Chapter 92: A Lunch with the Royal Family
"I am so deeply honored, Your Majesty," Ernest muttered as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He would be given land of his own choosing. Anywhere he liked.
The Kingdom of Belfast was strikingly similar to Great Britain from his previous world. If he was going to choose land, he needed to think beyond beautiful scenery, fertile farms, or noble estates.
He needed resources.
Coal.
Iron.
Copper.
Limestone.
Everything required to build an industrial civilization.
His mind immediately began working.
Coal was the lifeblood of steam power. Without coal, there were no engines. Without engines, there were no factories, railways, or modern mines. Iron was equally important. Every machine he had built so far consumed absurd quantities of metal, and demand would only increase in the coming decades. If he could secure both coal and iron deposits, he could control the very foundation of industrialization in Belfast.
But where would that be?
A map of Great Britain appeared in his mind. He remembered studying it briefly in university while reading about the Industrial Revolution. Certain regions had become wealthy not because of fertile land or good weather, but because of what lay beneath the soil.
His eyes widened slightly.
Wales.
Northern England.
The Midlands.
He remembered names that had once seemed unimportant.
South Wales.
Yorkshire.
Lancashire.
The Black Country.
Places that had become the beating heart of Britain’s industrial revolution because they possessed enormous coal and iron deposits. Steam engines, railways, steel mills, and factories had flourished there because transporting coal and iron over long distances had once been expensive and difficult.
Industry went where the resources were.
Not the other way around.
His thoughts raced.
If the Kingdom of Belfast truly mirrored Great Britain’s geography, then there was a high probability that an equivalent region existed here as well.
"I’ll give you a map later but for now, I have a feast prepared for our guests."
King Edward smiled warmly and gestured toward the side of the chamber.
Along with Hollen, they were escorted to the dining hall of the royal palace where the feast had already been prepared.
The room was enormous.
Long windows overlooked the palace gardens, allowing streams of afternoon sunlight to pour across polished marble floors. Massive chandeliers hung overhead, their crystal ornaments scattering golden reflections throughout the chamber. The dining table itself was almost absurdly long, carved from dark oak and decorated with silver candelabras and intricate floral arrangements.
Ernest estimated that the table alone probably cost more than several houses in Helmarte.
Servants in black-and-gold uniforms moved with quiet efficiency, pulling chairs and arranging plates with practiced precision. The aroma of roasted meat, fresh bread, herbs, and wine filled the air.
As expected of royalty.
The feast looked more like a banquet prepared for foreign dignitaries than a simple luncheon.
"I have this prepared for you as you are my guest," King Edward said. "Usually this is reserved for foreign dignitaries and diplomats, but you, for someone who has helped a lot in foreign relations, I consider you the same."
For a brief moment, Ernest did not know how to respond.
Foreign dignitaries.
Diplomats.
Kings.
Princes.
These were people who represented entire nations.
And somehow, a fourteen-year-old former forge worker’s son from Helmarte was being placed in the same category.
Beside him, Hollen looked as though he had forgotten how to breathe again.
The older man slowly looked at the table.
Then at the king.
Then back at the table.
Ernest could almost hear his thoughts.
He used to make horseshoes.
Now he was attending diplomatic banquets.
Life had truly become absurd.
King Edward seemed to notice his expression and laughed.
"Master Hollen, you appear troubled."
The forge owner immediately straightened.
"Not troubled, Your Majesty."
"Then what?"
Hollen hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
"I was just thinking that if I told my younger self that one day I would dine in the Royal Palace, I would assume I had gone mad."
The king burst into laughter.
Even Queen Eleanor smiled.
"Then perhaps we are all a little mad," she said warmly.
Servants stepped forward and began placing dishes upon the table.
The first course alone was enough to feed several families.
Freshly baked bread still steaming from the ovens.
Roasted duck glazed with honey.
River trout seasoned with herbs.
Bowls of thick soup whose aroma filled the room.
There were cheeses, fruits, pastries, and bottles of wine bearing seals from several different kingdoms.
Prince Cedric was already staring at the roasted duck with alarming intensity.
"Mother," he whispered.
"You may begin eating once everyone is seated."
"Yes, Mother."
A few seconds passed.
"Mother?"
"Yes?"
"How much longer?"
Prince Arthur covered his face.
Princess Amelia laughed softly.
Even the king seemed greatly entertained.
Eventually, everyone took their seats.
Ernest found himself sitting opposite Princess Amelia, with Hollen beside him and Prince Arthur on his other side. The arrangement felt strangely deliberate.
As servants poured wine and distributed plates, King Edward lifted his glass.
"To Belfast."
Everyone raised their glasses.
"To Belfast."
The king smiled.
"And to Baron Ernest Teucher, whose inventions have made our kingdom wealthier, cleaner, and apparently far more interesting."
A few chuckles followed.
Ernest raised his glass as well.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The meal finally began.
For several minutes, the only sounds inside the dining hall were the clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of servants.
"This is delicious," Ernest said as he cut a piece of the roasted duck and tasted it. The meat was tender and rich, glazed with honey and herbs that he couldn’t immediately identify. He had eaten at wealthy merchants’ homes before, but this was on another level entirely.
King Edward looked pleased.
"Our royal chefs have served foreign kings and ambassadors for years. I would be deeply offended if you found the food lacking."
"I assure you, Your Majesty, I have no complaints."
"Excellent."
The king resumed eating with visible satisfaction.
For several minutes, conversation gave way to the meal itself. Servants moved quietly around the table, refilling wine glasses and replacing empty dishes with new ones. Prince Cedric attacked the roasted duck with an enthusiasm that suggested he had been waiting for this moment since morning, while Princess Amelia ate more gracefully, though she occasionally looked at Ernest with open curiosity.
Beside him, Hollen had finally relaxed.
Actually, relaxed was perhaps the wrong word.
The forge owner still looked overwhelmed, but the food seemed to have reminded him that despite the gilded walls and royal titles, this was still a meal.
He took another bite of trout and looked almost emotional.
Ernest leaned toward him slightly.
"You’re enjoying yourself."
Hollen swallowed and nodded.
"I don’t know what fish this is, but I would fight a man for another serving."
The comment made Prince Arthur laugh, and even the queen smiled.
Little by little, the atmosphere became less like an audience with royalty and more like a family sharing a meal with honored guests.
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