“He didn’t seem like a mage,” Arina murmured, recalling Arad working in Jack’s Inn as a chef.

“No, he’s definitely not a mage,” a knight affirmed.

“Correct. While he has some magical energy in his body, it’s nowhere near the level of a proper mage,” another added.

“At best, if he studied magic, he might manage to conjure a fireball the size of a finger,” someone chimed in.

“With that amount of magic, he’d be better off learning swordsmanship, especially when combined with his dexterity,” another knight concluded.

The surrounding knights unanimously evaluated Arad’s potential, each offering their own perspective.

“Balzac, can I see the list of items he’s been purchasing?” Arina asked, driven by curiosity.

“Here it is,” Balzac replied promptly, handing over a document.

The paper detailed the numerous goods Arad had bought from Haven’s merchant guilds and adventurer markets, including several peculiar items.

“…”

Arina scanned the list, her brows furrowing as she read.

Some of these items are restricted goods. According to the law, individuals aren’t even allowed to purchase this many mana stones.

The detailed list grated slightly against her principles, which valued order and proper procedure. Clearly, the local guards and officials had turned a blind eye, likely due to Arad’s influence.

The power of free stew… Could he have planned this?

After scrutinizing the list for a few seconds longer, Arina placed it down with a resigned sigh.

I’ll let it slide.

While she usually upheld strict standards, she decided to show a bit of flexibility this time. After all, the items weren’t particularly problematic, and Arad had demonstrated loyalty by both creating Arad’s Salt and expressing a desire to serve her.

“What could he be planning?” she wondered aloud.

“Whatever it is, I hope it’s something as groundbreaking as Arad’s Salt,” a knight said, half-jokingly.

“Shall we leave him to his own devices for now?” another asked.

“For now, yes. Right now, the necromancer in the Abyss is more important,” Arina decided.

And so, without Arad ever realizing, a potential threat passed him by.

 

The meeting at Polly’s Inn gradually moved toward its conclusion.

“As a precaution, summon reserves in High Castle and Haven. Order silver plating for the weapons,” Arina commanded, her tone resolute.

The main strategy had already been determined, and the current discussion focused on finalizing smaller, supplementary plans.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the knights responded.

“Good. We’ll depart for Haven after inspecting its defensive preparations and ensuring the reinforcements are ready,” Arina continued.

The troops being mobilized in High Castle and Haven were intended as a reserve force in case of unforeseen complications.

“Of all times, why does this have to happen when Sun’s Legion is out on a campaign?” a knight murmured in frustration.

Sun’s Legion, Renslet’s main force, was currently engaged in subjugating the Northern orcs and barbarian tribes.

“Even if Sun’s Frostshield Legion were here, it wouldn’t change our strategy, Sir Logi,” Arina replied, shaking her head.

“Numbers mean little against a necromancer.”

The task of dealing with the necromancer fell solely to the Grand Duchess and her elite knights. A necromancer, a black magician capable of controlling corpses, was best dealt with through a swift and covert operation. Bringing a large army would only serve to bolster the necromancer’s forces.

“Your Grace, wouldn’t it be better to remain in Haven with the reinforcements?” Balzac, the seasoned knight, cautiously suggested.

“This isn’t an ordinary hunt in the Abyss. It’s extremely dangerous.”

As expected, Arina rejected his proposal.

“If I start making excuses to avoid danger, it will never end. Fear spreads quickly, and it would only weaken the North’s resolve and unity.”

“But… if something were to happen to Your Grace, the Renslet line would end. Without an heir, the North would fall directly under the Empire’s control,” Balzac protested.

The North’s precarious situation was undeniable. With no successor in place and the previous Grand Duke, Baikal, having died in battle, Arina’s safety was a matter of utmost importance.

“Precisely because it’s dangerous, I must go. I am not just a Grand Duchess; I am a knight and a Sword Master. My presence increases the chances of success,” Arina replied firmly.

Balzac’s reasoning faltered in the face of Arina’s unwavering sense of duty, rooted in her identity as both a ruler and a warrior.

“Hmm…”

“Her Grace has a point. With two Sword Masters, no mission is impossible,” another knight remarked, reluctantly agreeing.

Arina’s skills as the youngest unofficial Sword Master were undeniable, having already surpassed her late father’s abilities.

“I was already frustrated and regretful about not joining the Northern expedition. This gives me a chance to make up for it,” Arina added, hinting at her own internal struggle.

“…”

“…”

In the end, Balzac and the knights gave up trying to dissuade her, exchanging silent shrugs of resignation.

“Well then… if I may, Your Grace,” another knight, Sir Eote, hesitantly spoke up.

“Speak, Sir Eote.”

“If I may suggest, could we bring the witches of High Castle with us? Their elemental magic would prove invaluable in the Abyss, and their curse-breaking rituals could counter the necromancer’s dark magic.”

“It’s almost spring. I don’t think borrowing the witches’ assistance is wise, Sir Eote,” Doyle interjected immediately, voicing his concerns.

“That’s right. The witches are busy. Besides, they’re not accustomed to combat magic. Ordinary witches wouldn’t even survive in the Abyss,” Arina agreed, echoing Doyle’s concerns.

