Even though my horseback riding skill was maxed out, compared to knights who had spent their entire lives fighting on horseback, I was nothing more than an amateur.

Just as basic swimming in the military is called combat swimming, horseback riding for knights was essentially combat riding. In fact, in the game, there was a combat riding skill called Charging.

In any case, my Golden Carriage met the combat riding of these knights.

Chaaaarging—!!

Uoooooh!!

Neiiigh!!

We were essentially reenacting Mad Max on the snowy plains of the Abyss.

Before I knew it, we had arrived in Haven.

"Wait, is that the Golden Carriage?!"

"I know it! That’s the carriage Arad took to the Abyss!"

"Is that the coachman and knight from High Castle riding it?"

"Hey, hey, it doesn’t look like they’re stopping!"

"What should we do?"

"What else?! They’re not strangers; they’re important people! Just open the gates!"

Thanks to the quick-witted guards in Haven, we passed through without stopping and continued heading north.

Starting from Haven, we sped through Schwen, Narvik, and Remm, finally arriving at High Castle.

"You’ll stay in the guest quarters for now. If you need anything, speak up immediately."

"But don’t wander around recklessly."

"It feels a bit rude to say this to a guest we’ve invited, but… the atmosphere around here might feel grim for the next few days."

After reaching High Castle, Balzac, Eothe, Logi, and Karrot entrusted Arina to Isabelle, the Spring Witch, and began their grim duty of purging traitors with steely resolve.

As a result, Renslet Castle’s atmosphere was chaotic and tense.

The scent of blood lingered in the air as I walked through the castle, and traces of blood not yet cleaned up could still be seen in various corners.

It was on the second day after arriving at High Castle.

"Seriously! Muscle-brained knights! How could they leave the benefactor of the North neglected like this?!"

I was debating whether to just run off without waiting for a reward when—

"Greetings, Arad Jin, soon-to-be Honorary Baron. I’m Isabelle, the housekeeper of High Castle. Oh, and thank you so much for saving our Grand Duchess."

A witch who introduced herself as Isabelle, the Spring Witch, came to see me.

And then, two days later.

"Arad! What kind of dish can you make with this mandrake root?"

"Oh, that… it’s great for boiling with chicken and various medicinal herbs."

"Is it good?"

"Especially for men’s stamina."

"Ha ha ha ha ha! The knights are going to lose their minds over this!"

Covered in dirt and mud, I was deeply engrossed in farming at the southern outskirts of High Castle, working with the witches of the North, who were now said to be the only ones of their kind left on the continent.

"Arad~! What can this root be used for?"

"This is more suited for alchemy than cooking. Want me to teach you the combination ritual?"

"Uh... no, no thanks! It’s fine!"

"…? Alright then."

I’d tried sharing some magical knowledge with them a few times, but they seemed to refuse or evade it due to their own sense of pride—or so I guessed.

Respecting their pride and magical prowess, I let the matter go.

It’s so warm here...

The witches’ magical skill was evident, even from the environment I was standing in.

This greenhouse farm is impressive.

Despite it still being spring in the perpetually cold North, this place felt warm.

Having spent so much time in the chilly northern air, the hot and humid atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant.

Of course, even in the Joseon Dynasty, there were similar greenhouses, so this isn’t strange. Especially in a world with magic.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I surveyed the farm.

This massive greenhouse… now I see how the North managed to survive without Imperial support.

The size of the medieval-style greenhouse farm was staggering, as expected in a magical world.

A faintly glowing magic circle hovered in the air above the farm, adjusting the temperature and humidity as part of a large-scale magical barrier.

Between the sky and the ground, spirits summoned by the witches flitted about.

While it wasn’t as vast as the cornfields in America, for the North—a region perpetually short on food—this farm of wheat, barley, potatoes, and fruits was a veritable oasis.

At the very least, it seemed capable of feeding the people of High Castle and the soldiers guarding the extreme northern wall.

There was nothing like this in Silver Age 1. The Empire must have intentionally destroyed it.

Had this farm been maintained, the North wouldn’t have suffered such catastrophic famine during the great starvation that was to come.

After the disappearance of the Grand Duchess, the witches joined the Northern Resistance with the Winter Witch. But where is Mary, the Winter Witch? I don’t see anyone here who resembles her future self.

As I mused over the original timeline of the North, the witches crept closer to me and asked.

"Arad~! Arad~! Can we check out the Golden Carriage after work?"

Despite their apparent pride (or so I assumed), which made them avoid magical teachings, they were immensely curious about the magical items I had created.

"Of course."

When I agreed, the younger witches clung to my arms on both sides and cheered.

"Kyaaa!!"

"Thank you!"

"Arad, you’re the best!"

The scents of earth and herbs wafted from the witches, carried by their spirits, filling my nose. At the same time, I could feel the softness and warmth of their bodies pressing against me.

Is this heaven?

Yes! If I’m going to live in another world, I might as well enjoy clichés like this.

I was particularly popular among the witches at High Castle.

My development of Arad’s Salt, along with the Golden Carriage, had thoroughly piqued their curiosity.

