or juice, but they weren’t exactly good with vegetables due to the high cost.
Nobles, on the other hand, had far more variety. With their buying power they could afford fresh vegetables and fruits. There were even rare fruits I’d never seen in my previous life—like cetroika and lamonado. The first looked like a raisin, but tasted sweet; the second resembled a blue watermelon with no seeds inside.
As for meat, nobles preferred venison—an animal only they could hunt—wild boar, and of course soft bread made with high-quality ingredients.
It also caught my attention that pork was rarely eaten.
All because of the mistaken belief that pigs were dirty animals. A huge mistake.
“Your Highness, what do you need to know?” Gonzalo asked.
We had agreed to end class early so we could discuss an idea I’d been carrying around since last year.
“Do nobles mind eating beef?”
“While it’s not their first choice, beef is often eaten by nobles during winter, when the weather makes hunting venison difficult.”
“I see. So they won’t turn up their noses at my special dish, right?”
“It won’t be their first option, but it’s likely they’ll accept it.”
“Good. Next question: the nobility doesn’t engage in trade, correct?”
“No, Your Highness. Nobles look down on commerce, craftsmanship, and the arts in general.”
“But there’s no law against it, right? It’s more of a social thing.”
“That’s correct, Your Highness.” Gonzalo didn’t really understand my questions, but he answered them anyway.
The Kingdom of Apollo had been taking more tribute from us lately. With the fall of the Gray Fist, they seized the opportunity to hire its former members as collectors—and take nearly the whole share.
A filthy move… but effective.
“You remember hamburgers, right?” I asked. “The dish we served at my ninth birthday.”
“Yes, I remember…”
“I’m thinking of giving the recipe to the public and opening a hamburger restaurant in the center of the city. It doesn’t take many ingredients to make, and every cook can invent their own variation. The point is to feed the population with cheap, efficient food that’s easy to mass-produce. That way we kill two birds with one stone: the lack of affordable food and our economic problems.”
“Uh… Your Highness, are you planning to solve the kingdom’s problems by selling hamburgers?”
“Yes,” I replied with a mocking grin. “This is more than selling hamburgers, Gonzalo. I plan to prove that merchants have the potential to become more powerful. The law demands tributes in production, not so much in coin. The Kingdom of Apollo loves taking our food and resources—gold too, but they don’t value it the way they value our wheat. So they’ll think we’re weak… but we’ll create good food with few ingredients and use the money to fill the kingdom’s coffers through the private sector.”
“You want to use the private sector to fill the coffers? How?”
“Businesses are currently owned by the crown. Every craftsman and merchant needs a permit just to sell things, and on top of that they pay unfair tributes. Farming is still the biggest source of work for the peasantry—but that’s going to change soon. My goal is to give more power to merchants and make the nobility get involved with them.” I paused to breathe, then smiled again. “I’ll eliminate permits and allow anyone to open whatever business they want, as long as they pay the kingdom a certain amount—based on the profits they earn. That way people can sell not only essentials, but services too. Private bodyguards, adventurers’ guilds, tailors, bakers, armorers, blacksmiths, and farmers. Everyone will be free to trade—and we will benefit.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“You make it sound easy, Your Highness, but changing the law that abruptly will be too complicated. I suggest moving little by little.”
“You’re right, Gonzalo. Little by little—after all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Rome?”
“An ancient city from a very distant place. Don’t worry about it.” I sighed, continuing and shifting the topic. “About the business I want to open: I’m going to use Ingrid Wall as a front name. She has no land and no income. Since we’re engaged, once the marriage is consummated, the company will belong to both of us.”
“Why not just put it in your name?” my assistant asked again.
“You said it yourself—changing everything too fast will raise suspicion. Using Ingrid will reveal my intentions, yes, but I won’t be violating a social norm, and once I hold power, I’ll pass the law myself. For now, I need you to start investigating people’s incomes, families’ living standards, and where to place the main business. These years will be for planning. Everything will be executed once I reach adulthood.”
“That makes sense. You and Miss Ingrid won’t marry until eighteen, at your request. That means you have two years to found the company and make it run. Once the marriage is consummated, the restaurant will already be producing profit—and at the same time, other businesses will have adopted their own versions of hamburgers, making the flow of capital easier. It’s well thought out, Your Highness. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Gonzalo. It’s all thanks to your teaching.” My decision to marry at eighteen had nothing to do with this plan—I just didn’t want guilt over being involved with a minor under Mexican laws.
