After sending Lennon off, I turned my attention to sorting the mid-to-low-grade mana stones piled in the warehouse.

Fire attribute, water attribute, lightning attribute, earth attribute, wind attribute, dark attribute, light attribute, neutral attribute, wood attribute, ice attribute, metal attribute.

A total of eleven attributes of mana stones formed a small hill, radiating a faint glow.

On Earth, each one of these would have been treated like a ruby or sapphire due to their vibrant colors. The only downside was that, being mid-to-low-grade stones, their colors were somewhat dull.

Good thing I rented an additional warehouse.

For reference, I had rented one more warehouse.

The adjacent warehouse was filled to the brim with materials meant for modifying the carriage.

“Well, let’s get started.”

Of course, there was no way I could fit all the materials from two warehouses into a single carriage—physically speaking.

“Phew…”

I took a deep breath and pulled out a silver carving knife and an awl. Then, I began engraving magic circles onto the fire, light, lightning, and wind attribute mana stones.

In terms of magical engineering, this process was known as crafting mana circuits or magical circuits. In gaming terms, it was referred to as enchanting.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

Thanks to my maxed-out Dexterity skill and the Concentration stat that supported it, I could engrave mana circuits as precisely as a machine.

I was worried about the low-grade stones, but the success rate is higher than expected. Must be the influence of my Luck stat.

In less than an hour, I had engraved intricate, tiny magic circles onto over a hundred mana stones.

Next, I poured the fire, light, and lightning attribute mana stones with their engraved circuits into a prepared furnace.

Whoooosh!

An extraordinary heat, unmatched anywhere in the world, erupted from the furnace.

Into that furnace, I then added earth, fire, lightning, and ice attribute mana stones.

Moments later, golden liquid began flowing out of the furnace.

“…”

Staring at the golden liquid in a daze, it felt like I was mesmerized by a campfire. It even brought back memories of my life on Earth.

It had been quite some time since I found myself in this other world.

I missed the company I had left behind on Earth. I missed it so much that it frequently appeared in my dreams.

I hope there’s some kind of time compensation for this. If I save the North but get sent back to Earth several years in the future… then to hell with saving the North!

Who would have thought I’d end up starting a business in a fantasy world after playing one game too many?

Regret and frustration mingled in my heart.

“Let’s get back to work!”

Pushing aside my wandering thoughts, I began plating the partially dismantled carriage with the extracted golden liquid.

 

Meanwhile, at Polly’s Inn, a place where the Grand Duchess and Renslet’s high-ranking knights would often stay incognito during missions near the Abyss, an unusually heavy atmosphere hung over the establishment.

Of course, the presence of important figures could naturally bring a certain weight to the air, but this was different—a tense stillness, like the calm before a storm, as if war was imminent.

“…It seems none of the Frostblade knights except for me have made it,” Doyle said grimly.

Having delivered urgent news and taken some time to recover, the knight spoke with a dark expression.

Despite waiting for several days in hopes that another returnee might arrive, no one else came.

“You’ve done well, Sir Doyle,” Arina said softly.

“No, I’ve done nothing… Nothing at all. Never before have I felt so regretful that I couldn’t use Winterhawk in the Abyss,” Doyle replied, his shoulders slumping.

The Frostblades, Renslet’s intelligence organization, bore a name that would remind anyone from Earth of a legendary cursed sword from a famous exclamation game.

Doyle, one of their knights, sighed heavily, his posture radiating defeat.

“No, you ensured your comrades’ sacrifices weren’t in vain. That alone preserves your honor,” Balzac said, shaking his head as he reassured the knight.

“For the Frostblade knights who lost their lives during this mission, there will be honorable treatment and fitting rewards. Their families will inherit their glory and compensation,” Arina added, speaking solemnly to honor the fallen knights under her name.

After a moment of silent prayer for those who could not return, the Grand Duchess and her knights resumed their meeting.

“Undead roaming the depths of the Abyss… It’s clear a high-level necromancer has emerged,” one knight commented.

