The Gutenberg Problem
Scratch, scratch, scratch—
In the dead of night, the only sound that rang out with nerve-wracking persistence was the quill scraping against parchment.
"······."
It had been ten days since Janos infiltrated Germany.
It had been barely a week since Abraham left for Poland.
I stared with hollow, bloodshot eyes at the mountain of documents piled high on my desk.
No matter how much I processed all day, the pile never seemed to shrink; it felt as if these horrific stacks of paper multiplied like vermin the moment I stepped away to the restroom.
"Your Majesty, I request your signature."
Konrad, the Chief Chamberlain, oblivious to my state, dropped a fresh stack of papers onto the desk with a thud.
"What is this one?"
"It is a petition from the Prague Butcher’s Guild and the Leatherworker’s Guild. They are clamoring that they cannot survive due to the hygiene edicts you issued."
Konrad added with a troubled expression.
"You ordered them not to dump animal blood and entrails into the Vltava River. They claim the costs to collect, bury, or burn them separately are too high, and they are demanding subsidies or a relaxation of the regulations."
"These insane..."
I suppressed the urge to snap my pen in half and pressed hard against my temples.
"Are they so desperate to see a waterborne epidemic sweep through all of Prague? There will be no deregulation. Tell them to process it according to the regulations; I will review the subsidies later."
"Yes, I understand. And this is... a land ownership dispute from the south."
Konrad pushed the document forward even more cautiously.
"Following the fall of the Rosenberg family, three local petty lords are claiming the ownerless scraps of land as their own, and they are currently in a standoff after sending their private armies."
"Haa..."
I let out a deep sigh and clutched my head.
"What are the local officials or judges doing? Tell them to go and mediate."
"That is... there is no one to send."
"······."
"As you know, Your Majesty, the priests who understood the law and could read and write all fled during the last excommunication. There is not a single judge in the provinces who can issue a verdict on your behalf. It means that if the lords draw their swords, you are the only one who can stop them."
This was the problem.
Military matters could be left to Jan Zizka.
He was the greatest general, one who understood perfectly and executed flawlessly the moment I said, "Train," or "Destroy."
Economic matters could be left to Abraham.
He was a man of talent who, when told to "Make money," or "Control inflation," would somehow balance the numbers with the unique resourcefulness of his people.
But.
"Administration... I have no talent to entrust with administration!"
I let out a silent scream toward the ceiling.
Legal affairs, personnel, diplomatic practice, civil complaints, urban planning...
The vast administrative work required to run a nation was in a state of total annihilation.
The existing nobles?
They were so steeped in feudal customs that they couldn't even grasp the concept of the rule of law or administrative systems. If I entrusted them with work, nine times out of ten, they would embezzle for their family's gain or fail due to sheer incompetence.
Could I use the intellectuals, the priests? That was out of the question too.
Because I had stripped the church of its assets and even been excommunicated, the Catholic priests who could read and write had long since fled the lands of Bohemia.
The remaining Hussite priests or the scholars from Prague University were far too few in number.
If it weren't for the Jewish accountants Abraham brought, it wouldn't have been strange for Bohemia's state affairs to have been paralyzed long ago.
So, what could I do?
In the end, all practical judgments and responsibilities had to fall squarely on me, the King.
Damn it, to think I’d end up doing the overtime I did every day in my past life here in the Middle Ages.
No, it was even worse than back then.
Even as a researcher, I pulled all-nighters like it was nothing, but at least back then, I only had to focus on my area of expertise: experiments.
But now, I have to play the judge, the mayor, and the construction manager.
This was the literal definition of not having enough hands.
Konrad, with a worried face, replaced my cold tea and said, "Your Majesty, the night is deep. Please, retire to your chambers."
"I want to sleep, too. But if I sleep now, the documents will be piled to the ceiling by tomorrow morning."
I rubbed my dry eyes, stumbled to my feet, and headed toward the window.
And looking out at the dark night view of Prague, I muttered, "I need people, Konrad."
"Pardon?"
"I need smart bureaucrats who can understand my orders and execute them on their own. Not some noble trash, but real administrators who know the practical work."
Building schools is meaningless if there are no teachers, and creating law codes is useless if there are no judges.
But such talent doesn't just fall from the sky.
If they don't exist, I have to create them. In other words, education was necessary.
At the current speed, where scribes copy books one character at a time, taking months to finish a single volume, I couldn't establish a bureaucracy even in a hundred years.
Mass production of knowledge.
I need to print and distribute thousands, tens of thousands of textbooks and manuals.
That was the only emergency exit for me to escape this hell of paperwork.
"That is why I need him. Gutenberg."
In truth, I could build a printing press myself.
The principle is obvious. It’s just a wine press structure with the right alloy ratio for the type.
But I didn't have the time for that right now.
I was already busy enough to die; where would I find the time to hole up in a blacksmith shop, melting lead and carving type?
Technical officers like Tomas or Jakub performed well when I gave orders, but that was it. I had to supervise every single step to barely get a result.
That wasn't enough. I needed an expert who would be my hands and feet, not just a simple technician.
Not just for the printing press, but a true genius who, even in the future, would understand at a glance when I threw a rough design at them and bring back a perfect result.
Please... just have half the genius revealed in history.
I prayed earnestly, looking at the moon in the night sky.
