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

133. Mech Knight Pluto (3)

Honestly, collaborative projects like this should ideally be handled by senior managers directly under the CEO.

However, Arad Entertainment wasn’t yet equipped with such high-level personnel or a systematic structure. This wasn’t just the case for the entertainment division; most subsidiaries were in the same boat.

“The Chairman has made the first episode perfect, so we can start working from the second episode onward. In the meantime, I’ll prepare for mass printing this comic before the second episode is ready.”

“Excellent. Proceed right away. If necessary, use my name.”

Thankfully, our Kanu division president, though passive, seemed capable of understanding instructions.

After finishing my directives to Kanu, I turned to Petro, who was standing nearby, to give additional orders.

“If Arad Entertainment requests cooperation, comply fully.”

“Understood. But... until when should this continue?”

“Got it.”

I couldn’t help but ponder whether I should consider relocating Petro to a different role later, given his incessant questioning.

We’d hired him because of his background as a former bureaucrat, but his overly principled and rigid nature seemed frustratingly inflexible at times.

‘Then again, such a strict disposition might actually be necessary for now. Let’s see how things go until the media system is fully established.’

With that, I decided to hold off on making any hasty judgments.

Petro’s inflexible traits weren’t entirely a liability.

His unwavering adherence to journalistic ethics and media principles made him a reliable figure. I concluded that it might be better to serialize my comic initially for promotional purposes and then transition it elsewhere.

“Director Teo.”

“Yes, Chairman.”

Having relayed the instructions to the executives of Arad Entertainment and Arad Media, I then called upon Director Teo, whom I hadn’t seen in a while.

“How’s your wife these days?”

“She’s doing great! Recently, we found out she’s expecting our second child.”

“Oh! Really? Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

Hearing this unexpected good news, I couldn’t help but think of Arina.

‘It’s a relief she’s not here to hear this.’

After briefly offering my congratulations, I moved on to the main topic.

“How’s the ‘Morning of Arcadia’ that your wife runs?”

“It’s doing very well. It’s consistently competing with Arad Post for the top spot.”

At Teo’s words, I noticed Petro flinching slightly.

“That’s impressive.”

Currently, Renslet has a total of seven newspapers in addition to the Arad Post.

Due to the current limitations of transportation, communication, and production, these newspapers were only published once every three days. However, since their publishing schedules varied, it effectively meant that our Renslet received news every day. 𝙍𝖆ℕƟＢЕＳ

“Tell her to serialize this in the Morning of Arcadia.”

I had prepared more than just comics on my way to the High Tower.

“This is... a novel?”

“Save reading it for later. For now, convey the key points of today’s meeting to your wife along with this novel. She’s smart, so she’ll understand right away.”

“This writing... Did you write it yourself, Chairman?”

It seemed Teo had briefly skimmed through the lengthy manuscript I handed him.

“Carriage rides tend to get dull. I wrote this as a way to kill time.”

“......”

At my nonchalant response, Teo looked momentarily dumbfounded, as if thinking, How could this possibly be something written out of boredom?

“‘Knight Rom’ and ‘Witch Julia’... This isn’t based on a true story, is it?”

“Would it be? It’s entirely fictional, though the setting is loosely based on our Renslet.”

Of course, the content wasn’t entirely original.

I had plagiarized several well-known works from Earth.

Specifically, this one was inspired by Romeo and Juliet.

Still, I hadn’t just copy-pasted it outright. I’d put some effort into adapting it to fit the cultural norms and aesthetics of this world.

‘I never thought my MAX-level skills would include writing and creative storytelling.’

The body I now inhabit, Arad’s, was essentially ChatGPT incarnate.

When I fed my mind the broad concepts and plots of stories I had read or heard on Earth, they were instantly restructured and localized into fully-formed works.

Afterward, I simply transcribed the vivid imagery and ideas that appeared in my head.

“Let me know once this serialized novel is completed. I’ll provide the next one then. Ah! Use the pen name Meteor for publishing.”

“Pardon? Yes, understood!”

When it comes to novels, using a pseudonym is a universal rule.

I based the pen name Meteor on my original name from Earth, Jin Yuseong.

“Well, even if I don’t provide a new work, your wife is more than capable of sourcing popular novels from across the continent.”

“Hahaha.”

Honestly, it would’ve been great to serialize this novel in Arad Post as well.@@novelbin@@

But mutual growth was important.

And Maria wasn’t exactly a stranger.

Not only was she the wife of our group’s general affairs director, but her media company, Morning of Arcadia, was effectively a subsidiary of Arad Holdings, with over 70% of its shares owned by us.

In this situation, letting Arad Post monopolize everything without prior discussion would be a perfect recipe for internal conflict.

