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

The day after the banquet, Arina received the report she had secretly hoped for the most from Haita, the Chief Administrator.

“Arad requested access to the war spoils warehouse?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Haita confirmed.

“Grant him access. Tell him he may take anything he needs. If anyone questions him, let them know it’s under my authority.”

A thrill of anticipation coursed through her, making it impossible to sit still.

What will he make this time? And what else?

Her curiosity burned. She even considered disguising herself as Mary to stay by his side and watch his process.

But there was no time for such indulgence. Arina had duties to fulfill—no matter how relatively free a Grand Duchess of the North might seem. 

The recently returned expeditionary force needed care, the distribution of rewards and promotions awaited, and plans for the next campaign had to be drawn.

“It likely is. He wouldn’t have requested access to the warehouse after leaving the field hospital otherwise,” Arina replied, recalling the events of the previous day with Isabelle.

So this is how things turned out, unintentionally. Still, it’s a welcome development—something I’d have asked him to do myself.

Recently, Arina realized she needed to refine the alibi surrounding Mary and herself.

“Miss, even though the transformation magic includes mental interference, you mustn’t be too careless.”

“Why not?”

“If someone gathers enough evidence or makes strong enough inferences, the magic won’t hold.”

“!!”

Isabelle, the creator of the transformation magic necklace, had warned her.

It already feels like Mary is overshadowing Arina, but anyway! If we’re found out now, things will get even messier.

Exactly! I don’t know how it came to this, but being exposed now would complicate everything.

I’m counting on you, old woman!

Trust me! I’ve got a brand-new spell ready for this situation.

With Isabelle’s help, they had created an illusion of Mary during the banquet.

It worked splendidly. Arad, upon spotting Mary, had left his seat, and Arina had gladly allowed it.

Thus began the chase between Arad and the illusion of Mary.

However, even Isabelle, a grand witch, had her limits. The longer the chase continued, the quicker the illusion’s range and duration reached their threshold. Coincidentally, the illusion had faded near the field hospital.

Could the fervent spirits of the Renslets and the North truly be watching over us? Arina wondered, gazing at the ceiling of her office.

The ceiling featured a carving depicting Rune Renslet, the first Grand Duke of Renslet, in battle. It portrayed him facing legendary enemies—the white serpent Jormungandr of the demon realm, the druidic barbarians of the Manus Mountains, and the northernmost orcs of the Frozen Sea—all trembling before his shining blade.

Oh, fervent ancestors of Renslet, I pray for another miracle. Please grant hope to our injured soldiers and knights.

The North was a land frequently ravaged by barbaric hordes. For every death, there were many more who were left crippled.

Arina had long been troubled by the plight of injured soldiers and knights. 

She had implemented policies to support them, such as providing monthly food supplies and stipends, a program that had been in place since her mother’s reign. 

Recently, she had even initiated a program to help them find employment.

It was an unprecedented effort across the continent.

But the results were meager.

Even able-bodied people struggled to find work in the North. Jobs for those who were crippled were practically non-existent.

The stipends themselves were woefully insufficient.

The Renslet Grand Duchy couldn’t afford more. Over 70% of its budget went to military expenses, and taxes were kept deliberately low.

As a result, most injured soldiers faced miserable ends within a few years or resorted to desperate measures.

Please let another miracle happen on this land. Ancestors of Renslet, Rune Renslet… I owe them too much.

This burden had weighed on Arina for a long time.

***

Mary still had five days left in her vacation.

Yet, even during those five days, the company needed to function—especially now that a new project had emerged.

“Are you sure about hiring me? I’m missing an arm,” Theo asked hesitantly.

“It’s fine. I don’t plan on having you wield a sword,” I replied.

It had become clear that I needed to hire another permanent employee.

Mary, despite being a future Grand Witch of the Snowfields, a Renslet illegitimate child, and exceptionally skilled in craftsmanship, calculations, and administration, was far too frequently absent to be reliable.

Truthfully, the only reason I kept her on was to maintain a connection with a future Grand Witch.

“You’re now the Head of Operations Support,” I announced.

“The head of… what?”

“You’ll handle recruiting staff, procuring materials, finding venues, managing documents, and keeping the books in order. Ah, you don’t need to worry about taxes—we’re a sanctioned trade group. Hahaha!”

“But… I’ve spent my life swinging a sword. While I can do basic math, I’m no merchant or bureaucrat. Large, complex calculations are beyond me,” Theo protested.

I hired Theo, a one-armed former knight, as a temporary employee.

He seemed smart, had a good attitude, and, as Rosie’s younger brother, he came with a bonus of trustworthiness. I didn’t hesitate to make him my second employee.

“Take this,” I said, handing Theo a rectangular wooden object filled with round beads.

“What’s this?”

“It’s called an abacus. It’s more efficient than the clunky calculators used here.”

“An abacus?”

“Let me show you how to use it.”

I spent the entire morning teaching Theo how to use the abacus.

He picked it up quickly, thanks to his intelligence, and soon began applying what he’d learned.

“This is incredible! I can calculate numbers in the thousands so easily!” Theo exclaimed, genuinely impressed.

What remained was teaching him to write with his left hand.

But that wasn’t urgent. Soon, he’d be able to write with his right hand again.

“You seem to have gotten the hang of the abacus. I’ll assign you some tasks,” I said.

“Yes, sir! Leave it to me!” Theo replied, his voice filled with newfound confidence, likely from mastering the abacus.

“Start by recruiting people. We need skilled hands to join us,” I instructed.

“You’re hiring?”

“That’s right. Look for people who are good with their hands and others who can read, write, and calculate.”

“How many should I recruit?”

“Bring as many as you can find. Oh, and it doesn’t matter if they’re disabled.”

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