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

“Oh my!”

“What a voice!”

The villagers’ eyes widened in astonishment at the use of the megaphone, something they had never seen before. Those standing nearby were so startled that a few stumbled and sat down on the spot.

Like a herald or a missionary from a religious order, I began delivering the speech I had meticulously prepared.

[The noble and compassionate Grand Duchess, Arina Rune Renslet, has had her prayers answered! Of course, the prayers of you, who joined her in prayer, also played a significant role!]

By now, similar speeches were likely being delivered by officials and enforcers in other villages across the North.

[Do you remember her? The former Grand Duchess, who has now become part of the snowfields. The one lovingly known as Mary, the mother of Lady Arina.]

Thanks to the MAX-level skill I possessed, Eloquence, the villagers listened to my words as if entranced.

“Mary? Does he mean Grand Duchess Maryna?”

“She was the mother of the North.”

The mention of the former Grand Duchess’s name stirred nostalgic emotions in the villagers.

[She has heard our desperate prayers and answered them.]

Recently, I had come to realize that in the North, Arina’s mother was more beloved than the former Grand Duke Baikal.

While Baikal ruled the North with reverence and charisma, Maryna governed with love and compassion.

The current low tax rates were her work. She had also been the first to provide standard-issue weapons and armor to even the lowest-ranking soldiers. Policies offering monthly provisions and stipends to injured veterans began during her time as well.

[Indeed! What you see before you is the blessing, the grace, and the miracle brought about by the prayers of the Grand Duchess and her people!]

The speech resonated powerfully with the crowd.

When deciding on the name for the fertilizer, I had debated using “Mary,” but now I completely understood why it would have been a waste to name it anything else.

[Now, under the name of Renslet, the North, too, can create miracles imbued with divine power! All thanks to the prayers of the Grand Duchess and our people!]

Although the villagers had yet to see this miracle with their own eyes,

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

They cried out in tears, chanting Renslet’s name over and over like fervent believers.

Similar scenes unfolded not only in this village but in others throughout the North.

The deeper people sink into despair, the more they turn to superstition and religion.

This applies to both the educated and the uneducated.

It is a primal response, stemming not from intellect but from the instinctive fear of the unknown.

The farmer, driven by desperation, joined the daily morning prayers at the village square alongside the other villagers.

His pregnant wife and their growing children also participated in the prayers.

With the rye fields utterly ruined, there was nothing else they could do.

Prayer was their only option.

How long had they been praying?

One day, yellow-painted carriages from the High Tower arrived at the village.

An official stepped out confidently and declared, in a loud voice, that the prayers of the Grand Duchess and the people had been answered. They had received a blessing to revive the land.

The blessing was called “Mary’s Blessing,” named after the late Grand Duchess Maryna, the Grand Duchess’s mother.

“Fertilizer?”

At first, the farmer tilted his head at the thought.

But he quickly clamped his hand over his mouth and dismissed the idea.

“What was I thinking… Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

Chanting the name of Renslet to refocus his faith was an instinctive afterthought.

The farmer, along with his family, lugged the large sacks distributed from the so-called golden carriage—though it looked yellow—to their home.

The sacks bore an illustration of a golden carriage, beneath which an elegant script was written.

When the farmer asked someone who could read, they said the name was “Arad Company.”

“Arad Company… is that the same Arad from the salt?”

Though illiterate, the farmer knew the name Arad. It was the salt that had brightened the tables of poor farmers, and he held a great deal of gratitude for it.

But he didn’t dwell on the name. For now, restarting his halted farming was his priority.

“This is… Mary’s Blessing?”

Opening the sack at home, the farmer found the dark brown powder labeled as Mary’s Blessing.

“They even gave us wheat seeds! Thank you, noble and compassionate Grand Duchess!”

Along with the fertilizer was a pouch containing wheat seeds.

“This smells wonderful, dear.”

“Yes. It doesn’t smell like regular manure.”

Mary’s Blessing exuded a rich, earthy aroma, convincing the farmer that it wasn’t just fertilizer but truly a blessing from Renslet.

What kind of manure smelled this good?

“Let’s plow the field immediately.”

“Yes, dear.”

“You should rest at home. You haven’t been eating well lately.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, Mom! We’ll help Dad!”

The farmer left his pregnant wife at home and went to the fields with his children, who eagerly helped with the work.

Though their small hands were slow and clumsy, their effort was far better than none.

“How long has it been since I last farmed?”

Despite the physical strain, the farmer felt joy and peace in his heart.

After plowing the field, he sowed the wheat seeds and spread Mary’s Blessing over them. Then he covered the seeds with soil and watered them with water drawn by his children.

According to the official at the square, tests conducted by the High Tower had shown this method to yield the best results.

“Will it really grow well? The planting season has long passed…”

Doubt lingered in the farmer’s heart as he finished.

Mary’s Blessing was said to accelerate growth significantly and produce an abundant harvest.

But he had yet to witness this with his own eyes.

It wasn’t so much faith as desperation that drove him to act.

And so, a day passed. Then two. And then a week.

“Oh my…”

The farmer’s family stared at the field in awe and disbelief, tears welling in their eyes.

“Wow…”

“Dear, we’re saved!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

Not only had the seeds sprouted in record time, but the field was now covered with lush green wheat, already knee-high.

Within a week, the farmer could no longer deny it.

Mary’s Blessing was indeed a sacred miracle.

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