—
Now it had been nine hours since the creation of his first invention. After a sleepless night spent reveling in the excitement of crafting a piece of machinery for the first time in this life—or even his previous one—Gustave's mind refused to rest.
Unable to close his eyes, he couldn't help but brainstorm, letting his thoughts drift toward the distant possibilities of what this sleeve-mounted pneumatic gun might become if continuously upgraded.
He imagined this machine, which was essentially a magical nail gun, evolving into something far greater—like the Legion Arms from Lies of P: a prosthetic arm capable of mounting various weapons.
Not only that, but he also envisioned its potential as an all-purpose tool—serving not just as a weapon, but as a versatile instrument of creation.
And so, inspired by that thought, he dubbed his first invention RDBM 1.0. The name was taken from the initials of his maids—his hands, tools, and instruments—who had helped him bring it to life. He named it as such because he hoped that RDBM would continue to aid him in many more inventions to come.
Although RDBM was, at its core, a hybrid between a nail gun and the style of hidden blade mechanism from Assassin's Creed—only projectile-based—Gustave now understood that the potential of Runestones, or Runic Magic in general, was boundless.
He could envision RDBM, with the right blend of mystic and modern knowledge, evolving into an all-purpose tool rather than merely a weapon.
Coupled with his [Knowledge] ability—which allowed him to absorb and process information in real time and drastically shorten the experimentation phase of his creations—he knew that the key to countless inventions was already in his hands.
The real-time feedback from [Knowledge] enabled him to understand precisely what was happening during construction, minimizing trial and error to a remarkable degree. Meanwhile, [Recall] allowed him to review every mistake in perfect detail within his mind.
With his foundation in modern science, Gustave knew he was in an optimal position to develop RDBM into a true all-purpose tool.
Beyond that, when it came to Rune Magic as a whole, Gustave was certain that his abilities resonated so perfectly with the very principles of the craft that they embodied the dream of every Runewright on the Continent—and perhaps, he thought, he might even realize the lifelong ambitions of those who had devoted their lives to the art.
After all, the author of Places of Power and the Forgotten Age—a historical book that briefly explored the workings and origins of Glyphstones and Runestones—had once written that this form of Runic Magic could serve as the cornerstone for building a new world.
Both he and that long-dead scholar understood a simple truth: if Runic Magic were ever to become accessible to the common people, the veil of exclusivity surrounding sorcerers would eventually fade.
Knowledge would spread, empowering everyone to shape their own era rather than entrusting destiny to the whims of a few mages. By then, people would have awakened—able to diagnose mystical problems themselves—minimizing the risk of being exploited for a sorcerer's gain.
And the same would hold true in reverse—there would be no paranoid fear of the mystical growing into hostility, no blind hatred like the Witch Hunts born of that fear, condemning innocent magic-users and all things beyond the norm, even nonhumans merely linked to magic.
But Gustave also understood why Runic Magic had never become the foundation of technology all this time.
Unlike him, those who came before lacked the knowledge and perspective of modern science—an understanding that could have propelled Runic study far beyond simple weapon and armor enchantments.
Instead, most Runewrights remained stagnant, forever confined to crafting enhanced blades and breastplates. They were blind to the gold mine lying beneath their very noses, their understanding so narrow that the word enchantment across the Continent had become synonymous only with swords and armor.
It reminded him of Earth's own Dark Ages, when humanity's progress stagnated for nearly five centuries—a fate this Continent seemed to share.
In more practical terms, just as coal and steam had existed since prehistoric times but were only harnessed during the Industrial Age—and just as magnetism, known since the age of the Greek philosophers, was not fully exploited until the modern era—so too was the vast potential of Rune Magic left undeveloped by the people of this world.
That was why the gap between science and magic felt so immense here—a world where progress was dictated by sorcerers, individuals too selfish to share their discoveries with the public.
A prime example of this selfishness, which led to centuries of stagnation, was the Anti-Aging Elixir created by Ortolan. Originally intended to benefit the common people, it was instead hoarded by the sorcerers and turned into their exclusive privilege.
