“What are you supposed to feel while walking?”
Isabelle’s sudden question left me tilting my head in confusion.
“Pardon?”
“No, it’s nothing. It’s perfectly normal for an ordinary person. In a way, that’s a relief.”
She nodded to herself, saying something cryptic.
‘An ordinary person? Does she still think I’m some undercover Imperial spy pretending to be weak?’
It seemed she had been testing me during our brief conversation.
“The reason I called Sir Arad here is to show you something.”
Isabelle didn’t stall any longer and got straight to the point.
“Girls~!”“Yes!”
Tap! Tap! Tap!
At her signal, the witches, who had been walking at a slight distance, tapped their brooms on the ground.
[Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo.]
Earth spirits under the witches’ control let out eerie chuckles as they began to dig into the soil.
Rumble!
The ground, about the size of a small yard, cracked open, revealing soil from deep underground.
“Take a look at this soil.”
Before Isabelle even finished speaking, I bent down to inspect it.
The knowledge and instincts of my MAX-level farming skill kicked in.
“This is…”
It didn’t take long for me to understand why the witches had gone to the trouble of unearthing this soil for me.
“The fertility is poor.”
Even though the North was harshly cold, its soil was typically enriched by the influence of magic stone mines, which allowed weeds to flourish despite the extreme conditions.
“Is it just this area?”
“So far, only the land around the High Tower is like this.”
“So far?”
“Yes, but it’s worsening every year, spreading further.”
However, the soil around the High Tower was now in poor condition.
For the time being, it was still fertile enough to allow weeds to grow, giving the locals something to harvest. But in about fifty years, this area would likely turn into a barren wasteland where not even weeds could thrive.
“What do the spirits say about this?”
“They refuse to explain. Or rather, they seem reluctant to talk about it.”
“Could it be the work of dark sorcerers from the Demon’s Realm?”
“We suspect the Empire is behind it.”
“Empire or Demon’s Realm—it’s all the same, isn’t it?”
“Precisely. Especially after the recent events in the Magic Abyss.”
“Hmm… I’ll need to research this further.”
I said as I scooped up some soil.
In the back of my mind, I was already connecting this to a catastrophic event from the original timeline.
‘The Great Northern Famine! This is the warning sign.’
The timing matched almost perfectly.
Still, I couldn’t immediately pin this on an Imperial scheme. For now, I chose to remain neutral.
“Does Her Highness know about this?”
As I filled a wooden box with soil, I asked Isabelle.
“Of course. It’s one of our biggest concerns.”
Surprisingly, the answer didn’t come from Isabelle but from a familiar voice behind me.
Turning, I saw Arina, the Grand Duchess of the North, approaching with her entourage of maids, knights, and officials in tow.
***
Meanwhile, in Goit, Capital of the Ragroit Empire
An emissary delegation from the Northern Grand Duchy of Renslet had arrived after a long hiatus.
Despite their visit, the Renslet delegation met with the Crown Prince, Canbraman, in great secrecy.
“What a shame… the Grand Duchess was almost in grave danger, wasn’t she?”
“Indeed, Your Highness.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Is the Empire uninvolved in this matter?”
“Of course, Count Gard. It was merely the folly of some unruly Imperial adventurers.”
Canbraman’s calm response echoed through the audience chamber.
Grit…
The grinding of teeth from the Renslet delegation was loud enough to be heard.
Whistle… Whistle…
Though their reaction was incredibly rude, Canbraman, burdened by a guilty conscience, pretended not to notice.
The audience proceeded exactly as both sides had expected.
“The level of Imperial adventurers must be quite high these days. Maintaining a space-twisting barrier for nearly two weeks would cost the annual budget of an average marquisate.”
The Northern delegation subtly jabbed at the Empire. But as direct and practical as Northerners were known to be, their remarks bordered on outright accusations.
“It seems those rogues conspired with dark sorcerers from the Demon’s Realm to perform some forbidden magic. I’ll make sure the Imperial adventurers are given a stern warning.”
The Crown Prince maintained his feigned ignorance, well aware of the Northerners’ straightforward nature.
‘But what’s with those bags at their waists? I’ve never seen that design before. The entire delegation has similar ones.’
As the conversation continued, Canbraman’s attention was drawn to the bags the Northern delegation carried.
The unfamiliar yet captivating design stood out, even in the Imperial court.
‘Is this really something that came out of the North, a land known only for survival and battle?’
“By the way, are Imperial adventurers now carrying top-tier potions usually reserved for the royal family?”
Oblivious to Canbraman’s interest in their bags, Count Gard continued his pointed remarks.
“In the North, potions are incredibly rare due to the lack of official church presence. Unfortunately, the clergy can’t be dispatched because they fear the witches in the North.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Truly unfortunate. While the royal family has no involvement in the recent incidents, as the Empire’s rulers, we feel some moral responsibility.”
How long this exchange of veiled threats and accusations lasted was anyone’s guess.
“To express our sympathies, we will send two chests of gold coins along with some top-tier potions to the Grand Duchess. May she recover quickly from her injuries.”
Growing weary, Canbraman offered a monetary settlement to end the conversation.
“Our Grand Duchess also desires reduced prices for wheat, rye, silk, and fabrics—at least 30% below the current market rate. Additionally, she wishes to increase the price of magic stones from the North by 20%. Frankly… they’ve been far too cheap.”
The Renslet delegation’s eyes gleamed as they added their own demands.
“Hmm…”
Canbraman’s crimson eyes turned cold at their boldness.
“That’s a bit excessive.”
“Excessive? What will happen if news of this unfortunate incident spreads across the North? The enraged Northerners might flood into the Empire’s mid-northern territories, causing widespread chaos. The Grand Duchess and I are deeply concerned about such an outcome. Surely feeding them well would help calm their spirits, wouldn’t it?”
Count Gard’s thinly veiled threat hinted at large-scale raids rather than outright war.
“How dare you—!”
Unable to contain his anger, a court noble reached for his sword.
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