“Is that everything you needed to know?”
“There’s more,” I said. “I want your opinion on our army.”
“To discuss military matters, you should go to Sir Einar. He’s better qualified than I am.”
“I know. That’s exactly why I want your opinion. I’ve already spoken with Sir Einar, but I need a neutral, inexperienced view. It’s always good to see both sides of the coin.”
“Our army is in terrible shape. We barely have trained men-at-arms. The rest of our forces are levies and poorly trained militia. Most are forced recruits, and desertion rates in offensive campaigns are very high.”
“Yes. Sir Einar and I agreed on that. No one wants to march to their death. War is a horrible place, and reasonable people will do everything they can to avoid being drafted. From what I’ve studied in books, I can conclude without fear of being wrong: an army recruited at swordpoint won’t last more than two years on campaign.”
We fell silent, letting that sink in.
“I’m no military expert, Your Highness. What do you suggest?”
“I have two options. I haven’t discussed them with Sir Einar because I wanted your opinion first. The first is to create a new army made entirely of volunteers—permanent, trained troops whose profession is war. Imagine a standing corps of men-at-arms for the entire kingdom, not just the duchies. The second option is to keep using levies, but give them motivation to take up arms willingly, plus regular training for everyone who might be recruited. For that, we’d start a campaign of radical nationalism that inspires young people to volunteer.”
Gonzalo brought his right hand to his chin, stayed quiet for a few seconds, and finally answered.
“The second option is the ideal. We don’t have the resources to raise a permanent army.”
“I understand. That’s what I thought too.”
I hated to admit it, but my main idea had been to raise an army similar to Rome’s—divided into legions, giving soldiers the chance to rise through merit instead of social rank.
But for that I needed capital, organization, and many retainers—things we didn’t have yet.
“I suggest you start projecting a martial image, Your Highness. Men will follow you if you show courage in battle. Just make sure you don’t throw your life away.”
“I have no intention of dying, Gonzalo. But I’ll keep it in mind. That’s all. You may go.”
“Understood. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
My teacher left the room, leaving me alone with the books and scrolls piled on the table. I stood up, left the study chamber, and walked straight to my room.
There, I picked up the thick book A History That Ended and finished reading the final paragraphs:
With the destruction of the Elven Empire, magic began to fade little by little. Fewer humans were born capable of using it, and eventually the techniques were lost over the years. It was not immediate—dozens of generations passed until legendary stories became legends, and then myths.
All covered in lies, mysteries, and manipulations. Today only these books remain to remember those fantastic days, when sword and magic could grant success to any brave adventurer. But perhaps things were not as I tell them here.
Reality is fragile, and testimonies change as eras pass.
Now, dear reader, you may wonder if magic will ever return to this world. The answer is no. Everything that begins has an end—it is nature’s cycle.
The Mythic Era began with the dawn of the elves and ended with their dusk. Now it is humanity’s turn. The world has adapted to our needs and ambitions. In truth, we never fully understood magic, which is why it did not affect us much when it disappeared.
Not so for the elves, whose entire civilization collapsed without it. This story is also an important reminder: nothing is eternal, not even great empires.
This story has ended—but ours is only beginning.
I closed the book and set it on the table.
I had read the entire fantastical history of this world, and honestly, I was amazed by the landscapes and characters described. No wonder Sora loved talking about the Mythic Era—a world full of magic, monsters, and heroes.
I wanted to know more, but only as a hobby. It wasn’t among my priorities to get deeply involved with magic. That tiny remnants still existed, I was sure—because I myself was living proof.
I reincarnated as the poorest king in the world.
And my presence had to have an explanation.
I found no other reincarnated people in the book, nor any out-of-place mention like a strange object from my previous world.
In other words… and with fear of being wrong:
“There were no reincarnated people in the Mythic Era.”
Part of me had expected that answer—but I couldn’t take it as absolute truth. Maybe the supposed reincarnated person had been a Japanese high schooler, or an ordinary Mexican office worker with no special knowledge.
Either way.
There was no point in wrecking my brain over it.
All I could do was focus on what was right in front of me.