“Well then! The urgent instructions are done, so get back to your work.”

“Yes, we’ll proceed with the Chairman’s directives immediately.”

“You must be tired after your long journey, Chairman. Please get some rest.”

As always, I had prepared everything for them—ingredient prep, cooking, plating, and even spoon-fed them the finished product.

If they still failed to swallow it, I could only interpret it as deliberate sabotage driven by malice.

They knew that too, so they’d work hard.

“But Chairman, where is Lady Mary?”

After the emergency call and the meeting had ended, Teo asked me this question before heading off to his wife’s newspaper office.

“She went straight to the High Tower.”

“...?”

My blunt reply made Director Teo tilt his head in confusion.

“Did the two of you... have a fight?”

He likely wasn’t oblivious to the rumors circulating lately—that my relationship with Mary wasn’t what it used to be.

“Stop with the nonsense and get back to your work.”

I chuckled and waved him off.

***

A golden carriage raced through the inner district of the High Tower.

Two flags fluttered atop the carriage. On the right, a white winter hawk, the symbol of the Grand Ducal family, was drawn against a pale blue background. On the left, a golden carriage on a black background represented Arad Group.

This was the carriage Mary had taken separately from Jin County to the High Tower.

Ordinarily, when Mary assumed her “Mary Mode,” Arina and Arad would share the same carriage.

But this time was different. Her insistence on maintaining distance had led to them traveling in separate carriages.

This will surely solidify the rumors spreading across Renslet—that not only Arina but also Mary and Arad have grown apart.

That would do just fine. Just fine.

Now, Arad would be free to meet other women without needing to tiptoe around anyone’s gaze.

With a bitter smile, she turned her attention to the view outside the window.

Even in the short time she’d been away, the High Tower had visibly progressed.

“We’ve arrived, Lady Mary.”

The golden carriage, which had confidently coursed through the High Tower, came to a halt near the Palace of Glory, close to the inner sanctum.

Moments later, the carriage door opened, and Mary stepped out, her striking white hair and ash-gray eyes leaving a lasting impression.

The knights and soldiers guarding the palace showed no reaction to her presence, knowing her status as the Grand Duke’s illegitimate child—or so they believed.

Once she had exited the carriage and moved to a blind spot away from prying eyes, Mary transformed into Arina.

The process was so smooth and natural that it didn’t feel awkward at all.

She meticulously reverted to her original appearance, adjusting every detail of her outfit and demeanor.

Then, with purposeful strides, she made her way toward the throne room.

“Her Highness, the Grand Duke, arrives!”

The white throne in the chamber was empty.

Isabelle, having been informed of her arrival beforehand, hadn’t cast any welcome illusions.

Instead, Sun stood silently beside the white throne, as if standing guard.

Balzac must be managing things well back in Jin County, Arina thought to herself.

Balzac had escorted her as far as the High Tower but had returned to Jin County shortly after, as the project underway there was as critical as Arina’s safety.

Tap, tap, tap.

In the otherwise silent throne room, the soft sound of Arina’s footsteps echoed faintly.

- Mary, make sure to organize what I’m about to say and relay it to Her Highness, the Grand Duke.

As she approached the white throne, Arina recalled the conversation she’d had with Arad before leaving Jin County.

- The current problems in the North... Novels and comics alone won’t cut it—not even close. We need larger-scale entertainment and luxury industries. For that, the High Tower’s support is indispensable.

- Mary, deliver this message clearly and thoroughly to Her Highness. If it succeeds, it will become a lucrative source of income for the High Tower.

Seated on the white throne, Arina mulled over Arad’s brilliant business proposal before turning to address the assembled ministers.

“How many top-grade horses do we currently have in the High Tower?”

Her ash-gray eyes gleamed with the currency symbol of Renslet, reflecting her sharp, calculating intent.

***

Wealth significantly reduces illiteracy, which some call enlightenment.

The northern Renslet stood at the forefront of this enlightenment.

Children these days were universally taught to read, write, and perform calculations.

Even illiterate adults were learning—whether in workplaces, military camps, or weekly village meetings—how to read, write, and calculate.

But no matter how much one learned, it would all be forgotten if not put to use.

Advancements in printing, papermaking, and magical engineering ensured that Northerners couldn’t forget what they’d worked so hard to learn.

This was accomplished through newspapers.

In a world devoid of other forms of entertainment, even those who hated studying would read newspapers for updates on current events.

Newspapers had become a cultural phenomenon in Renslet, one that transcended age, gender, and social status.

For this reason, newspapers were the perfect medium to promote and familiarize the public with new content like comics.

***

In a small village within Shuen, a retired soldier named Stein lived. He had served as an elite soldier in the High Tower for over 15 years, participated in three extreme northern expeditions, and finally retired after being injured during the Great Wall Siege.

