Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master

Chapter 38. Northern Faith (3)

The North had long worshipped its ancestral spirits.

Exactly when this indigenous faith began was unclear.

In the distant past, when Northerners were barbarian druids, they worshipped ancestral spirits alongside the forces of nature.

It was thought that this practice might have evolved from reverence for the naturalists of the Golden Age, the ancient forebears of the druids.

Even when the Northerners split from the druids and abandoned their corrupted faith in the White Serpent, they held onto their ancestral spirit worship.

This belief silently but firmly took root in the hearts of the Northern people, like an ancient tree.

Through the fanatical Holy Era, the self-destructive Dark Era, the brutal Age of Barbarism, and into today’s Silver Era, this indigenous faith endured.

However, the faith of the North had a peculiarity: it did not manifest divine power.

From the priests of the Papal State of the United Kingdom, who wielded holy power since the Holy Era, to the Imperial Church clergy—now regarded as heretics—they all employed divine power.

Even in the civilizations of the Southern and Eastern continents, holy power was manifested through various faiths.

And it wasn’t limited to humans. Orc shamans and druid priests, who worshipped the White Serpent, also used divine power.

This suggested that divine power was merely a form of magic, one that transformed faith and belief into mana.

Yet, strangely, Northern ancestral worship did not produce this divine power.

Even so, the Northerners stubbornly continued to worship their ancestors. They prayed for bountiful harvests and fortune during household rituals.

Before battles or hunts, they prayed to their ancestors in their hearts.

They did all this without divine power, blessings, or any tangible reward.

Because of this, the Empire scornfully regarded the Northerners as a people abandoned by the gods.

Even orcs and other barbarian tribes looked down on the Northerners.

Yet the inherently defiant North clung to its faith in ancestral spirits.

“It’s just a lack of fervent belief.”

And I had a pretty good idea why the Northern faith failed to manifest divine power.

“The Northern faith is too scattered. There’s no cohesive doctrine to unify it.”

The Northerners’ faith was profound, but the issue lay in its direction. The concept of household-specific ancestral spirits caused their belief to diverge in depth and focus.

To manifest divine power, a unified doctrine—like the Imperial Church or the Papal State—or a singular idol, like the White Serpent, was necessary.

But the North lacked such unification.

Now, however, this aimless faith was coming to an end.

At this moment, the scattered faith of the North was converging into one focus.

“Let us all pray together! To the revered ancestors of Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

As I rode through Northern villages in Arad Company’s yellow-painted carriage, I saw villagers gathering to pray everywhere I went.

“To think a religion would arise because of fertilizer… This place takes the butterfly effect to a whole new level.”

Initially, I just wanted to maximize the utility of this otherworldly chemical fertilizer.

Since it was already made, I figured some PR wouldn’t hurt.

Then the nickname of the late Grand Duchess Mary entered the equation, and the scale grew far beyond my expectations.

The ripple effects were so overwhelming that even I couldn’t help but think, “What is happening? This is terrifying.”

“It’s a relief the High Tower is cooperating. Of course, they have no reason to oppose the creation of a new religion.”

Currently, officials from the High Tower were diligently compiling Northern myths, legends, and superstitions to craft the doctrines of the Renslet Church.

If things progressed as planned, the North might see priests wielding divine power within a decade.

***

“That spot seems good. Ask the village chief to gather the residents.”

After making a full round of one of the few villages in the North capable of growing wheat, I ordered my entourage to stop the carriage.

“Let’s distribute it here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stop the carriage!”

“Unload the Blessing of Mary!”

Four carriages had come to this village.

Three were loaded with fertilizer, while the fourth carried supplies for the High Tower knights disguised as Arad Company staff and myself.

“Arad’s golden carriages are finally making their mark.”

Sir Eote, the senior knight disguised as an employee, remarked as he helped unload the fertilizer sacks.

“Golden carriages? It’s just yellow paint,” I replied with a chuckle.

Eote and I now addressed each other formally. After all, I was the head of a merchant company and a noble above the rank of count.

“Boss? You should speak informally to me.”

“Ah, right. My mistake. I haven’t been a formal noble for long.”

For now, in our roles as merchant and employee, I needed to address him informally.

“By the way, are you done making actual golden carriages?”

“The maintenance costs are too high. Instead of making one, I could operate twenty regular carriages. It was only worth it because of the special circumstances in the Demonic Realm.”

“So it wasn’t cost-effective.”

“Exactly. Even with food selling at ten to twenty times the price, the maintenance wasn’t worth it.”

“Still, it’s a shame you retired it.”

“I didn’t scrap it, just left it in the High Tower for display. The witches study it like a giant magic tome, so in a way, it’s the world’s largest spellbook.”

Knowing the witches’ tendencies, I turned the golden carriage into an implicit teaching aid.

It would provide them with foundational knowledge for future knowledge transfer, all under strict security. Only authorized witches could access it, thanks to a barrier created with the Archwitch.

“When we launch another large-scale expedition to the Demonic Realm, we might need it again.”

“By then, I’ll make an even better one.”

Eote and I exchanged casual remarks as we unloaded the fertilizer.

Around us, knights and elite soldiers from the High Tower continued unloading sacks.

“By the way, where are the other two?”

“You mean Sir Rosie and Sir Carrot?”

“They were with us at the start but seem to have disappeared.”

“They’re probably at the lord’s castle by now.”

“The lord’s castle? Ah… I see.”

Eote’s cryptic response made me nod slowly. It seemed likely this area would soon become a direct territory of the Grand Duchy.

After setting up all the fertilizer sacks, I glanced around and muttered.

“This is the first distribution of Mary’s Blessing. It’s a shame Mary isn’t here.”

Villagers, half-disorganized, began gathering around the carriages at the chief’s instruction.

“Well… it couldn’t be helped, could it?”

Eote shrugged upon hearing my comment.

“I’ll have to tell Mary how delighted everyone was when I return to the High Tower.”

“She’d appreciate that.”

“Illegitimate or not, status is status.”

Both Eote and I silently agreed on why Mary hadn’t accompanied us.

“My lord… the villagers are all here,” the village chief said politely.

Judging by his attitude, he didn’t realize that I, the merchant, was a count-level noble. To him, I was just a moderately important person sent by the High Tower to distribute aid.

“Good.”

Hearing the chief’s report, I climbed onto a makeshift platform made of stacked boxes.

Tuk-tuk-tuk.

I tapped a magic tool shaped like a megaphone and brought it to my mouth.

The device, enchanted with sound amplification magic, carried my voice far and wide.

“Praise the revered ancestors of Renslet.”

My voice, amplified as though spoken from right next to them, reached even the farthest villagers.

“!!”

“Oh my!”

“What a voice!”

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