162 - The Freed S*aves Became Obsessed

### Chapter 162: Tales from Childhood When I was a child, sitting on my mother's lap, I would listen to stories. Fairy tales always begin like this: "Once upon a time." The moment those words are spoken or read, the chaos of the world fades away, inviting us to realms that might never exist, or to castles floating high in the sky. It's a magical chant that blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, ushering us into a world where the impossible becomes possible. Cinderella teaches us to dream through her glass slipper, while the Little Mermaid’s choices teach us love. We learn the folly of lying from the Boy Who Cried Wolf, Jack's revolutionary mindset from his theft of the giant's treasures, and wisdom from the three little pigs who survive by outwitting the wolf. In these tales, we find courage, occasionally wetting our cheeks with tears, but ultimately, we bask in the gift of hope. Even when the child who once read those fairy tales grows into an adult, those stories continue to glow in our memories, like a warm ember in our hearts, regardless of how cold the world becomes. I plan to use these fairy tales to sway the hearts of the dwarves. “A fairy tale, huh? Do you think it will evoke the response you desire?” “Ha ha, of course.” “How can you be so confident?” “Because I’ve already succeeded once before.” Ulbram looked at me, clearly puzzled. He saw me as having baseless confidence, but I had reasons of my own. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It's a story so well-known that it’s hard to find someone unfamiliar with it on Earth. It’s cherished in books, animations, and even live-action adaptations*.* ‘Though one live-action adaptation seemed to fail miserably.’ Something about a Black Snow White or Black Mud Princess. Not my concern, for I crossed over here before it was released. The key is not to make blunders. My task is to adapt the tale to suit the current situation and distribute it as a fairy tale to the dwarves. It's what one might call cultural propagation. I intend to ignite the innocent imaginations of this world’s people. Producing a book isn't difficult at all. In a magical world like this, more so in the artisan nation of Doomheim, creating books is a breeze. *** The dwarf warriors destined to save Doomheim assembled in one place. One was the scribe who’d transcribe the story I told. Fairy tales don’t require complex content or eloquence, but someone who makes a living with a pen would certainly write it better than I could. The others were illustrators tasked with the drawings. For regular books, text alone suffices, but fairy tales hinge on their illustrations. I aimed to select an illustrator whose style suited the tale we were crafting. First, we needed to decide on the story. The base, of course, is the tale of Snow White, using Ashies as the motif. It’s a story of a princess oppressed by her stepmother and facing life-threatening peril, only to be saved through the help of dwarves—ideal for evoking a positive reception from the dwarves as they act as the protectors of the princess from evil. ‘However, it feels a tad inadequate.’ If I were a renowned author, they’d perhaps react with, ‘A story of our race in Karami’s work?!’ But currently, that’s not the case. What’s paramount is that this is a fairy tale. Though the Snow White narrative would offer fresh intrigue in this entertainment-starved world, it might be too tame for fully grown adults. What's necessary is stimulation. Stimulation enough for adults to also be thoroughly entertained. “Here is the rough draft of the story. Please write it like this.” I handed the scribe a two-page draft filled with a moderate touch of embellishment. His eyes widened as he read through it. He angrily retorted, “Do you expect me to write this? This tale is an insult to dwarves! I was intending to assist because of Mr. Ulbram’s request, but I simply cannot!” I presented a hefty pouch of coins to the resistant dwarf. “Do you think to buy my pride with mere coins?” “They’re all gold coins.” “Why, for the princess, what wouldn’t I do? Sometimes, you have to value connections over pride. I’ll make sure it’s splendid!” Just like any era or place, artists often grapple with finances. The amount was too significant to turn down. With that, the scribe took the papers and disappeared. “Now. It's time for some illustrations, isn’t it?” I instructed the illustrators to start drawing. The theme was the lonely Ice Princess dwelling within her icy palace. Even with the same theme, each individual’s style varied. Whether it was the coins or the scribe's inspiration, everyone was putting in earnest