Chapter 12.2

“The Grand Witch of Spring could be helpful in battle.”

Sir Eote pressed on, undeterred.

“If we summon her here now… the greenhouse farms will be severely impacted. At least ten thousand people in the High Tower will go hungry.”

Arina firmly shook her head at the knights’ concerns.

“…”

“Do not worry. I will not die, and neither will you.”

Such was the unyielding noblesse oblige of Renslet, bordering on obstinacy.

“The reason we’ve been able to defend the North from barbarians, monsters, and orcs is because every soldier, from the lowest rank to the ruler, wields their sword on the battlefield with a united purpose.”

Ironically, it was this very principle that had allowed the North to endure its endless battles against savage foes.

“Even if I fall, the North will not falter. My people are Renslet.”

This tradition of rulers leading from the front had solidified the people’s morale, even amid relentless hardship.

No matter how many husbands, fathers, or sons died in battle, the people’s loyalty to Renslet never wavered.

Of course, if Arad—aware of the original timeline—had witnessed this scene, he would have shaken his head in exasperation.

—

Meanwhile, at Jack’s Innn/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

As I modified my carriage and crafted magitech devices to equip it, I kept my ears open for news from the outside.

“They haven’t left Haven yet?”

The top priority was, of course, the Grand Duke and her knights staying at Polly’s Inn. Despite looking ready to leave at any moment, they were still in Haven, busy inspecting the city’s fortifications and defense protocols.

“Something must have happened in the Demonic Realm, but… it’s quiet?”

My second priority was the Demonic Realm itself. Yet, it remained eerily silent.

Neither the information I gathered through Haven’s adventurers’ guild nor the reports from recently returned adventurers hinted at anything unusual.

“The history of the North has been too thoroughly erased by the Empire. So frustrating. Especially Arina’s story—it exists only as oral tradition.”

The advantage of knowing a timeline 100 years into the future was almost useless.

I had no idea what might be unfolding in the Demonic Realm at this point in time.

—

One day, while I was taking a break at Jack’s Inn instead of working in the warehouse, the Grand Duke and her knights paid a visit.

“You’re here.”

Disguised in robes and hoods, they entered the inn.

“It’s been a while. I thought you’d left Haven already.”

Feigning ignorance, I welcomed them warmly.

“We thought we’d have one last taste of your cooking before leaving.”

Balzac, speaking on behalf of the group, explained their purpose.

“Will this be your final visit to Haven?”

“We might stop by after completing the mission. But by then, you’ll likely have left Haven yourself.”

Of course, they seemed aware of my recent activities.

“In any case, come to the High Tower in spring to receive your title. Even though it’s a minor rank, it’s better than nothing.”

“I will.”

I nodded, glancing briefly at Arina, who stood quietly behind Balzac.

“Now, shall we eat?”

“Right away.”

Hastily donning my apron, I prepared what might be my final omakase in Haven.

This time, however, I refrained from expressing any desire to join their journey.

“It’s too late. I’ve started too many projects already.”

A significant portion of my wealth had been invested in the nearly complete project at the carriage depot.

“Besides, their party prioritizes mobility and combat power. I don’t even have a high-grade horse capable of traversing the Demonic Realm.”

Even if I joined, I’d be more of a burden than an asset.

—

After the Meal

When the meal was over, Balzac offered a farewell on behalf of the knights.

“That was truly delightful! I’ll remember it fondly.”

“It was an honor.”

Although I had intended to serve the meal for free, Balzac insisted on paying with silver coins.

“This is a small token of my appreciation.”

I handed him a leather pouch.

“What’s this?”

The pouch, crafted by me, was elegantly made and immediately caught their attention.

“It contains Arad Salt.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Balzac and the knights accepted the gift with bright smiles.

“By the way, where did you get this pouch?”

“I made it myself.”

“Your skills extend beyond cooking. Truly impressive.”

And so, I concluded my time at Jack’s Inn with a perfect send-off.

“Thank you for everything.”

“?!”

It was then that Arina, with her hood pulled low, suddenly extended her hand to me, offering a simple yet heartfelt thanks.

“…!”

Momentarily stunned, I stared at her hand and partially concealed face. Even the knights around her seemed surprised.

“Iria, a humble knight of the High Tower.”

Ignoring their reactions, Arina introduced herself under a pseudonym.

“I am Arad Jin.”

I carefully took her calloused hand and bowed. Her hand was rough and hardened, but it carried a warmth that lingered.

—

That Afternoon

Arina and her knights left Haven.

I stood at the city gates, watching the direction they disappeared into before heading back to the warehouse.

—

Three Days Later

I, too, left Haven, pulling my newly modified carriage behind me.