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

Chapter 22.2



“No. I will continue walking the path of the sword.”

Her words carried unwavering determination.

“…”

Isabelle, the Witch of Spring, gazed quietly at her young liege.

“As I expected, that’s what you’d say,” Isabelle replied, breaking into a broad smile.

“You expected that?”

“Yes. This also concludes my check of your mental state and memory.”

“…?”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to learn a few simple practical spells appropriate for a 2-circle magician. They’re fun and useful.”

At Isabelle’s casual response, Arina furrowed her brow and asked,

“And if I had chosen the path of magic instead?”

“Hmm… Then I might have used every means at my disposal to cast a mental reformation spell on you…?”

“Let’s stop there.”

Arina cut her off, scrutinizing Isabelle closely.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Isabelle tilted her head with a smile, puzzled by her liege’s gaze.

“You smell of blood. There’s blood on the hem of your skirt, too.”

The color and scent were utterly uncharacteristic of the Witch of Spring, who was usually surrounded by the smells of grass and earth.

“There was a purge, wasn’t there?”

Arina spoke with a heavy tone, her eyes somber.

“Yes…”

Isabelle nodded deeply, her expression serious.

“There were more rats than I expected, breeding unchecked.”

“I suspected as much.”

“Perhaps we’ve been too focused on Haven, overrun with imperial adventurers, leaving other vulnerabilities exposed.”

“The cost of complacency was high. It was a close call.”

“I heard about Doyle from Sir Balzac. It was my failure to manage the Frost Knights. Please punish me.”

“Pay for your mistakes by eradicating the Empire’s vermin.”

“…Understood.”

Leaving the matter of the purge to Isabelle, Arina stood from her bed. She swayed slightly, her legs unsteady after lying down for so long.

“By the way, Your Grace,” Isabelle said as she supported Arina.

“Speak, old woman.”

“What do you truly know about this Arad Jin?”

“…I don’t know his exact identity.”

“That’s what I thought. He’s too suspicious…”

“But he saved not only me but the North as well. I won’t tolerate any nonsense against him—ever.”

Arina’s unshakable trust in Arad Jin startled Isabelle, who stared at her liege in disbelief.

“And… I do have a theory about Arad Jin’s identity,” Arina added cautiously, glancing at Isabelle.

“Do tell,” Isabelle encouraged, her interest piqued as she helped Arina toward the bathroom.

Clearing her throat, Arina glanced around. The aftermath of the great purge had left the corridors eerily empty—no maids, no attendants, no servants.

“Arad Jin… might be…”

Leaning close to whisper into Isabelle’s ear, Arina said softly,

“An Ancient.”

“…Pardon?”

“The Demonic Abyss holds many dungeons created during the ancient golden age. He’s likely a magician from that time, sealed away and recently awakened.”

“…?”

The ancient golden age, a civilization that existed roughly 5,000 years ago, was shrouded in mystery.

Having experienced the space-distorting barrier in the abyss firsthand, Arina believed it was entirely plausible. If such magic existed today, then surely the golden age, known for its magical prowess, would have wielded even greater powers.

“Well… um…” Isabelle faltered, unsure how to respond.

“But, contrary to legend, he was much kinder and more considerate than the magicians described in ancient texts.”

“…?”

Isabelle’s face contorted into one of the most baffled expressions of her life.

Arina’s theory diverged wildly from the witches’ conjecture, which painted Arad as a low-level magician who had stumbled upon golden-age relics.

“Why… Why do you think that, Your Grace? From what I’ve seen, Arad Jin’s mana measures between 1 and 2 circles.”

“Exactly,” Arina said confidently.

“Excuse me?”

“Creating Arad Salt, crafting the golden carriage, conjuring searing magic arrows, even brewing Elixir—those aren’t feats a mere 2-circle magician could achieve.”

“That… is true…”

“He must be concealing his true strength for some reason. Or perhaps his long imprisonment left him weakened.”

“Hmm…”

Isabelle was left utterly speechless, her mind reeling from Arina’s assertions.

Time-twisting seals spanning 5,000 years? Utilizing hyperspace or extreme gravity barriers might make such things theoretically possible, but…

As a seasoned magician, Isabelle found Arina’s theory lacking in credibility.

To warp time across 5,000 years, you’d need the combined power of every dragon from legend. 

The magical energy required would increase exponentially with the time span.

Even if such a miracle had occurred, it didn’t explain why no other ancients had resurfaced alongside Arad.

Honestly, the theory of Arad being a dragon would make more sense.

Of course, Isabelle didn’t believe the dragon theory either. She held firmly to the idea that Arad was simply a low-level magician lucky enough to discover golden-age relics.

Watching her young mistress, so pure in her musings, Isabelle hesitated.

Should she challenge Arina’s theory with the witches’ more grounded speculations?

Or should she let her mistress hold on to her romantic notions?

It’s problematic for a ruler like her to mistake a mere low-level magician for an ancient being.

As North’s sovereign, Arina couldn’t afford such lapses in judgment.

“Your Grace…” Isabelle began, preparing to correct her.

“But, old woman… there’s something I’m curious about,” Arina interrupted.

“Yes?”

Before Isabelle could speak further, Arina’s next question caught her entirely off guard.

“Um… I’m just asking out of curiosity… Would it be possible for someone from the golden age to have a child with someone from today?”

“?!”

Arina’s face was a mixture of nervousness and blush, an expression Isabelle had never seen in all the years she had cared for her.

“Well, yes. It’s possible. Humans from the golden age and today are the same species,” Isabelle replied, struggling to keep her composure.

“I-I see!”

“Besides, Your Grace, you’re a Northerner, aren’t you? Do you know that Northerners share roots with the barbarian druids?”

“I do.”

“The distant ancestors of the druids who first settled this land were the ancients of the golden age, known as naturalists.”

“I remember hearing that from my father when I was young. In any case… it’s not an issue, then. That’s a relief.”

“?!”

That reaction! Could it be…?!

Isabelle screamed internally as she watched her mistress’s unmistakable demeanor.

So, it’s finally springtime for my lady!

Her mind raced.

Between an ordinary low-level magician who stumbled upon relics and a 5,000-year-old ancient, the latter is definitely the more romantic choice.

Let’s observe for now!

Isabelle decided to let it go for the moment.

After all, spring had come not only to the North but also to its Grand Duchess.

The truth, Isabelle thought, could wait until the relationship between the two deepened further.

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