The ages of those attending my art lecture were quite varied.

There were elderly participants, middle-aged attendees, and young people as well.

Nearly twenty of the attendees were women, occupying a significant portion of the room.

The one thing they all had in common? They were the best painters in their respective towns, at the very least.

"No amount of explaining will help if you don’t practice. The only way to improve is to draw a lot," I said, unfazed by the confused expressions of some students. After all, the first group of students had been the same.

"Here you go. Brushes, paints, and canvases. Use as much as you like, as always."

The previously blank looks in their eyes suddenly sparkled when they saw the free supplies being distributed.

For people who had only ever used graphite to draw on leather or wooden boards, or chisels to carve into wood or stone, this opportunity was rare indeed.

"If you run into any problems while drawing, feel free to ask me. For now, don’t worry about my status."

In the middle of the classroom, my paintings were displayed as teaching materials.

There were four in total: two additional portraits of Arina created since that day, and two recent works depicting Balzac, Sunn, and other high-ranking knights.

The students practiced by choosing one of these paintings and attempting to replicate it.

"It’s a shame printing technology hasn’t advanced enough yet; this is the best method for now," I thought, observing the students engrossed in their work.

What had started as a hobby and a bit of meddling on my part had grown into something far larger.

It had transcended mere monetary or artistic value.

It had become an immense tool for public relations.

"Merchandise for the Northern Grand Duchy? Fandoms? Selling photo cards? Who would’ve thought!"

Incidentally, the "photo cards" in question were the character portraits of Arina and the Northern knights the students were diligently reproducing.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t just Arina who was popular across the continent. Figures like Balzac and Sunn, the Northern knights, were also quite admired.

Even the Imperials, who looked down on Northerners as barbarians, acknowledged the strength of the Northern knights.

"The sentiment might not match the originals I painted, but it can’t be helped. I can’t spend all my time on this."

The printing technology in this world was still rudimentary, barely capable of producing simple text.

It lagged behind even Gutenberg’s press in performance and precision, making it impossible to replicate the fine details of my paintings.

Not to mention, paper itself was a luxury here.

"I’ll need to invest time in advancing printing and paper production someday…"

Of course, I could create a Gutenberg-style press even now.

But I was holding off for a reason.

"What good would advanced printing technology do when paper is still rare and literacy rates are low in the North?"

Rapid technological and economic advancements could cause problems. The pace of progress needed to match the consciousness and cultural development of the Northern people.

Thus, I planned to implement these improvements only after expanding literacy and preparing for mass paper production.

"Boss, I’m finished," came Mary’s voice from behind me.

"Oh?"

I turned to inspect the sheets she handed me.

"As always, they’re identical."

The papers Mary handed over were high-quality stationery, each bearing the Northern Grand Duke Arina’s signature and a short message.

"Wishing prosperity to the esteemed scholar of the Empire’s western region, Viscount Longos. - Arina Rune Renslett, Grand Duke of the North."

These signatures were to be included with Northern Grand Duchy merchandise.

Of course, Arina hadn’t written them herself—Mary had forged them.

Being her sister, Mary’s handwriting was naturally similar to Arina’s. With a bit of practice, she’d managed to make it indistinguishable.

"Still, is this really okay?"

"It’s fine. Her Grace approved it."

"That’s not what I mean… This is the Grand Duke’s signature. If it gets circulated…"

"What’s the problem? Official documents require the ducal seal anyway."

"Well, that’s true, but…"

"Besides, didn’t we ask Her Grace to create a new signature specifically for this purpose?"

"…"

Mary still seemed uneasy, not yet accustomed to Earth-style promotional strategies.

"What about the other signatures?"

"…Here they are," she said, handing me another sheet with a somewhat conflicted look.

"May the honor of the radiant knight of the Empire’s north-central region, Baron Kindenberg, shine ever brighter. - Balzac Siokan"

This one bore Balzac’s handwriting and signature.

"Did Sir Balzac agree willingly?"

"Surprisingly, he seemed quite pleased about it."

"Ah…"

Behold, the power of capitalism.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say we were selling anything and everything under the name of the Northern Grand Duchy.

