Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master

Chapter 12.2

“The Grand Witch of Spring could be helpful in battle.”

Sir Eote pressed on, undeterred.

“If we summon her here now... the greenhouse farms will be severely impacted. At least ten thousand people in the High Tower will go hungry.”

Arina firmly shook her head at the knights’ concerns.

“...”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“Do not worry. I will not die, and neither will you.”

Such was the unyielding noblesse oblige of Renslet, bordering on obstinacy.

“The reason we’ve been able to defend the North from barbarians, monsters, and orcs is because every soldier, from the lowest rank to the ruler, wields their sword on the battlefield with a united purpose.”

Ironically, it was this very principle that had allowed the North to endure its endless battles against savage foes.

“Even if I fall, the North will not falter. My people are Renslet.”

This tradition of rulers leading from the front had solidified the people’s morale, even amid relentless hardship.

No matter how many husbands, fathers, or sons died in battle, the people’s loyalty to Renslet never wavered.

Of course, if Arad—aware of the original timeline—had witnessed this scene, he would have shaken his head in exasperation.

—

Meanwhile, at Jack’s Inn

As I modified my carriage and crafted magitech devices to equip it, I kept my ears open for news from the outside.

“They haven’t left Haven yet?”

The top priority was, of course, the Grand Duke and her knights staying at Polly’s Inn. Despite looking ready to leave at any moment, they were still in Haven, busy inspecting the city’s fortifications and defense protocols.

“Something must have happened in the Demonic Realm, but... it’s quiet?”

My second priority was the Demonic Realm itself. Yet, it remained eerily silent.

Neither the information I gathered through Haven’s adventurers’ guild nor the reports from recently returned adventurers hinted at anything unusual.

“The history of the North has been too thoroughly erased by the Empire. So frustrating. Especially Arina’s story—it exists only as oral tradition.”

The advantage of knowing a timeline 100 years into the future was almost useless.

I had no idea what might be unfolding in the Demonic Realm at this point in time.

—

One day, while I was taking a break at Jack’s Inn instead of working in the warehouse, the Grand Duke and her knights paid a visit.

“You’re here.”

I handed him a leather pouch.

“What’s this?”

The pouch, crafted by me, was elegantly made and immediately caught their attention.

“It contains Arad Salt.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Balzac and the knights accepted the gift with bright smiles.

“By the way, where did you get this pouch?”

“I made it myself.”

“Your skills extend beyond cooking. Truly impressive.”

And so, I concluded my time at Jack’s Inn with a perfect send-off.

“Thank you for everything.”

“?!”

It was then that Arina, with her hood pulled low, suddenly extended her hand to me, offering a simple yet heartfelt thanks.

“...!”

Momentarily stunned, I stared at her hand and partially concealed face. Even the knights around her seemed surprised.

“Iria, a humble knight of the High Tower.”

Ignoring their reactions, Arina introduced herself under a pseudonym.

“I am Arad Jin.”

I carefully took her calloused hand and bowed. Her hand was rough and hardened, but it carried a warmth that lingered.

—

That Afternoon

Arina and her knights left Haven.

I stood at the city gates, watching the direction they disappeared into before heading back to the warehouse.

—

Three Days Later

I, too, left Haven, pulling my newly modified carriage behind me.