The knights of Renslet regularly conducted reconnaissance deep into the Abyss—a place where lax vigilance could lead to strange monsters awakening. This responsibility also fell to the Frostblade knights, who primarily handled intelligence and reconnaissance missions.

The Abyss wasn’t just home to monsters and imperial adventurers but also unholy figures like black magicians.

“In the depths of the Abyss, a necromancer leading the undead would likely be operating from the Demon’s Lair. It could even be someone of mage-level power.”

“The Demon’s Lair, huh… Damn black magicians! They’ve been quiet for a while, and now they’re stirring up trouble again,” another knight spat in frustration.

During this mission, the Frostblade knights had witnessed a harrowing scene, so overwhelming they had to flee, unable to retrieve their comrades.

“It’s unlikely the black magicians alone could control the Abyss’ monsters. They’ve probably discovered a new Golden Age dungeon deep in the Abyss,” another suggested.

“That’s likely. The Abyss was originally a sanctuary for mages at the end of the Golden Age—a sacred place for them, especially for those in the Demon’s Lair.”

“We must deal with them before they can stir further from the depths of the Abyss,” Arina stated firmly.

For now, Haven remained quiet. Most adventurers, except for a few elites, confined their activities to the Abyss’ entrance.

Ironically, the Abyss was both a calamity and a financial lifeline for the North. While its entrance was rife with ferocious monsters, it also offered rare and valuable resources.

“Should we recruit priests as well?” Doyle proposed hesitantly.

“It’s difficult to face black magicians who use necromancy with just knights. We’ll need divine power.”

“Priests? Are there even any clergy left in the North?”

“If necessary, we could request support from the Imperial Church. With black magicians involved, they might…,” Doyle began before being interrupted.

“Don’t even mention the Empire,” another knight cut him off. “They’ll just use this as an excuse to push another outrageous marriage proposal to Her Grace!”

The knights’ reaction was ice-cold.

“The first proposal was for her to become the Emperor’s ninth wife, wasn’t it? And the most recent was to be the Crown Prince’s fourth. Who knows what nonsense they’ll suggest next,” Arina added with a bitter smile.

“Such disrespect from the Imperial Family!” one knight exclaimed.

“Absolutely! We cannot agree to anything. It’s clear they intend to annex the North under the guise of marriage.”

“If such a marriage united the North and the Imperial Court, it would bring nothing but misery to Renslet and our people. We must never forget the arrogance and disdain the Imperials have shown us,” another knight declared passionately.

"The Empire sees us as little more than orcs wearing human skin. Accepting this marriage proposal would be equivalent to handing over all of the North's people as slaves to the Empire."

The room quickly turned into a stage for condemning the Empire's atrocities.

“Ugh… I misspoke,” Doyle muttered, realizing the intensity his comment had sparked.

“No, I understand why you brought it up, Sir Doyle. You've faced the necromancers directly, so it’s only natural to feel fear,” Balzac said, attempting to calm him.

Ultimately, Doyle’s suggestion to request assistance from the Empire was swiftly dismissed.

“Bringing a high priest from the Empire would certainly reduce casualties, but even so, the Empire is not an option!” another knight exclaimed.

“Yes, understood…” Doyle replied, his voice subdued.

“Don’t worry too much. A black magician falls the same way as anyone else before a blade imbued with aura,” Balzac reassured the disheartened Doyle, giving him a comforting pat on the back.

“This mission will be handled swiftly and solely with our own strength. We will neither disrupt the witches' cultivation nor seek assistance from the Empire,” Arina declared decisively after listening to her knights.

“There’s even a chance that the Empire is behind this, just as they were when Prince Baikal was killed,” Balzac remarked coolly, his eyes glinting as he addressed Arina.

“Perhaps,” she replied tersely.

Relations between the Empire and the North were at an all-time low. To be fair, they were never good to begin with. The North, operating as an autonomous duchy, was practically its own country.

While autonomy was a good thing, the Imperial Court's intention in granting it was insidious. In exchange for independence, Renslet had to fend off barbarian invasions, monsters, and Northern orcs entirely on its own. The Empire had never once properly assisted the Northern Grand Duchy.