We’d practically exhausted the possibilities for merchandise, save for tourism products.

Wait… we do have the chimera automail tourism package.

Correction: even the tourism sector was thriving.

"This is what you’d call small-batch, high-quality production. A tailored luxury business, so to speak. Honestly, this is where the profit margins are highest," I remarked.

Merchandise from the Northern Grand Duchy was targeted at nobles and wealthy commoners, making handcrafted goods more fitting than mass-produced items.

This was why I hadn’t opted for factory-style division of labor.

"Her Grace is truly brilliant. To think of leveraging portraits for profit like this!" I said enthusiastically to Mary.

After all, it had been Arina’s command to find a way to mass-produce and sell her portraits that had set all this in motion.

"…Indeed," Mary replied, her voice tinged with a peculiar regret as she wore a faintly self-deprecating expression.

"It must bother her to be imitating Her Grace’s handwriting," I thought.

Such a pious woman.

Seeing her like this left me feeling a little moved.

***

Throughout the industrial complex, portraits of the Northern Grand Duke, Arina, adorned the walls.

In the portraits, Arina showcased a variety of outfits and atmospheres.

Sometimes she appeared as a noble lady knight, exuding dignity, and at other times as a graceful beauty of the snowy plains.

While I had painted some of the portraits, most of them were the works of the academy’s student painters, and their quality was surprisingly decent.

In certain aspects, they even captured the essence of the North better than I did.

"Displaying portraits of the sovereign like this should work well for fostering loyalty, right?"

As my company grew more successful, envy from others was bound to increase. Even in the North, complacency was not an option.

It was essential to build loyalty in advance for any unexpected "tests of allegiance" that might arise.

After all, in some countries on Earth, wasn’t it customary to hang portraits of presidents or monarchs in homes or public institutions?

After finishing the lecture, Mary and I admired the portraits of Arina hanging around the industrial complex as we made our way to Factory No. 1.

"How’s the paint production going?"

"Smoothly. Actually, it’s been a relief. Factory No. 1 has seen a significant drop in workload recently, so this came at just the right time," Mary replied.

The interior of Factory No. 1, which had been dedicated to producing chimera automail, had undergone some changes.

While the automail production line was still present, it now occupied a smaller section, with the larger portion devoted to paint manufacturing.

"Even with the Bishop Company supplying clients, the demand hasn’t been substantial," Mary remarked, gazing at the alchemical production lines, which had tripled in size.

"It worked out well, didn’t it? In a way, this is thanks to Her Grace’s foresight."

"…Indeed," she agreed.

By now, most of the physically disabled Northerners had been treated.

The bulk of production was now geared toward clients outside the North, but finding affluent, determined customers willing to travel discreetly to the North was no easy task.

Particularly among the aristocracy, not many had the wealth, leisure, and defiance of church pressures required to seek such procedures.

As a result, Factory No. 1 had been operating at half capacity, with a portion of its workforce reassigned to porcelain production in Factories No. 2, 3, and 4.

The introduction of Northern Grand Duchy merchandise, however, had revitalized Factory No. 1.

"It seems Factory No. 1 can continue to serve as a chemical plant moving forward."

Walking through the factory, I observed workers blending various mana stone powders, minerals, and herbs to create paint.

Unlike Earth, where there was no mana, the presence of magic and mana in this world significantly enhanced the effectiveness of alchemy.

In this world, alchemy paralleled the role of chemistry on Earth.

"Let’s go."

"Yes," Mary replied.

After completing the factory inspection, Mary and I headed toward the office.

"Boss! So, this is where you were!"

Just then, Section Chief Te entered the factory, spotted me, and hurried over.

"Chief Te, did you wrap up the discussions with the Rune Company?" I asked, welcoming him.

He had just returned from negotiating with the Rune Company’s executives regarding the distribution of Northern Grand Duchy merchandise.

"The discussions went well. However…"

Te nodded, then glanced around before leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"All of a sudden?"

Hearing his report, my eyes widened in surprise.