And with all that said, it was precisely why Gustave—armed with modern knowledge—could so effortlessly create an arcane, steam-powered gun, while the people of the Continent still obsessed over forging sharper swords.
Had they possessed even a basic understanding of scientific principles—or the perspective shared by those of the modern age—they would have realized that a sword's true lethality lies in the concentration of kinetic energy, not in its sharpness or grand enchantments.
By that point, if they had recognized its immense potential, Runewrights—or anyone studying Rune Magic—would have shifted their focus from simple armament enhancements to exploring all kinds of mechanisms that sparked their curiosity.
Just as Gustave himself had done, by harnessing the simple suction and push effects of the Aard Glyphstones—once capable of producing only a weak breeze—to create a pneumatic gun capable of propelling nails several meters at a speed of fifty meters per second, comparable to a medieval hunting crossbow.
The difference, however, was that his gun could reload automatically without the wielder's intervention. Nevertheless, even if the RDBM was still, in essence, a hunting crossbow, Gustave knew it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something far greater.
After all, he had yet to create any upgrades, and the parts he used were merely assembled from salvaged components rather than custom-made pieces. If he could get his hands on the custom-made parts he had designed, he would be able to showcase the full potential of his invention.
—
As he was carried into one of the royal expedition's long-distance carriages, Gustave listened to his mother Meve's endless parting words—reminders like "eat healthy," "don't play in the mud," "trust only Reynard Odo," and countless other well-meaning admonitions born of concern.
But since he still needed to maintain the act of a naive yet precociously intelligent toddler, he put on a serious expression and nodded solemnly, as if he truly understood the intricacies of the human heart.
In truth, he knew his mother was right—that the only person he could truly trust was Reynard Odo, at least according to the timeline knowledge he remembered from The Witcher.
Among all the political factions within the twin realms of Lyria and Rivia, when they were pushed to the brink by Nilfgaard's invasion, not a single member of the Council of Peers supported Meve or her resolve to fight back against the Black Ones.
They even went so far as to do golpe or coup de ta and to imprison her—and later, in secret, plotted her death. Even her son, Villem, had a hand in it, albeit indirectly, since his older brother was too foolish to realize when he was being manipulated.
If not for the intervention of the so-called Duke of Dogs, Meve—his mother in the original timeline—would likely never have been remembered as the unflinching heroine she became.
Instead, she would have been recorded in history as nothing more than an unremarkable queen who inherited her crown from her husband—though few would know that it was through her own effort that the two kingdoms of Lyria and Rivia were united.
That was why, from the very moment he was born into these twin realms, Gustave had no desire to form social connections with any of those cowardly, manipulative nobles—parasites who supported his parents' throne only when it served their own interests.
Especially a certain rotund individual who was now climbing into the carriage of his eldest brother with a fawning expression.
Watching Caldwell in silence, along with the line of nobles trailing behind their entourage, Gustave then received a farewell kiss on the cheek from his mother.
"Remember, don't eat too many sweets when you arrive in Cintra—especially in Vizima. Got it?"
Nodding earnestly, Gustave replied with all the seriousness of a toddler, "Mother, yes."
Looking at her son one last time, Meve kissed his forehead and whispered softly, "Be safe, my son. You are the hope of our twin realms."
Then, with a final glance, she turned away—returning once more to a duty her husband could never fulfill: purging the realms of those who sought to use the beheading of the sorcerer as an excuse for rebellion.
A rebellion that would arise from the remnants of the old nobility—those still unsatisfied with the union between the two kingdoms of Lyria and Rivia.
At the same time, she knew Ban Ard would not sit idly by. They would surely demand compensation—compensation that would soon bloat into a form of subtle slavery servitude—all for the execution of one of their own, a man they likely cared little for to begin with, given the selfish nature of mages.
Because of this, Meve was determined to drive Ban Ard's influence out of her lands entirely, for their relationship had already soured beyond repair after the events of the banquet two days prior.
Even though her husband had proposed a solution—to give in to Ban Ard's demands—she absolutely refused such an idea. Meve knew that if she went so far as to bow and apologize for her swift judgment, Lyria and Rivia would only bleed further.