The Empire’s rationale was clear: they couldn’t risk empowering the North with economic strength on top of its already formidable military might. Such a scenario would be intolerable for the Imperial Court.

“The Empire’s recent actions are too blatant,” one knight observed.

“Monsters and barbarians from the north and west, and now humans from the south—our own supposed allies—are harassing us.”

“The Imperial Court has no right to treat us this way! We’ve shed blood and sweat defending the northern borders!”

“They don’t see us as Imperial citizens. Look no further than the 'Law of the Twenty,' which is still in effect in the Empire,” another knight pointed out.

“Exactly. To them, we’re still half-civilized barbarians with druidic blood in our veins.”

The Empire’s attitude had shifted following the death of Arina’s father, Baikal Rune Renslet, the previous Grand Duke of the North. He had died in a decisive battle against the Northern orcs.

The Imperial Court, as though waiting for this moment, began targeting Arina, who had recently come of age and ascended to the position of Grand Duchess. They proposed a series of marriage alliances, all of which Arina firmly rejected.

Her reasons went beyond the suspicious circumstances surrounding her father’s death. The proposals were particularly insulting—marriages to the aging Emperor, old enough to be her grandfather, or the Crown Prince, already married with three wives.

The Imperial Court’s intentions were clear: to turn the North into a territory directly controlled by the Empire.

“The necromancer in the Abyss will be dealt with by us alone,” Arina declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. “If the Empire tries to interfere upon hearing about this, refuse them outright.”

Her resolve was unshakable.

“Agreed! The North has always been self-sufficient. We don’t need the Empire!” one knight exclaimed passionately.

“Exactly! We’ve never depended on the Empire. Their support is unnecessary,” another chimed in.

“Even if they try to provoke us through trade restrictions as they did last time, we’ll endure as we always have.”

“The most problematic issue, spices, has already been resolved with Arad’s Salt. We have even less reason to care about the Empire now,” a knight added.

The North had always struggled under the Empire’s petty trade restrictions. Recently, the Empire had even used spices as a tool to destabilize the Renslet nobility and vassals. However, Arad’s Salt had effectively neutralized this threat.

“Speaking of Arad’s Salt, what’s Arad Jin up to these days?” someone asked, steering the conversation toward the creator of the miraculous seasoning.

“I heard he bought a carriage.”

“A carriage?”

“Yes, and he’s been frantically gathering all sorts of miscellaneous materials to fill it.”

“Perhaps he’s starting a small merchant company? He does have a wanderer’s spirit.”

“That seems likely. It looks like he changed his plans after being unable to join us.”

“That’s a relief. It’s unfortunate we can’t keep someone as talented as Arad close, but…”

“We can consider employing Arad after this mission is complete. Besides, this task is far too dangerous. There isn’t even a special-grade mount to carry him,” another knight remarked.

“You’re all correct,” Arina nodded in agreement.

“However, there’s one more peculiar thing about Arad,” another knight added.

“Peculiar?”

“He’s been buying an unusual amount of mana stones—particularly low-grade ones.”

Arina tilted her head in curiosity. “I’ve heard that mana stone powder can be used in medicine…”

“Come to think of it, Arad is skilled in healing, isn’t he?”

“Very skilled. I heard he once treated a severe open fracture with only herbs and stitches, no potions.”

“Truly remarkable. And yet, he’s focused on cooking.”

“Well, thanks to that, we have Arad’s Salt.”

Arad’s exceptional healing abilities were well-known, but the overwhelming success of his culinary creations overshadowed them. Few people asked for his medical help, especially since his status as an honorary baron backed by the Grand Duchess made him less accessible.

Moreover, Haven had other healers besides Arad.

“Even if mana stone powder is used in medicine, he wouldn’t need such a large quantity,” one knight noted.

Indeed, the amount of mana stones Arad was purchasing far exceeded what could be justified for medicinal purposes alone. This led to one conclusion: Arad had yet another skill beyond cooking and healing.