"Fantasy worlds are such cheats. A single fertilizer can accomplish this much."

The North’s magical fertilizer—no, the sacred Mary’s Blessing—had proven its effects in less than a week. The growth speed, health, and yield of crops were beyond imagination.

But it’s the potatoes that are the real game-changer. With this fertilizer, we can now grow potatoes in almost any part of the North.

Mary’s Blessing shone especially in combating the North’s biggest obstacle: the cold.

Potatoes, in particular, stood out. They could now be cultivated even in regions where the freezing temperatures had previously made it impossible.

Although the yields and growth rates in those regions were lower compared to other areas, the mere ability to grow crops where none had grown before was a revolutionary shift.

“Alright, dig here!”

“Load these sacks onto the carriages!”

“Womenfolk, head over there and mix the blessings with the witches!”

The lively shouts of labor echoed all around.

At High Castle’s greenhouse farm, hundreds of selected nearby villagers and adventurers were hard at work, shoveling black soil.

The soil was then taken to a mixing station beside the greenhouse, where it was processed into fertilizer.

Every witch in High Castle was involved in this effort, alongside officials, adventurers, and even women eager to earn extra income.

As payment, workers received a sack of Mary’s Blessing as their daily wage—a commodity so highly sought after that it couldn’t be bought with money anymore.

The vibrant energy of a bustling labor site always made for an engaging sight, which was why I often wandered here under the guise of “supervising.”

It reminded me of the business ventures I used to run back on Earth—a nostalgic, grounding feeling.

And no one found it odd that the fertilizer’s developer, me, was present.

So, the obelisk ended up staying here after all.

While strolling around the greenhouse farm, I stopped in front of the white obelisk still standing at the site.

This obelisk is similar to the 26 black ones we found across the North. They all bore formulas from the Empire’s Tower of Magic, meaning this entire ordeal was orchestrated by the Empire. Not surprising, really.

As I stared at the obelisk, my thoughts turned to the masterminds behind this crisis.

Many Northern nobles cooperated with the Empire, motivated by their disdain for High Castle’s heavy-handed interference in domain taxes and tolls. Fools. Those policies are the only reason this land can survive.

The Empire’s orchestration of this scheme, using disgruntled Northern nobles, had inadvertently given the Frostblade knights an opportunity to prove their loyalty after Doyle’s betrayal.

The Frostblades went on a rampage, thoroughly investigating and dismantling every domain where a black obelisk had been planted.

At this pace, we’ll soon be able to stop worrying about industrial spies, I thought.

This signaled that the North was nearing a point where we could establish proper factories and magical engineering academies.

The prospect was exciting, though it also brought to mind the dark history of the original timeline.

The Great Famine of the North, which wiped out a third of the population.

Was that, too, the Empire’s doing? If so… they’re beyond vile.

While it was just a hypothesis, I was 70% certain that the Empire had orchestrated the famine in the original timeline.

The results spoke for themselves: the capture of High Castle’s greenhouse farms and the use of obelisks left behind by the witches had led directly to the famine’s devastating consequences.

What better way to weaken the defiant, rebellious Northerners who never forgot Renslet and loathed the Empire than to starve them into submission?

“Sir, so this is where you were?”

Lost in thought, I was startled by Mary’s voice.

She had appeared at my side without me noticing, a bright smile on her face.

“Mary, feeling motivated to come to work today?”

“Yes, always grateful for your understanding.”

“Well… much appreciated.”

Mary was a paragon of flexible scheduling, a rarity even back on Earth. Nowadays, her sudden disappearances and reappearances had become so routine that I barely batted an eye.

In truth, it was as if the boss was being trained—or gaslit—by an employee.

To think I have to treat an employee like a noble lord.

Although, to be fair, Mary was a noble. A scion of the ducal Renslet bloodline, destined to become a great witch, even if she was a secret child.

“If not for you, the North might truly have been doomed,” she said suddenly.

“Out of nowhere?”

“It’s not out of nowhere. From Arad Salt to the detector to Mary’s Blessing, nothing you’ve done has been sudden or small.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it like that… but thank you. It’s just luck,” I replied modestly, though her bright smile lifted my spirits.

“But, sir,” she continued.

“Yes?”

“If we keep taking so much black soil, won’t we eventually run out?”

At her concern, I chuckled.

“No need to worry about that,” I said.

“This black soil stretches deep beneath the ground here.”

“But even so, won’t it run out eventually?”

“Do you see those obelisks from the old greenhouse farm? Why do you think we left them in place, even after this crisis was resolved?”

I pointed to the obelisks scattered across the greenhouse farm.

“Instead of removing them, I modified the runes and spells. They no longer warm the area but instead draw fertility and mana exclusively from the permafrost beyond the Great Wall.”

What was once a greenhouse farm was now something entirely different.