effort to make their mark. The illustrators began submitting their completed works one by one. “Let’s have a look.” What I sought was whether they could capture the poignant and touching essence unique to fairy tales,and adequately reflect the beauty of Ashies. As expected, the styles were diverse. Some depicted a medieval style likely found in a museum, very typical. Others managed to make Ashies, a human, appear like a stocky dwarf. Some looked like schoolgirls running late with bread in their mouth – truly baffling. There was a suspiciously fuzzy pic that seemed like it was funded by someone with a peculiar amount of wealth. I told them to draw Ashies, but they just did whatever they felt like. Thankfully, there was one illustration that caught my eye. It had pastel tones with a wistful aura, perfectly harmonious with a fairy tale. “Who is the artist behind this illustration?” “That would be me.” “Splendid. I’ll commission you for the book’s illustrations.” “Understood.” The rejected illustrators sighed with disappointment, but oh well, better luck next time, you guys. The work wrapped up quicker than expected. Being a short fairy tale rather than an elaborate novel, and with only simple illustrations instead of a fully-fledged comic, it was a streamlined process. Each artisan presented their work to me, and I went through the feedback cycle, requesting adjustments to give it that fairy tale feel, until we reached a satisfactory completion. I gathered the finished manuscripts and sifted through them. "Hmmm…" I could hear the artisans nervously swallowing. No matter how skilled, the moment of presenting their work is always nerve-wracking. However, while I might lack an artistic eye, they are the master craftsmen of Doomheim. To my eyes, it was flawless and exemplary. “Excellent. I'm pleased with it.” “Phew...” The artisans heaved sighs of relief. With the manuscript complete, it was time to move on to production. I gathered the heads of the printing houses I had arranged beforehand. Having a printing press here in a city of advanced magic was no surprise. They could replicate texts through magical means. If dwarves could forge magic swords, magic tools, and magical wands, creating a mere copier was not beyond them. Naturally, mass-production would entail significant costs, but thanks to Rin, we have ample points to fund it. “Please produce enough copies so that each household might receive one.” The paper for the books was to be made from tree bark. Opting for parchment would not only be costly but would also require the slaughter of countless lambs across the continent, something I had no intention of becoming known for. The quality wasn’t much of a concern. We weren’t selling to nobles or donating to libraries. For now, it only needed to be decently readable. Under my direction, Doomheim’s entire printing industry went into 24-hour full operation. *** “Karami, here's a completed book.” Thanks to relentless effort from the printing staff and the machinery, books began to churn out rapidly. Since the machines handled the replication and binding, production was surprisingly efficient. I examined the fairy tale books to ensure their condition. While they weren’t high-end, they were satisfactory. “Good. Please continue this way.” I took a few of the finished books and went to find Ulbram. “Is this the fairy tale book you spoke of?” “Yes. It’s titled Snow White.” “Snow White. You’ve cleverly drawn parallels to the princess. But as a means of captivating hearts, it seems somewhat lacking.” As he pointed out, the book’s cover—consisting of an unadorned, deep brown wooden cover—looked quite plain since it was in a mass production format. Yet, I aimed for a quiet, introspective ambiance. This rustic wooden cover perfectly accentuated the inherent value of a fairy tale. “Please, take some copies. They’re for you and your peers." "You're giving them away for free?" “Certainly. I’d appreciate it if you could share them and spread the word.” I had put a lot of thought into how I should distribute the books. Ultimately, it’s a race against time. We aren't going to magically defeat Skadia just by convincing some dwarves. We must devise strategies and defenses to confront her. There are important places Ashies must visit even before any skirmishes arise. Moreover, indiscriminate distribution might dull the excitement. It’s better to allow a few to spread the buzz, leading to wider interest amongst others. The satisfaction of eventually getting to read a book one’s been eager about tends to amplify the joy. ‘Selling them could also help recoup any costs.’ Therefore, I decided to only distribute the books to key individuals. I handed books to Ulbram and the other staff. “Please do read it to your children as well.” The next day, the dwarves who received the books returned, Ulbram amongst them. They wore expressions so severe it seemed they might be there to protest. "Hey, what’s with this ending? My daughters caused an uproar after reading it, crying relentlessly.” "Why is the elf a helper to Snow White, but the dwarves portrayed as cowards?" The most effective way to provoke people: One is to shatter childhood innocence. And the other is a cliffhanger ending. Title: The Liberated Slaves Become Obsessed - Chapter 162 The task didn't take long to complete. Since it was not a grandiose novel but a short fairy tale, and only required simple illustrations instead of an elaborate comic, the process was straightforward. Once the artisans brought their completed work to me, we repeated the process of modifying it to give a fairy tale-like feel, and that was it. I gathered and reviewed the finished manuscripts. “Hmm…” I could hear the artisans nervously swallowing. Even the most skilled craftsmen feel the most tense when presenting their work. However, when it comes to art, my knowledge is limited, while they are the best artisans in Doomheim. To my eyes, the work was impeccable. “Excellent. I am pleased with it.” Their relief was palpable. With the manuscript complete, it was time to produce the books. I gathered the heads of the printing presses I had arranged in advance. Having a printing press is not unusual. In a city where magic is advanced, they use magic to replicate texts. Surely, if dwarves can make magic swords, magical tools, and magical staves, creating a copier is not too much of a challenge. Of course, mass production might incur substantial expenses, but I have plenty of points, thanks to Rin. "Please produce enough copies for distribution to each household." The paper used for the books would be made from tree bark. Using parchment would not only be costly but also mean the slaughter of numerous lambs across the continent, which I had no desire to become known for. Additionally, focusing on quality wasn't necessary. We were not selling to nobles or donating to libraries. This time, it just needed to be sufficiently readable. Under my direction, every printing house in Doomheim began working 24/7. *** “Karami, here is the completed book.” Thanks to the relentless efforts of the printing staff and machines, books were rapidly being completed. The entire process, from copying to binding, was done by machines, resulting in the books being produced more quickly than imagined. I checked through the fairy tale books to ensure their condition. Although the quality wasn’t top-notch, it was satisfactory. "Continue as you are." With a few completed books in hand, I went to find Ulbram. “Is this the fairy tale book you mentioned?" “Yes. The title is Snow White.” “Snow White, you say. It certainly conjures an image of the princess as intended. Yet it seems lacking in its ability to capture the people’s hearts.” As he noted, the book's cover was rugged—made of plain, dark brown wooden covers without any decorations, reflecting its mass-production nature. Nonetheless, I was aiming for a gentle and profound atmosphere, and this modest wooden cover was perfect to accentuate the essence of a fairy tale. "Please, do take some copies. They’re for you and your colleagues." "Are you giving them away for free?" “Of course. It would be great if you could share them and help spread the word." Distributing the books required careful consideration. Ultimately, time was the constraint. Trying to persuade the dwarves isn’t going to magically defeat Skadia. We need to develop strategies and defenses against her. There are places I need to take Ashies before any battle ensues. Distributing them aimlessly would only decrease interest. Instead, I should rely on a few to spread the intrigue, thereby piquing everyone else's curiosity. The satisfaction grew stronger upon finally reading a book one had been eagerly waiting for. ‘Selling them would also help recover some costs.’ Therefore, I decided to give the books only to key individuals. I handed copies to Ulbram and his colleagues. "Please make sure to read it with your children." And the next day. The dwarves who received the books returned to me, Ulbram among them. Their expressions were severe, as if they were coming to lodge complaints. "Hey, what's with this ending? My daughters caused an uproar after reading it, crying nonstop." "Why is the elf depicted as Snow White’s helper while the dwarves are portrayed as cowards?" One of the best ways to provoke people: Destroy childhood innocence. And leave a cliffhanger.