***

In front of my office within the industrial complex, a group of visitors was waiting.

"Lord Gard! How was your mission as an envoy? Did everything go smoothly?"

"Ah, Count Jin!"

"Ahem! It’s been a while, President Jin."

"Likewise, it’s been a while, Bishop President. It’s unexpected, but I’m glad to see you here."

Gard, the leader of the Northern envoy and the head of the Rune Company, along with Entir Bishop, who had been actively expanding his influence in the Empire, were standing there.

"So, what brings you here? If you’ve come to the Stronghold, shouldn’t you have sought an audience with Her Grace first?"

I asked, curious about their sudden appearance at the complex without any prior notice.

"When we requested an audience with Her Grace, she instructed us to first discuss matters with you here at the complex," Gard replied with a smile.

"Is that so?"

It was a bit surprising, but not entirely unreasonable.

Much of the discussion in the Northern Stronghold inevitably involved my company, so it made sense to sort things out in advance. After all, the Grand Duke wasn’t someone anyone could just meet on a whim.

"And what brings you here, Lord Entir?"

After exchanging brief pleasantries with Gard, I shifted my attention to Entir Bishop.

"Well, you see…"

Entir began to speak, but before he could continue, a loud exclamation came from behind him.

"Are you kidding me? People are actually buying this?!"

"Unbelievable."

It was Carpe, the mercenary king with her striking red hair, accompanied by her Red Wolf mercenaries.

In the original timeline, they would have caused trouble at the Great Barrier and sought asylum in the Kingdoms’ Union.

I had managed to recruit them at just the right moment—perhaps my luck stat had extended all the way to the eastern reaches of the Empire.

"This has to be some kind of mistake. No matter how much money they have, who spends gold coins on a portrait of that old man?!"

Carpe was gaping at a portrait of Balzac displayed in the hallway leading to my office.

"Am I right, guys? Who in their right mind would pay money for something like this—"

"Ooooh! It even includes Sir Balzac’s handwritten signature!"

"Should I buy it? Damn it, should I just go for it?"

"They’ve got a portrait of Sunn of the Northern Ice Wall too!"

"Whoa, holy crap! Her Grace’s portrait is stunning!"

"It’s ridiculously expensive, but I still kind of want to buy it."

Meanwhile, the Red Wolves were admiring the portraits of Balzac, Sunn, and Arina with starry-eyed enthusiasm.

"…So the fools willing to pay for this are standing right here," Carpe muttered, utterly exasperated as she watched her subordinates.

For the record, Carpe currently sported her natural red hair and blue eyes, which seemed more fitting for the Northern region.

"My apologies. These mercenaries are skilled, but they lack proper refinement and culture…" Entir said, tightly shutting his eyes in embarrassment as he offered me an apology.

"Hahaha…"

Gard, who had accompanied Entir to the Stronghold, could only let out an awkward laugh.

"Let’s move this conversation inside. Chief Te, keep an eye on the mercenaries while we’re talking."

With that, I ushered Gard and Entir into my office.

***

As we entered the office, Entir couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the mana stones embedded in the ceiling and asked,

"Would you consider selling those mana stones that heat the space and illuminate the interior?"

Thanks to the fire-attribute mana stones that I and the witches had crafted during our spare time, the office was warm and cozy.

Additionally, the light-attribute mana stones installed throughout the room ensured it was brightly lit, even in the dim conditions of the northern region.

"Doesn’t the Empire’s Mage Tower produce and sell similar items?"

"They do, but they’re sold in such small quantities at exorbitant prices."

Not only in the Empire but also in other kingdoms, mages used mana stones to craft similar magical tools for personal use.

The issue was that the pride of mages made mass production nearly impossible.

"That’s the same issue here."

"How can you say that? Don’t the witches work in your factories?"

"It takes considerable effort to get those witches to work. The academy wasn’t established just for show, you know."

I explained once again that even the Northern supply was insufficient to meet demand, so it wasn’t feasible for now. Yet every time we met, Entir would bring it up.

Sigh.

"How about some tea?"

I handed Entir a cup of tea to soothe him.