The mana previously used to heat the area now nourished the black soil, and the spirits had been reprogrammed to extract both fertility and mana from the frozen wastelands.

“If the black soil ever runs low, we can just bring dirt from anywhere and let it sit here. In five years, it’ll turn into the same black soil.”

Mary’s face brightened as she grasped the implications.

“Then Renslet will never have to worry about food again! No more relying on the Empire for imports!”

She was overjoyed, as if the bright future of Renslet was her own.

She must’ve been raised with a lot of love, even as a secret child. That explains her strong attachment to the family.

Still, I wondered why the Renslet family had gone to such lengths to hide her existence. Being the first second-born in the family’s history should’ve been enough to earn her recognition, even as a secret child.

Shrugging off the thought, I replied to her optimism.

“Less food worries, for now,” I said cautiously.

“For now?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“Yes. With more food, the population will grow.”

“Oh… I see.”

Her eyes turned serious at my words.

“Come to think of it, I heard that one of the most important doctrines in the Renslet Church emphasizes fertility. They say it’s one of the few doctrines you personally insisted on, sir…”

Mary’s comment was sharp, a testament to her familiarity with the latest information. Being a Frostblade-affiliated witch, she likely had access to all the updates.

“That’s right. Handwashing, bathing, literacy, and fertility—these are critical doctrines,” I replied without hesitation.

“But is it necessary to include fertility as a doctrine? People here already have plenty of children…”

Population in Renslet was a double-edged sword. Too few people, and the North struggled; too many, and the strain on food and jobs became unbearable.

The North’s largest export before the advent of Arad Salt was, to the Empire’s derision, its people. Many Northerners still toiled as mercenaries or laborers in the Empire, doing whatever it took to survive.

While reclaiming barren lands with Mary’s Blessing was a promising start, it was only a temporary solution.

“For Renslet to evolve from a border province to a full-fledged kingdom, population growth isn’t just desirable—it’s essential. Including it as a doctrine isn’t excessive; if anything, it’s not enough,” I argued.

“I agree that increasing the population is necessary,” Mary said, her tone cautious. “But the pace of that growth worries me.”

Her concern felt heartfelt, and for a moment, I wondered if Arina had asked Mary to broach the subject.

If that was the case, why hadn’t Arina asked me herself? Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen much of the Grand Duchess lately.

“Do you really think so?” I countered. “Mark my words—there will come a time when even the children being born now won’t be enough, and we’ll have to welcome people from outside.”

“...?!”

Having lived through Earth’s population booms and the challenges of managing them, I knew what was coming.

With the magical-industrial revolution on the horizon, the North would soon face a massive demand for labor. The industries that awaited us were intensely labor-intensive.

And here, child labor wasn’t even illegal. In fact, children were expected to help with farm work as soon as they could walk.

“Do you know the current population of the North—the entire region under High Castle’s influence?” I asked.

“If we include all of the North, the number is roughly one million,” Mary replied.

A million. It could be seen as a lot or a little, depending on the perspective.

No—it’s a lot.

Considering the harsh, unforgiving environment of the North, one million people was an impressive number.

“For reference, the population of High Castle’s ducal territory is just under 50,000,” Mary added. “And that includes the troops stationed along the Great Wall.”

High Castle, the northernmost region of the North, faced the harshest conditions, yet even it boasted a sizable population.

Though 50,000 might seem small for a duchy, given the extreme environment, it was a near-miracle. It also explained High Castle’s desperate reliance on greenhouse farms to feed its people.

“Northmen face fierce winters and monstrous beasts, but taxes are low,” I mused. “There are fewer corrupt officials here than anywhere else on the continent. And above all, the Empire treats all Northerners as barbarians, so they don’t gather in large cities. That’s why so many people live in such an inhospitable land.”

I gathered my thoughts and turned back to Mary.

“How many children does the average Northern woman bear in her lifetime?”

“On average, six,” she replied. “If you account for mothers who die in childbirth, the actual number might be even higher.”

“Six per woman…”

It was an incredible number, one that seemed almost fantastical to someone from a homeland grappling with population decline.

“But despite all those births, most of the children die young, don’t they?” I pressed.

“Yes,” Mary admitted. “About 30% die before they’re even named. Of those who survive naming, many succumb to starvation, cold, monster attacks, or disease. It’s rare for someone to live to old age among the common folk.”

She continued, “Even so, the survival rate is higher than it should be, thanks to the druidic resilience in Northern bloodlines.”

“That makes sense.”

What if the North’s salvation doesn’t end with independence from the Empire?

The question lingered in my mind.

I barely had time to wonder why Mary, supposedly an illegitimate child, was privy to such detailed information about estate management. My thoughts spiraled deeper into what lay ahead.

The North’s salvation… This is shaping up to be a far more long-term project than I expected.

For the first time, I began to suspect that my journey to return to Earth might be far longer than I’d initially anticipated.