***
Future historians would evaluate him thus:
If one were to name the person who had the most profound impact on humanity in 15th-century Europe, the name 'Johannes Gutenberg' would be written at the very front, alongside Martin Luther.
The metal movable type printing he invented shattered the monopoly on knowledge, ignited the spark of the Reformation, and became the foundation for the Renaissance and the Scientific Revolution.
He was a pioneer ahead of his time, a great inventor, and a teacher of humanity who ended the age of barbarism.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that Gutenberg's printing technology led humanity into a new era called modernity.
But those brilliant modifiers were merely honors to be attached after 1450, or in a much more distant future.
April 1421, Strasbourg, Holy Roman Empire.
The current 'Johannes Gensfleisch' was nothing more than a young metalworker whose life was hopelessly tangled, and a malicious debtor.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The old wooden door rang as if it were about to shatter.
"Come out! We know you're in there! You swindling bastard!"
"Johannes! Give me back my money! You said you’d hit the jackpot with the mirror business! You said the pilgrims of Aachen would be lining up!"
"Hiding won't help! If we catch you today, we’ll melt your bones along with the lead!"
Johannes, crouched in the darkness, bit his nails nervously behind the desk he had used to barricade the door.
His hollow eyes were burning with rage rather than fear.
"Damn it... those ignorant fools. Like idiots who don't know art..."
Born into a prominent noble family in Mainz, he had been chased out due to a dispute with the guild and had been drifting here in Strasbourg for several years.
He had launched all sorts of businesses, dreaming of a comeback.
Gem polishing, manufacturing mirrors for pilgrims...
The items were perfect. But he had no luck.
Who could have known that an epidemic would break out and cancel the Aachen pilgrimage?
The thousands of mirrors he had made were covered in dust in the warehouse, and all that remained were mountains of debt and legal documents.
But Johannes did not give up.
Because he had a greater plan.
"I told you to wait! Just a little, just a little more, and the perfect machine will be finished! Are you holding back a genius because you're stingy over a few measly gold coins?"
He felt wronged.
He was not a swindler.
It was just that the era could not keep up with his speed.
Yet these stupid investors were blinded by the breadcrumbs in front of them and were trying to kill the goose that laid the golden eggs.
Crack!
He heard the sound of a hinge being ripped off. Through the gap in the door, the murderous glint in the eyes of the creditors flashed.
The door’s resistance was at its limit.
"Damn it!"
Johannes hurriedly scanned the workbench.
He didn't even glance at the leftover hard bread or dirty clothes.
Instead, what he grabbed were small metal pieces made by mixing lead and tin, and a bundle of complex blueprints drawn on parchment.
This, at least, cannot be! Even if I give up my life, I cannot let this secret be stolen!
He quickly shoved the blueprints into his chest and ran to a small window in the corner of the workshop.
It was a narrow opening he had made for ventilation, barely large enough for one person to squeeze through.
"Just break it down!"
"One, two, three!"
Kwang!
The moment the door shattered and men wielding clubs poured in, Johannes threw his body out the window.
"Huh? That guy is fleeing through the window!"
"Catch him! Catch that rat!"
Johannes struggled as his belly got stuck in the narrow window frame, then desperately rolled onto the floor, dodging the hands reaching out from behind.
"Ugh!"
Plunged into the mud, he jumped up without even feeling the pain.
His knees were scraped and his clothes were torn, but checking if the 'parts' in his chest were safe was the priority.
"He's running away over there!"
"Stop! Johannes!"
The shouting from behind grew closer.
Johannes began to crawl and flee through the alleyways like a beast.
His heart felt like it would burst. The pain of his lungs tearing apart surged through him.
But if he stopped, it was the end. Either go to prison, or be beaten to death by those angry creditors.
I... I am not someone who will end like this!
He gritted his teeth and turned the corner of the alley.
If he turned this corner, it was the main road. If he mixed in with the people, he could live.
It was the moment he was running at full speed, harboring that hope.
Thud!
"Argh!"
A shock, as if he had collided head-on with a solid fortress wall—no, a giant boulder—struck his entire body.
"Kuek!"
Johannes couldn't even scream properly and tumbled backward.
The precious metal type samples he had been holding in his arms clattered and scattered on the muddy ground.
"Ouch, my back..."
Johannes grimaced, sitting on his bottom.
What kind of idiot was standing in the way?
Was he blind? If someone is running, shouldn't he move out of the way!
He raised his head to pour out a bucketful of curses.
"Hey! Where are you looking with your...!"
But the voice couldn't make it out of his mouth.
Bi, big.
A giant who looked a head taller than himself.
A heavy longsword hanging at his waist.
And indifferent eyes looking down coldly like a wolf.
Looking only at his face, he looks much younger than me...
The tall man looked at the fallen Johannes and opened his mouth dryly, as if looking at a pebble kicked on the roadside.
"I'm looking for someone."
The man took a crumpled piece of parchment from his chest.
It was German, but the tone was mixed with a strange Hungarian accent.
"The name is... Johannes Gens... something Gutenberg, they said. Do you happen to know him?"
The man's gaze alternated between Johannes's face and the metal type scattered on the ground.
"Uh..."
Johannes opened his mouth blankly.
In the alley behind him, the shouting of the creditors was drawing closer.