Lady Alice’s Diary

Chapter 9: A Talk with Father

Alice sat at her desk, quietly gazing out at the rain.

It had been falling for a whole day.

Suddenly, a blanket was draped over her shoulders.

Alice turned and saw Bella watching her with calm eyes. She smiled softly.

“Miss, the weather’s turning cold. Please take care of yourself.”

“Thank you, Bella.”

Bella’s heart warmed as she watched Alice return to her papers, scribbling and sketching away. At last, Alice no longer seemed as dazed and hollow as she had in the days before. At last, she had returned to her favorite pastime—filling paper with her strange little doodles. (Or so Bella thought.)

Ever since the Doris incident, Alice had stayed inside the castle for more than a week. Bella’s favorite thing during that time was simply being near her—watching her every word, her every smile.

“Bella, is Father in the castle today?”

“The Duke hasn’t gone out. He should be in his study right now.”

“Alright, I’ll go check.” Alice rose, gathering the paper she’d just been working on.

“Miss, at least put on another layer before you go,” Bella said firmly, stepping in front of her.

“Ugh… fine.”

Alice sometimes hated that her home was an old castle. From the outside it looked ancient, but inside it was plain—clean, but not luxurious. The only truly lavish place in the whole fortress was her own bedroom.

What she hated most, though, was its sheer size. Just walking to the dining hall or her classroom felt like a trek.

After asking a few servants and confirming that Duke Eberon was indeed in the study, Alice made her way there and pushed the door open.

The duke looked up in surprise. Normally, at this hour, Alice was either tinkering with some odd little invention in her room (as Bella often reported) or out running around with her guards. Coming to his study at this time was a first.

“Well, well, look who it is.” Eberon set aside his work, bent down, and pinched Alice’s nose. “Next time, remember to knock before you barge in, sweetheart.”

Alice stepped back, dodging his hand, rubbed her nose, and muttered, “Got it, dear Father.”

Eberon chuckled and guided her to the sofa by the window.

“So, what brings you here, my dear?”

Alice didn’t answer right away. She sank into the cushions instead, running her fingers over the fabric. Softer than the stiff chairs in her room—though still not quite up to the sofas she remembered from her past life.

“Didn’t know Father’s study had such a comfortable sofa,” Alice thought. “I must’ve missed it before. Or maybe it’s new?”

“Alice? You seem more interested in the furniture than in me,” Eberon teased.

Alice snapped back to attention.

“Uh… I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“My work’s mostly done. Nothing urgent left. Tell me—what’s on your mind?”

“Well then, Father, please take a look at this.” Alice handed him the paper she carried.

Eberon had already noticed it when she walked in. He unfolded it and studied the neat lines dividing the page into uneven sections, each labeled: “Today’s Headlines,” “Noah Plains Oddities,” “Nobles’ News,” “Commonfolk Stories.”

When he finished reading, he gave Alice a puzzled look. He knew she was clever—often to the point of baffling adults—but this was something entirely new.

“I’m calling this a newspaper,” Alice explained calmly, without the slightest hint of guilt for stealing an idea from Earth’s history. “A paper for reporting the news.”

She pointed to each section as she spoke. “Here, we’ll write the major events of the Noah Plains. Here, interesting stories—whether noble gossip or commonfolk tales. And here…”

When she finished, Eberon leaned back and said, “Well, this is certainly… unusual. Only your peculiar mind could come up with something like this. But what’s the real point? Why record all these things?”

“Father, it won’t just be me recording them. Everyone will.” Alice’s eyes shone with urgency.

“Everyone?”

“Yes! If we set up a press house—” she hesitated, then added, “a place dedicated to collecting stories and putting them on paper. Then we work with a printer to make many copies and sell them. It’ll definitely make money.”

That caught his attention.

“Hmm. I see. If people only write for themselves, it doesn’t matter much. But if the whole community can read it—yes, that’s different. The people of the Noah Plains would want to know what’s happening around them, but they can’t always hear it right away. And by the time word spreads, it’s usually twisted. With this… newspaper, they could know things almost instantly. Even about some of my decisions.”

Alice nodded eagerly, watching her father’s expression. If he rejected her idea, she’d have to wait years before newspapers became possible.

Eberon fell silent, lost in thought. Then his gaze landed on two sections: “Nobles’ News” and “Commonfolk Stories.”

“In a world where nobles and commoners walk separate paths, something like this could bridge the gap. If nobles read about commoners as real people, not mindless ants… and if commoners see that nobles are not so different from themselves… yes, this could ease tensions.”

His eyes lit up.

“But tell me, Alice. Printing is expensive. One sheet this large, printed on both sides, would cost about twenty copper coins. Far beyond what a commoner could afford. Unless you mean for nobles only?”

Eberon wasn’t planning to turn a profit from this—he already saw its value in maintaining peace. But he wanted to test her.

Alice grinned. “I asked around first, including old David the steward. I know the costs. That’s why I’ll set the price at… two copper coins.”

“Two?!” Eberon nearly dropped the page. At that price, commoners could buy it—but the Lancaster family would bleed money in no time.

“Sweetheart, you can’t be serious.”

“I am.” Alice flipped the page back, pointing to a blank square marked with the word “Advertisements.”

“Advertisements?” Eberon repeated, baffled.

Alice burst into laughter at his expression. It was the happiest she’d been in over a week.

“Father, this space is for merchants who want to promote their goods. If newspapers are cheap and everyone buys them, businesses will pay handsomely for space here. Ads will cover the cost of printing.”

Eberon stared, more stunned than when he’d learned about Alice’s bakery promotions.

Alice shifted nervously. “Maybe I’ve gone too far… I’m only twelve. Father must think I’m some kind of monster.”

But then he swept her into his arms. “Alice, dearest, how on earth did you come up with this?”

“It’s nothing. Just… from wandering outside these past two years, seeing things. And then one day I saw a shop promoting a new product. That gave me the idea of putting ads in the paper.”

Eberon laughed heartily, lifting her high. “My daughter is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”

“Father, please put me down.” She pouted, though part of her missed those moments of being tossed in the air as a child.

“And what if I don’t? What will my little princess do then?” he teased.

She glared at him, lips pursed.

“Hahaha… fine, fine.” He set her down at last.

“This newspaper—I like it. I’ll have someone contact the printers.”

“No, Father. Not yet. I want to borrow some money and do it myself.”

“You mean… you want to run it yourself?” Eberon’s jaw dropped again. By now, he’d lost count of how many times she’d shocked him today.

Alice nodded firmly.

Eberon studied her determined face, then took a deep breath and smiled. “Alright, sweetheart. I believe in you. You’ll make it work.”

Alice could hardly believe it. She had only hoped for his approval, never for permission to take charge herself. Most noble girls her age were still playing with dolls.

“Thank you, Father.” She threw her arms around him.

He stroked her hair with tender affection, smiling at the way she nuzzled against him. But then she looked up and said something that wiped the smile right off his face.

“Father, can I have these sofas moved to my room?”