Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master-Chapter 111.1

Tides of Old Glory (3)

I had no idea how the conversation with her went.

To the Grand Duchess, all I could offer was a pitiful excuse for an apology.

Despite my best preparations, it seemed the witches had thwarted us, and the best course of action was to admit our incompetence.

There was no way I could confess that the curse we cast had mistakenly rebounded onto Beatrice herself.

‘Magic of the Golden Age. Did I misinterpret it?’

‘No, the interpretation was flawless.’

‘If there’s a cause, it must be that witch, Isabelle.’

‘What in the world did she do?!’

I only came to understand why the curse had struck the Grand Duchess much later when I learned of Haran’s curse.

Isabelle and the witches had been under Haran’s curse, which was not merely a curse but also a form of protection.

It was a powerful curse reflecting the Great Witch Haran’s will: “I may curse and torment you, but I will not tolerate others doing so.”

Thus, the curse we cast was reflected onto the pregnant woman closest to Isabelle.

“I am merciful, so I shall grant you another chance.”

“Your mercy… I am grateful.”

After the meeting with the Grand Duchess, I unintentionally ended up walking through the Renslet fortress with her.

“Her child, that child must di—”

“Your Grace, over there!”

“?!”

At that moment, we ran into Isabelle.

“I greet Your Grace, the Grand Duchess.”

“Oh my, Isabelle~! How have you been? It’s been almost half a year, hasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“I heard you gave birth to a son. Truly, con-gra-tu-la-tions.”

“…Thank you.”

Isabelle was well aware that the Grand Duchess held a low opinion of her.

Thus, despite residing in the same High Tower, Isabelle had gone to great lengths to avoid her.

So much so that they hadn’t crossed paths for nearly six months.

“Uhm… Is Your Grace doing well?”

“Me? I am always well.”

“I-I see…”

However, Isabelle’s response to the Grand Duchess seemed unusual.

Her gaze, filled with shock and concern, was directed at the Grand Duchess.

“Your child is truly. Beautiful.”

The Grand Duchess, however, didn’t notice Isabelle’s odd gaze.

Her attention was entirely focused on the baby cradled in Isabelle’s arms.

‘Has Isabelle realized it too?’

I instinctively knew why Isabelle was looking at the Grand Duchess like that.

‘The curse that was meant for Isabelle has undoubtedly bounced off.’

She could see it too—the mark of the curse imprinted on Beatrice.

“Have you named the baby yet?”

“Not yet.”

“The Grand Duke is so indifferent, isn’t he? Not even naming the child yet…”

“He intends to name him after he safely passes his first birthday.”

“That’s exactly what I mean by indifferent. It’s as if he doesn’t believe such a beautiful, healthy baby will even survive their first year.”

“That is…”

“Well, the northern cold is indeed harsh for newborns.”

“Yes…”

“The palace being built within the inner citadel must be completed soon. Isabelle, you should put some effort into making that happen.”

“…”

Despite the Grand Duchess’s rude remarks, Isabelle didn’t react much.

She simply glanced at me while looking at the mark on the Grand Duchess.

“…”

For a while, Isabelle alternated her trembling gaze between me and the Grand Duchess.

At the time, I had to endure her gaze with a blood-draining feeling of guilt.

“Well then, I shall take my leave…”

Thankfully.

Isabelle left without saying much.

Time passed again.

The Grand Duchess’s due date approached.

Uneasy about many things, I sent a familiar to the High Tower’s inner citadel on the day of the Grand Duchess’s labor.

“Aaaaarghhh!!”

“M-My Lady?! My Lady!!”

The Grand Duchess Beatrice died in childbirth. The child never left her womb and passed away along with her.

It must have been due to the curse.

“The Grand Duchess… died in childbirth…?”

“Sob… Grand Duke…”

“…”

However, an unexpected event occurred in the aftermath.

“Isabelle, how about we register your son as the late Grand Duchess’s child?”

“Pardon?”

Even before Beatrice’s body turned cold.

“The child hasn’t been named yet, has he?”

The Northern Grand Duke, Rune Renslet, made a decisive move.

“Let us name him now. This child shall be called ‘Pilgrim.’”

“Pilgrim…!”

“And from now on, you shall be Pilgrim’s wet nurse. Though your name cannot formally appear in the family register, your son will be recorded as a legitimate member of the Renslet ducal house—not a bastard, but as one of shining lineage.” ꞦἈꞐɵВЁ§

“!!”

It is said that positions shape people.

In the time I hadn’t seen him, Rune Renslet had become a cold ruler.

He did not want the Empire to meddle in the North’s internal affairs by sending a new Grand Duchess.

Publicly, it was announced that Beatrice had given birth to a healthy son but succumbed shortly after to postpartum fever.

“But… so many saw and heard…”

“That is not your concern. The dead do not speak.”

“!!”

“P-Please, Your Grace, spare me!!”

“Aaaah!”

“Ack!”

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

To silence any witnesses, everyone in the High Tower who knew the truth was massacred.

The pretext was their failure to properly care for Beatrice.

As the bloody purge swept through, my heart pounded as if it might burst.

“…!”

Then, by chance, I saw her face.

Isabelle, holding her son Pilgrim, looked almost… pleased.

She stood calmly, gazing indifferently at the Grand Duchess’s corpse, still warm, and the scattered bodies surrounding her.

At that moment, I thought I understood why she had pretended not to notice the curse on Beatrice.

“…”

Through the raven familiar, Isabelle’s detached gaze locked onto mine.

Her golden eyes, once unperturbed, grew cold.

That look felt like a warning.

After that day, I avoided the High Tower as much as possible.

Like someone gripped by paranoia, I ensured the Dark Sorcerers of the Devil’s Den kept absolute silence.

But anxiety and restlessness once again drove us to madness, pushing us to activate the darker sides of black magic.

“We don’t know when the witches will attack!”

“We must prove our worth!”

“The labyrinth! Decode more of its ruins!”

“Bring more! More sacrifices for the rituals!”

Our home, Haven, transformed into a horrifying village steeped in death.

Women and children vanished daily, and their mutilated bodies would appear at the village outskirts days later.

“Isaac! What in the world are you doing?!”

Eventually, Rune Renslet descended upon Haven, leading the knights himself.

“Haven borders the Empire! If rumors spread here, the Imperial Court and the Holy See will intervene!”

The Grand Duke and his knights carried a chilling killing intent, as if their resolve had been hardened during the journey.

“Search every corner of the Devil’s Den! I need to see what has transpired here!”

“No, stop!!”

By the time we snapped out of our madness, it was already too late—the catastrophe had reached its peak.

“Urghhh…!”

“These lunatic Dark Sorcerers…!”

“They must die. Kill these cursed bastards!”

“Report on the witches! What were you doing in the Devil’s Den?!”

“Well…”

“If you can’t explain due to your rules, speak as vaguely as possible!”

“It seemed… they were trying to summon a monster from legend.”

Even the North, accustomed to savagery and slaughter, paled in comparison to the madness of the Devil’s Den.

Knights who combed through the den retched incessantly, their gazes full of contempt as they looked at me and the other Dark Sorcerer.

“This isn’t even worth hearing excuses.”

Rune Renslet’s gaze from atop his horse no longer held any trace of friendship.

“Eradicate them. Burn it all.”