That was something she could never allow, for these twin realms were but humble lands of farmers and herdsmen. If that were to happen, her homeland would be bled dry—stripped of everything just to satisfy the vanity and endless greed of those sorcerers.
And judging from history—as she well knew—when famine struck throughout the ages, mages had never gone out of their way to aid the common folk with their magic unless they were paid for it.
Because of that, if she allowed them to slither back into her royal court following her husband's advice, Meve was absolutely certain they would not spare so much as a glance at the suffering of her people once the kingdom's coffers lay empty and barren.
"My Meve mother is strong! Very, strong strong!"
Startled by her youngest son's loud declaration, Meve turned around to see Gustave smirking proudly as he spoke to his four maids. Chortling softly at her son's antics, she straightened her back, the weight of worry over the unrest within the twin realms easing.
With renewed composure and purpose, Meve turned and began walking with firm, regal steps. Her voice carried the authority of a queen as she commanded her intelligence advisors:
"Bring me every blacksmith's order list from the past two weeks. Report all recent horse trades, and any dealings involving carts or ships. And keep watch on the noble houses currently purchasing or seeking rare reagents and alchemical ingredients."
"I want to know who stands with me, and who stands against me. Most of all, I want to know what response those tower rats intend to make."
—
"Ehm… Your Highness? What are you doing?"
Shaking his head in amusement—knowing his maids had no idea he was just applying a buff to his mother—Gustave climbed down from the cushioned seat of the carriage and replied, "Nothing, nothing."
Now that no third parties were in sight—and with the coachman unable to hear anything due to the wind, the dampened wool lining, and the clatter of wheels over the road—Gustave could finally act normally again.
More importantly, he could re-equip the RDBM, since his mother—the only person permitted to touch or inspect his body—was no longer present.
Turning to his maid, he said, "Open the trunk. And help me equip the RDBM."
As Rosemary opened the trunk—its contents a baffling assortment of components that gave her a headache just looking at them—she couldn't help but ask worriedly, "But, young prince, isn't wearing this all the time dangerous? What if it suddenly ignites or something?"
"No, it's not that dangerous if you maintain a clear recall of your memories—and, more importantly, stay aware of your hand placement knowledge," Gustave replied.
"Truly?"
"Yep."
He took off his doublet and swapped it for an oversized one, then rolled up the sleeves so his maids could fit the contraption onto his arm. Click.
With the RDBM secured, Gustave ordered Delilah to open the trunk designated for nails.
He scanned the collection his maids had gathered yesterday—nails for doors and shutters, heavy spikes for bridges, even nails resembling Roman crucifixion spikes—until his gaze settled on long metal rods that could hardly be called nails.
Because these rods were never meant to become nails in the first place; they were forged to hold together chains used to restrain sorcerers, preventing them from casting magic. Taking one of the Dimeritium rods—bolts once used to fasten Dimeritium chains—his eyes lingered on its blunt ends.
Knowing he wanted the projectile to be effective against both humans and sorcerers, Gustave decided not to design separate RDBM variants for different types of ammunition. Instead, he would simply sharpen the Dimeritium rods, allowing them to pierce flesh while retaining their anti-magic properties—thus achieving two goals with a single solution.
However, he was well aware of Dimeritium's weakness: the metal was brittle and prone to bending, its density closer to that of an aluminum alloy. But no matter—a sharpened Dimeritium rod could still wound an adult, and that was all that truly mattered.
Even if the projectiles were single-use, as a royal, he had more than enough Dimeritium to spare, so he wasn't overly concerned.
Turning to Brenna and pointing at the whetstone they had brought, Gustave instructed, "Brenna, could you sharpen these Dimeritium rods to a point?"
Brenna squirmed in reluctance. Seeing this—and knowing Brenna didn't have calloused hands—Rosemary stepped forward. "Let me grind the Dimeritium rods, Your Highness. My father is a blacksmith; I know a thing or two about metal-grinding."
Not wanting her fellow maids to be judged lazy by the youngest prince, Rosemary added, "Brenna and Mira are usually good at knitting and sewing. If you need that kind of work, ask them."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Brenna and Mira sighed in relief as they looked at Rosemary. Gustave ignored their little exchange and turned his thoughts toward possible upgrades he could make to the RDBM—or to his fighting style while using it—with the materials at hand.