Today, Stein walked to the village market with half a copper coin in hand.

The weather, straddling late summer and early autumn, was pleasantly cool, with bright sunshine—by Northern standards, at least.

The marketplace, unimaginable just a few years ago, was now overflowing with goods.

Potatoes, meat, dried fruits, and Arad’s salt—products grown and harvested within Renslet—greeted him first.

Next came Imperial wheat, available at affordable prices.

Ceramics, clothing, and magical tools produced by the Arad Group were also scattered throughout the market.

But Stein passed all these items without a second glance.

Unlike women who might browse the stalls out of curiosity for new products, Stein was a retired soldier.

For him, the mission came first. Once a target was identified, nothing else mattered.

“Hey, Stein!”

“How’s business?”

“Same as always.”

Stein stopped at a stall brimming with newspapers and other publications.

“Here you go.”

“Running an errand for your wife, I see?”

“Ahem!”

As always, he handed over a half-cut 1-copper coin to the merchant running the newspaper stand.

Half a copper coin was more than enough to buy all the newspapers published that day. Usually, the purchased newspapers would be shared among coworkers or family members.

“Here’s the Arad Post, Morning of Arcadia, and...”

“I’ve already set aside Renslet’s Breeze and Northern Wind’s Sound from yesterday and the day before, along with Light of the High Tower.”

“Ah, you’re always on top of things.”

“You’ve been coming by every three days like clockwork. If I couldn’t remember that, I’d have no business running this stall.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Not at all.”

To combat illiteracy and promote public enlightenment, the High Tower and Arad Group had established newspaper outlets in most villages throughout Renslet.

Thanks to the devoted support of the government and private sector, it was now easy and affordable to purchase newspapers from various publishers in even the remotest villages.

“By the way, this issue of the Arad Post and the Morning of Arcadia is particularly entertaining.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely! I’d bet my stall that boys will go crazy over the Arad Post, and girls won’t be able to get enough of the Morning of Arcadia.”

“What’s in them that’s so special?”

“You’ll see when you read them at home.”

“Fair enough.”

Perplexed by the merchant’s cryptic words, Stein tilted his head but turned to leave. Once again, he didn’t spare a glance at the other market goods.

After all, his mission from his wife was clear: Buy the newspapers and bring them home.

“I’m back.”

As soon as he stepped through the door, Stein announced his return, more out of habit than anything else.

His greeting was met with silence. The house was empty.

His first and second children had moved to the city for work, while his third and fourth were attending boarding school there. His fifth child, only seven years old, was likely at the village school at this hour.

The only thing that greeted him was the silent portrait of Her Highness, the Grand Duke, clad in knightly armor, hanging on the wall.

Hmm...

Glancing at the food prepared in the kitchen, Stein placed the newspapers on the dining table.

The meal was simple but hearty: potato and meat stew seasoned with Arad salt, bread, and dried fruit.

While there was no steam rising, the pot containing the stew and bread was still warm, suggesting his wife had prepared the meal not long ago.

Did she say she was starting work at the village hall today?

His wife was likely at the village hall by now. Stein recalled that the local clergy had recruited volunteers to help prepare for the upcoming village festival.

In truth, the “work” mainly consisted of village women gathering to chat, rehearse songs and plays, and perform during the festival. It was also an excuse to indulge in rare, luxurious meals.

Clatter, clatter.

Stein ladled some stew into a porcelain bowl, placed bread on a plate, and set it all on the table before unfolding a newspaper.

His right arm, moving as he opened the paper, was noticeably unusual.

Its color was yellowish, with muscles, veins, and skin texture that differed starkly from his left arm.

Unlike his left hand, which naturally held a spoon, the movements of his right hand were sluggish and awkward.

It was a stark reminder of why he had retired from the military.

Despite the injuries that had cost him his job, Stein’s expression showed no signs of worry.

His life was far removed from poverty.

In fact, Stein exuded a sense of comfort.

Thanks to the North’s prosperity, the pension paid to disabled veterans like him had increased.

His children’s education was free, and the prices of clothing and food were strictly regulated by the High Tower and Arad Group.

Even if he fell ill or was injured, he could receive free treatment at hospitals run by the clergy.

Because of this, Stein and his wife could live comfortably, relying solely on his pension and occasional odd jobs.

What could be in it that’s so special?

Reading the newspaper during meals was one of Stein’s few pleasures.

Recalling the merchant’s earlier words, he decided to start with the Arad Post.

“?!”

As he unfolded the paper, his eyes widened in surprise.

The pages were filled with vibrant, elaborate illustrations of a kind he had never seen before.