“Sir Arad!”
“It’s Lord Arad!”
Several soldiers called out excitedly upon spotting me.
The witches, who had been intently focused on treating the wounded, noticed me belatedly and greeted me with warm smiles.
Even as they turned their gazes toward me, their hands never stopped moving. They continued cleaning wounds, applying ointments, and performing simple healing spells without pause.
“Allow me to introduce someone, sir. This is my younger brother, Theo,” Rosie said.
I waved lightly at the witches and then turned my attention back to Rosie and the knight he had just introduced.
“Brother, is this the one? The one who made Arad Salt?!” Theo asked, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Yes, and he personally developed the dishes being served at this banquet,” Rosie replied.
Thankfully, Rosie refrained from mentioning that I had also created Mary’s Blessing. That fertilizer needed to remain a historical record of the fervent prayers of the Northerners, not my own invention.“It’s an honor to meet you! I’m Theo Shapiro, a knight of the Frost Shield Legion,” Theo said, bowing deeply.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Arad Jin,” I replied.
I instinctively extended my hand for a handshake but froze mid-gesture. Theo was missing his right arm.
“Ah… hmph. Anyway, good to meet you,” I said awkwardly, withdrawing my hand.
“Haha, no need to worry about it,” Theo said cheerfully, taking the initiative to dispel my discomfort.
‘He’s more positive and considerate than I expected. As a knight, he’s likely well-read and familiar with strategy. He should also be capable of calculations,’ I thought, my internal radar for talent acquisition sparking to life.
“But, sir, what brings you here?” Rosie finally asked, curious about my unexpected visit.
“On a day off, there’s no need to call me ‘sir.’ You’re a senior knight—you can speak more casually with me,” I suggested.
“This is more comfortable. Consistency in addressing you helps prevent mistakes in critical moments,” Rosie replied.
“As you wish. You, Sir Eote here, and even Sir Carrot, who isn’t present, are beyond my persuasion at this point,” I said, letting out a resigned chuckle.
After a brief exchange with Rosie, I looked around to address the reason I had come here.
“By the way, where is Miss Mary?”
“Miss Mary? Why are you looking for her here?” Rosie asked, puzzled.
“What do you mean? I saw her enter here not long ago. Sir Eote and I came here because of that,” I explained.
“Pardon? I’ve been here the whole time, but I haven’t seen her,” Rosie said firmly.
“Huh?”
“What?”
Eote and I exchanged bewildered looks. Did we both imagine the same thing?
I glanced at the witches for confirmation, but they were wholly engrossed in tending to their patients, seemingly oblivious to anyone entering.
Even if Mary had come in, they wouldn’t have noticed.
“Excuse me… sir? There are other soldiers here. May I introduce them to you?” Rosie asked, redirecting the conversation.
He naturally guided me toward a group of soldiers who were eating their meals.
‘Hmm…’
The soldiers sitting there were mostly veterans who had lost limbs. Their bandages and clothing were clean, likely thanks to the diligent care of the witches and healers.
“Everyone, stop eating for a moment and look here. This is Count Arad Jin, the man who developed the food you’re eating!” Theo announced proudly, taking the lead in introducing me.
Looking closer, I noticed not only soldiers but also a few knights among the group. Most of them bore scars of grievous injuries, with missing arms or legs.
“Count, thank you so much. I’ve never eaten such delicious food in my life. Hahaha!” one soldier said, laughing heartily.
“I apologize for not standing to greet you properly. My legs…” another said apologetically, gesturing to his injury.
“Don’t worry about it. Just continue eating,” I replied with a smile, nodding toward them.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, I discreetly observed their expressions and eyes.
‘Most of them lack vitality.’
Their faces seemed to force happiness, resembling people savoring a last meal.
If their souls were like candle flames, each one appeared to waver precariously in a strong wind.
Living with such incapacitated bodies in the harsh Northern environment was tantamount to a death sentence.
‘Could she have led me here deliberately? Using magic to guide me?’
I cautiously pondered the situation.
“Excuse me… sir,” Rosie interrupted gently, his expression tentative.
“You’re asking if there’s a way to help them?”
“How did you know?” Rosie asked, startled.
“Call it intuition.”
“Is there a solution? Please, I beg you!” Rosie implored, bowing his head earnestly.
“Hm…”
I fell into thought.
At this moment, I wasn’t acting as a business-minded CEO but as a creator, analyzing the situation from a craftsman’s perspective.
‘Given this fantasy world setting, if I propose something as mundane as prosthetic limbs, everyone will be disappointed. Automail is the way to go…’
In a world where magic existed, some fields far surpassed Earth’s technology. The golden carriage and subspace bags I had introduced earlier were prime examples. Similarly, automail that could move according to the user’s will was feasible.
‘But the current infrastructure and casting techniques can’t produce alloys suitable for automail.’
The problem was that creating automail like those from Age of Silver I was impossible with the North’s current technology and resources.
‘Think. There has to be another way…’
To transmit magic signals to the user’s brain or enable voluntary movement, a special magical alloy was essential.
‘Even if I crudely coat existing metals and engrave magic circuits, it’d be too heavy to use. It’d also break easily with the slightest mistake.’
The design also needed to be lightweight, durable enough for daily wear, and water-resistant.
‘The materials required for magic alloys… that’s out of the question for now.’
Crafting such an alloy required materials like mithril, orichalcum, and aether—none of which were readily available in the North without significant time and budget.
‘And we don’t even have rubber! Without a direct trade route to the Southern Continent, getting rubber is impossible.’
The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that the current situation was near impossible.
‘Is there no other option…?’
I briefly considered designing simple prosthetics inspired by Earth’s models, but…
‘Wait! Who says automail have to be made of metal and rubber?’
An idea struck me like lightning.
“Does the expedition force have any monster byproducts among the loot they brought back? Specifically, humanoid monsters like orcs?” I asked Rosie, a new solution forming in my mind.
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