"In that case," he said, turning to Brenna and Mira, "stitch me a bandolier to hold these nails."
—
It had been two full days since their journey began out of Lyria City. Because it was far more convenient to travel to Cintra by ship than by carriage, the party had decided to make their way to Rivia City first—more precisely, to the harbor at Loch Eskalott—to board a vessel there.
Traveling entirely by carriage would have been a nuisance, especially with a company of nobles who enjoyed taking their time on the road.
As someone from a modern world, Gustave found the slow pace excruciating. He was used to far more efficient means of transportation—where the trip from the Lyria-Rivia kingdom and then to Cintra would have taken a single day by train. Now, the long, jostling journey left him frustrated and uncomfortable, occasionally even making him vomit along the way.
To make matters worse, the past two days had been a blur of delirium and madness—one marked by a full moon, the other by a Friday. Gustave's mood had sunk to rock bottom, and every small inconvenience seemed to irritate him beyond measure.
Thankfully, he could now see the walls of Rivia Castle rising in the distance, which lifted his spirits a little. He knew that traveling by ship wouldn't be nearly as bad as enduring a carriage ride across dirt roads littered with random stones that constantly jolted the wheels.
At least with a ship, he had some experience from his past life. Knowing that the buoyancy of old vessels wasn't all that different from modern ones, he was confident he wouldn't feel nearly as uncomfortable during the next leg of the journey.
Finally entering the city where he had been born, Gustave compared its current state to the winter of his last visit. Every year at the end of the season, his mother would bring the family here to spend the holidays. Looking out from the carriage window at the familiar streets, he found that little had changed.
The streets were broad and paved with cobblestones; carts laden with wheat and bushels of produce rumbled back and forth. The air carried the tang of fresh milk and the warm scent of baked bread. This was the Rivia he remembered—alive, grounded, and humbles.
Resting his chin on his hands, Gustave couldn't help but imagine a different future: a time when these same farmers and herdsmen would no longer haul food but instead transport metal gears, pipes, and mechanical instruments.
The time when their daily needs were met, and their labor turned toward craftsmanship and invention. Because that is just what Paragons do, improving the civilizations toward a better future. But because the road is long and there is so much to do before those dreams happen, he has but to sigh to himself and decided to focus on the current moment.
That meant making something out of used scraps. Perhaps, if he was lucky enough to find the right components, he could upgrade the RDBM even further. And since he had little else to do on the road, he would rather spend his time creating. Who knows—he might even stumble upon the perfect parts for some of his other project designs.
Turning to his four maids, Gustave said, "Girls, take the funds set aside by my mother, the queen, and buy as many interesting little trinkets as you can find. We still have some time before the entourage boards the ship."
"As you command, Your Highness."
But not long after they stepped out of the carriage, Gustave frowned as he saw them return empty-handed.
"Y-your Highness, Count Caldwell denied your request. H-he said it would just be a waste of coin."
Annoyance and perplexity written all over his face, Gustave snapped, "What the actual fuck does Caldwell have to do with it? Isn't Odo the one in charge of the entourage's royal funds?"
"Y-yes, Your Highness. B-but Crown Prince Villem s-said it would be better if the good man Caldwell handled the arrangements."
Bam!
"Y-your Highness! Your left hand!"
Swatting away the maid's hands as she tried to help, Gustave grabbed a handkerchief from the carriage's side compartment and wiped the blood off his knuckles himself.
"Fucking dumb donkey and gluttonous pig," he muttered under his breath.
He sighed, knowing there was nothing Reynard Odo could have done—he couldn't defy the so-called crown prince's orders. So, Gustave began to think of ways to get back at them. Rubbing his chin as he looked into the mirror at his own cherubic baby face, he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of weaponizing it for emotional damage.
Turning to his maids, Gustave said, "Pick me up in a baby carry."
Pausing briefly, he added, "And let's go to the nearest bookstore—one that belongs to a good subject of my mother's."
—
Author's Note: Long chapter. Nice.