“The Grand Witch of Spring, however, would be useful in battle,” Sir Eote persisted, offering his suggestion once again.

“If we summon her now… the operation of the greenhouse farms will be severely impacted. At least 10,000 people in High Castle would face starvation,” Arina responded firmly, shaking her head.

“…”

“Don’t worry. I will not die, and neither will you,” she declared resolutely.

This was the unyielding noblesse oblige of Renslet—steadfast to the point of obstinance.

“Our ability to defend the North from barbarians, monsters, and orcs comes from the unity between rulers and soldiers, from the lowest foot soldiers to the Grand Duchess herself, all fighting together on the battlefield.”

Ironically, this tradition of the ruling class fighting alongside the common soldiers was what had enabled the North to endure its endless battles against overwhelming odds.

“Even if I were to die, the North would not falter. My people are Renslet itself.”

This deep-seated tradition of the ruler leading by example had cemented the loyalty of the Northern people, even in the face of relentless loss. Despite countless husbands, fathers, and sons perishing in battle, the people's faith in Renslet never wavered.

Of course, had Arad, with his knowledge of the original history, been there to witness this, he would have shaken his head in exasperation.

 

Meanwhile, I continued to modify the carriage and craft all sorts of magical tools while keeping an ear out for news from outside.

They haven’t left Haven yet?

My primary focus remained on the Grand Duchess and her knights, who were staying at Polly’s Inn. Despite initially appearing ready to depart, they were still in Haven, busy inspecting the city’s defenses and fortifications.

Something must have happened in the Abyss… but it’s quiet.

My secondary concern was the Abyss itself. However, it was eerily silent. Information gathered from the Adventurer’s Guild and recently returned adventurers revealed no unusual activity.

The history of the North is so riddled with gaps due to the Empire’s erasure of records. Especially the records of Arina, the Grand Duchess of Renslet. Aside from oral traditions, there’s practically nothing.

My supposed advantage of knowing future events 100 years from now was proving almost useless. I had no clue what was unfolding in the Abyss at this point in time.

While gathering information here and there, I focused on crafting magical tools and upgrading my carriage with the skills and resources at my disposal.

Then, one day, while I was at Jack’s Inn instead of the warehouse, a surprise visit occurred.

“There you are.”

The Grand Duchess and her knights, concealed in robes and hoods, entered the inn.

“It’s been a while. I thought you had already left Haven,” I said, feigning ignorance as I welcomed them.

Despite their readiness to depart, it seemed they had decided to stop by one last time.

“We were craving your food before we left,” Balzac explained on behalf of the group.

“Will this be your last time in Haven?”

“We’ll likely stop by briefly after completing our mission. But by then, you might no longer be here,” Balzac replied.

It was clear they knew about my recent activities.

“Well, do come to High Castle in spring. You should officially accept your title, even if it’s only honorary. It’s better than nothing,” Balzac added.

“I will keep that in mind,” I replied, bowing slightly while subtly glancing at Arina, who stood quietly behind him.

“Then, let’s have a meal,” Balzac requested.

“Right away.”

Donning an apron, I returned to the kitchen and prepared what might be my final omakase-style feast in Haven. Unlike before, I no longer showed any interest in joining their journey.

It’s too late now. I’ve already set too many plans in motion.

At the carriage depot, my ambitious project—into which I had poured a significant portion of my resources—was nearing completion.

Besides, their party prioritizes mobility and combat efficiency. I don’t have a premium-grade mount that could run through the Abyss.

Even if I joined them, I would likely be more of a hindrance than a help.

After the meal, Balzac approached me to say goodbye on behalf of the knights.

“That was excellent! I’ll be thinking about this meal for a long time.”

“It’s an honor,” I replied.

I had intended to offer the meal for free as a farewell gift, but Balzac insisted on paying me with silver coins.

“This is a small gift from me,” I said, handing Balzac a leather pouch.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining the finely crafted pouch that immediately caught everyone’s attention.

“It’s filled with Arad’s Salt,” I explained.

“Ohhh… Thank you!” Balzac and the knights smiled brightly as they received the gift.

“What about this pouch? Where did you get it?” one of the knights asked, their interest shifting from the salt to the pouch itself.

“I made it myself.”

“You’re not just a great chef—you’re incredibly skilled with your hands,” another knight remarked.

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

“I owe you much for all you’ve done.”

“?!”

To my surprise, Arina stepped forward, her hand extended. Her gesture was one of gratitude, as she thanked me for everything I had done.

“…”

I froze momentarily, staring at her outstretched hand and the face obscured beneath her hood. Even the knights seemed slightly taken aback by her unexpected gesture.

“I am Iria, a humble knight of High Castle,” she said, introducing herself with her alias.

“I am Arad Jin,” I replied, cautiously shaking her calloused yet warm hand while bowing my head.

That afternoon, Arina and her knights left Haven. I stood at the city gate, watching them disappear into the distance before turning toward my warehouse.

Three days later, I too departed Haven, pulling my modified carriage behind me.