From young witches to middle-aged ones and even elderly crones, they all treated me with warmth and goodwill.

Thanks to that, life at High Castle had become quite enjoyable lately.

"Hey, everyone! Breaking news! Breaking news!"

Just then, a witch wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a robe came flying in, yelling excitedly as she rode her broomstick through the air.

"The Grand Duchess has woken up!"

The witch looked absolutely delighted to be the first to deliver the news.

"Oh my...!"

As the witch who had arrived on her broomstick saw me and the other witches still clinging to my arms, she covered her mouth with her hands.

"……? Eek!"

Her face turned pale as her gaze moved past me and the witches, focusing on something—or someone—behind us.

"Hmm?"

Still caught in the witches' affectionate grasp, I instinctively turned around and immediately stiffened.

Standing there were Arina and Isabelle.

"Hohohoho…."

Isabelle wore a smile, but her eyes betrayed no amusement.

"……."

Next to her, Arina stood silently with a somber expression.

Life in the North is a constant struggle, and as such, the elite soldiers of High Castle are as skilled as most knights of other nations.

The knights leading these soldiers are comparable to high-ranking knights of any kingdom.

And the senior knights of Renslet, who command these northern knights, are so formidable that even a gathering of all the Imperial knights wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

…However, there exists someone before whom even these proud knights dare not move.

"……."

"Um… Your Grace? Are you feeling unwell?"

"Are your injuries not fully healed?"

"My injuries are fine."

That person is none other than the Northern Grand Duchess, Arina Rune Renslet.

Despite her injuries and the reset of her dantian following Doyle’s betrayal, none of the senior knights gathered in the council room dared to underestimate her.

After all, hadn’t Arad spoken, and Isabelle confirmed it? The mana core that would form in her newly restored dantian would be far stronger than her previous one.

And who is Arina? A prodigy among prodigies. Though the Empire kept it under wraps, she was unofficially the youngest Sword Master in the history of the continent.

She was also the first Sword Master to emerge from the Renslet lineage since Rune Renslet, the founder of the duchy.

This meant that the continent might see the birth of its first Grand Sword Master since the Golden Age.

"So then… who dared upset Your Grace?"

"Your complexion hasn’t looked good since earlier."

The knights’ loyalty had only grown stronger, to the point that even the slightest disturbance to their duchess’s mood caused them to react immediately.

"Just say the word!"

"Who is it? I’ll rip their head off right now!"

"No, it’s nothing," Arina said, shaking her head.

However, her reticence only heightened their suspicion.

"……."

Suddenly, Arina glanced sideways at Arad, who was seated beside her.

"Hmm?"

As their eyes met, Arina quickly turned her gaze away, almost flinching.

"……!"

The senior knights, noticing this, felt a chill run down their spines as they deduced the source of Arina’s discomfort.

Four of the senior knights present—Balzac, Karrot, Eothe, and Logi—owed their lives to Arad. The other knights had heard countless tales of his exploits in the Abyss.

"Sir… What exactly did you do to Her Grace?"

"I didn’t do anything."

"I’d prefer not to kill you, but…"

"……?"

Veteran knight Balzac muttered in a troubled voice, leaning slightly toward Arad.

"Did you perhaps… spy on Her Grace while she was bathing?"

"No matter how much I respect you, even I can’t overlook that."

"Whatever it is, you’d best resolve it quickly and amicably with Her Grace."

Following Balzac, Eothe, Logi, and Karrot offered similarly "helpful" advice to Arad.

Had it been anyone else in his position, they would’ve had their fingernails ripped out on the spot.

Fortunately, the interrogation of Arad didn’t even begin.

"Focus on the meeting," Arina commanded, breaking the tense atmosphere.

The knights and officials, taking their cue, immediately quieted down.

"Begin with the purge report."

"Yes! First, I’ll report the interrogation results regarding the traitor Doyle Bowden’s family and acquaintances."

"If it’s Doyle’s personal betrayal, avoid extending punishment to his entire family. The Bowden family has served Renslet faithfully for generations."

"That’s… unfortunate, but…"

"As expected… so it’s true?"

Hearing the report from the Frostblade Ghosts, Arina’s eyes grew somber.

"Please, Your Grace, allow me to end my life! Such a betrayal within the Frostblade Ghosts is unforgivable!"

"Enough. This matter has already been discussed with Grandmother. You will atone for your sins through responsibility and resolution."

"Your Grace is most merciful!"

"Next, let’s hear about the rats that have infiltrated High Castle."

"I will report on that, Your Grace."

This time, a bureaucrat, rather than a knight, began to speak.

"Two attendants and four maids are currently being interrogated in the dungeon. Additionally, 37 other individuals, including servants, tradesmen, and officials, have been detained and are under investigation."

"It seems we were too complacent."

"Please, Your Grace, let me die to atone!"

"Enough. You will atone through responsibility and resolution."

From the start, the heavy topics made the atmosphere of the meeting grim.

"……."

Attending such a meeting for the first time, Arad simply rolled his eyes, awkwardly silent as he took it all in.