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

“Mary!”

Seeing Mary, I couldn’t help but break into a wide smile, glad to see her.

“Welcome!”

“…I heard you were looking for me so much,” she replied, finally softening her usual stern expression with a faint smile.

“That’s right! No matter how busy you are or what personal matters you have, it’s our company’s opening day. You should at least show your face!”

“I apologize. I was delayed by some personal matters.”

“It’s fine. The important thing is that you’re here now.”

“So, what’s this business item? I recall you saying there’d be a product to unveil alongside the opening ceremony.”

Mary’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, her interest piqued by the words I had murmured earlier.

“Of course. It’s—”

Just then:

“They’re coming! The expeditionary force is returning!”

Messengers, carrying blue flags, rode through the streets of the High Tower, shouting the announcement.

“It looks like the Northern Ice Wall Division and the Frost Shield Corps will arrive within three days,” Mary said, her eyes bright with joy at the news.

“Well, I timed the opening date perfectly, didn’t I? Any later, and this ceremony would have been overshadowed by the celebrations for their return.”

I had already heard about the Sun Expedition and Frost Shield Corps returning victoriously after defeating the barbarians and orcs.

It was no secret in the High Tower. News like this was always sent via carrier pigeons before the heralds arrived.

Everyone had expected them to arrive around this time.

“Well, looks like my first business item will have to wait,” I said, sighing as I watched the bustling streets of the High Tower.

The accuracy of the timing set the entire city into a flurry of activity.

This was the return of heroes. The city had to prepare its best welcome, limited though its resources were.

And I had my part to play in this as well.

The North was still a land steeped in danger.

While mutated monsters of the Demonic Zones were somewhat kept in check by Empire-sponsored adventurers and their northern counterparts, other threats weren’t so easily managed.

There were the druids of the Manus Mountains, barbarians who were monsters in human skin, carrying out acts no different from beasts.

Then there were the Arctic Orcs, who ceaselessly launched invasions from the never-melting frozen seas.

The presence of these two groups constantly threatened the peace of the North, gnawing away at its potential for growth.

For this reason, the large-scale expeditions conducted every three years were a matter of survival for the North.

If left unchecked, the barbarian tribes would breed and eventually dare to assault the Great Wall.

The North was already plagued by monsters; if those tribes crossed the wall, it would truly be hell on earth.

In a way, these expeditions were a form of pruning.

The Northerners called them the Extreme North Expedition or the Preventative War.

“Just a little further! We’re almost at the High Tower! A grand banquet awaits us there!”

Sir Theo, a knight of the Frost Shield Corps, shouted, rallying his weary soldiers.

Yet the shout was as much for himself as it was for them—a desperate attempt to ward off the creeping fatigue and despair that clawed at his mind.

It was a shout he’d been repeating since this morning—or perhaps since last evening, or even the morning before.

In truth, his voice was already hoarse.

“Well done, everyone! The duchess herself, and the ancestors, will remember your sacrifice and dedication!”

In the distance, the faint silhouette of the High Tower, the fortress of hope and longing, came into view. Below it stretched the endless expanse of the Extreme North Great Wall, the North’s final line of defense.

At the forefront of the procession, messengers sent from the High Tower were already guiding the column.

“The blood, sweat, and tears we shed on this expedition have spared our families from having to shed theirs!” Theo bellowed.

As he spoke, an empty sleeve on his right side flapped in the wind, but he paid it no mind.

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”

His call was echoed by the soldiers, their pace quickening as if spurred on by some newfound energy.

“Hah…”

Finally, some of the tension within him began to dissipate.

Sir Theo was only eighteen years old, barely two years into adulthood by this world’s standards. 

He was also a newly minted knight, having received his title just before departing on the expedition.

‘To think I’ve survived to return… it feels like a dream.’

This had been his first Extreme North Expedition.

While he had faced monsters and barbarians who attacked the Great Wall before, this was his first time crossing the wall and venturing deep into enemy territory.

‘The next expedition will be in three years?’

Though the expedition had been grueling and painful, Theo knew he would volunteer again without hesitation. 

It was terrifying, but it was a duty that someone had to fulfill. 

He believed it was the only way to honor the blood price paid by the comrades who had gone to the ancestors before him.

‘Still, I probably won’t be part of the next one.’

His gaze drifted to the loose, empty sleeve of his right arm, and his expression turned bitter.

During this expedition, Theo had lost his right arm.

Even now, it felt surreal. It was as if he could still clench his hand into a fist and grip a sword.

‘And I’m not the only one.’

His eyes scanned the procession, falling on the carts carrying the wounded.

Unlike Theo, who could still walk, the carts were reserved for those who had lost legs or sustained injuries so severe they couldn’t move.

“Sir Theo, thank you for everything.”

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