Chapter 119: 119 Wilson's Grievances

Chapter 119: Wilson’s Complaints

After Browning’s detailed explanation, Ronin gained considerable insight into the art of taming beasts.

Generally, the methods of taming involve a combination of five techniques: starvation, endurance, beating, reward, and training.

For beasts with weak willpower, a single fast followed by a morsel of food, repeated several times, is often enough to break their spirit—then, with consistent training over two or three generations, a gentle pet emerges.

But for ferocious beasts, it is far more difficult. Not only are they violent-tempered, but most possess considerable intelligence.

Some would rather starve to death than swallow even a scrap of food thrown by a human. To subdue such creatures, one must rely on auxiliary tools—perhaps a Beast Bond Scroll—to forge a master-servant bond at the soul level.

Yet the storm wolf pup Ronin had acquired was different. First, it had not spent much time beside its mother; second, it was so tiny its eyes had not yet opened.

In the world of beast-taming, there is an unspoken rule: a cub forms an indelible impression of the first living being it sees upon opening its eyes.

Thus, Browning advised Ronin to spend as much time as possible with the pup in the coming days, ensuring that the first face the creature beheld would be his own.

He also cautioned Ronin: once the pup’s eyes opened, he must act with warmth and familiarity, interacting with gentle, kind, and patient demeanor, minimizing disturbances as much as possible.

Once trust was established, reinforcement through training and discipline would naturally solidify Ronin’s role as master.

After all, the storm wolf was still a wolf. If humans could tame wild wolves into dogs, then surely they could tame storm wolves into “magic dogs.”

After bidding farewell to the beast-tamer, Ronin spent a little more time playing with the pup alongside Elin.

“Can we give it a name, brother?” Elin murmured, gently stroking the pup’s head—as if another companion had just joined them in the Forest Town.

At first, the pup had resisted being touched, but now, after so many caresses, it merely grumbled softly, without any sign of defiance.

Ronin thought for a moment. “It’s all black fur. Let’s call it ‘Little Black.’”

“Little Black?”

Elin tilted her head, pondering. “Brother, can’t we pick something more majestic? ‘Little Black’ sounds so weak. What about ‘Black Tiger’?”

“My father says tiger beasts are all incredibly powerful!”

“Black Tiger works too,” Ronin chuckled. “It does have a tiger-like head—fitting.”

“Heehee, Black Tiger, Black Tiger~”

Amid Elin’s joyful calls, the manservant Garen knocked again. “My lord, Magistrate Wilson has arrived. He wishes to report something to you.”

“Show him to my study.”

Ronin patted Black Tiger’s tiny head, left Elin to play with it, and stepped out of the makeshift pet chamber.

“Your Grace, it’s been too long!”

In the study, Wilson greeted Ronin with warm enthusiasm.

“It has been a while, Wilson. How are the craftsmen’s quarters coming along?” Ronin asked.

“My lord, though we’ve been building wooden huts nonstop for two months, the number of people you’ve brought is considerable—and they’re all renowned artisans. Providing each with a private room is proving difficult.”

Ronin nodded, frowning in thought.

“My promise was to provide shelter. If space is limited at first, multiple artisans may share a room. Later, when we expand, I’ll honor my word and give them individual quarters. Most came in groups anyway—they won’t mind sharing.”

These people were not guests. They were workers. Entrepreneurs.

A roof over their heads was all Ronin owed them—not luxury.

“Oh, by the way—place Master Dann in the Outer Fortress. And give the potter Jim better accommodations.”

Master Dann was vital to the loom’s construction; Jim, to porcelain. Both would become pillars of Forest Town’s future industry. Showing them extra courtesy, especially Dann, was no excess.

Wilson committed their names to memory. To be singled out by the lord himself meant something extraordinary.

Next, Ronin outlined the work assignments for these artisans.

The carpenters could be assigned to the Ironwood Workshop—its new shed was spacious enough to accommodate them.

The two new masons and five apprentices would join the construction crew, preparing for future population growth.

The blacksmiths, however, posed a problem—Kallus’s forge was too small to house them all.

Forest Town needed a new blacksmithy.

Ronin considered, then said: “The day after tomorrow—morning—gather all the artisans at the Forest Fortress. Summon Kallus, William, and the others.”

“Understood, my lord. I’ll notify everyone tomorrow.”

Wilson jotted everything down. “My lord, we’ve sown the cabbage using your ridge-farming method and applied the urine fertilizer as instructed. After over a month, the growth is excellent. Would you have time to inspect it?”

The first crop planted in Forest Town using Ronin’s method had been cabbage. Two months had passed—it had indeed matured.

Chahar, standing quietly nearby, added: “My lord, according to Masin’s report, several piles of manure at the fertilizer site have turned black, as you described, and no longer emit odor. I went to check—your standards are met. When would you like to inspect them?”

Ronin nodded. “Then tomorrow. First, the fertilizer site, then the cabbage fields. Oh, Wilson—have you planned the experimental plots?”

Wilson nodded. “My lord, with the assistance of the four village heads, I’ve set aside ten acres in each village.”

Forty acres in total—dedicated solely to wheat cultivation.

Ronin intended to cultivate them meticulously, selecting only the largest, fullest ears as seed stock—while simultaneously testing the fertilizer’s efficacy.

To obtain superior seed, he saw no other way.

As for the other wheat fields, Ronin had instructed each village head and group leader to begin collecting dry branches and dead foliage before spring plowing, burning them into ash fertilizer, applying minimal manure, and ensuring proper irrigation and weeding.

No more relying on “the Seven Gods’ blessing” to grow grain.

The conversation lasted a long while—mostly Wilson and Chahar reporting on Forest Town’s recent developments, Ronin asking questions.

Overall, agriculture was progressing as Ronin had envisioned. The only lingering issue: manpower.

When he returned, Ronin had considered detouring to Horse Pasture City to purchase slaves. But winter loomed. Transporting so many would be perilous, and Forest Town lacked sufficient housing. He abandoned the idea.

“My lord…”

Wilson hesitated, as if he wished to speak but dared not.

Ronin smiled. “Wilson, your work has been excellent. Speak your mind freely.”

Emboldened, Wilson said: “My lord… could you assign me an assistant?”

He hurried to explain: “For agricultural matters, the village heads and group leaders assist me—I manage easily. But regarding slave labor, logging, and construction… I cannot keep up alone.”

When he first applied for the position of magistrate, Wilson never imagined it would be so exhausting. After all, his predecessor, Prinst, had seemed idle.

But since serving Ronin, Wilson had not slept properly.

He cherished the warm respect from village heads, group leaders, and townsfolk. He relished the busyness—and the fruits of labor. Yet the lord’s entourage grew larger, tasks multiplied, and he could no longer bear the burden alone.

His ordinary riding horse was nearly worn to death from daily gallops.

Ronin nodded slowly.

“I understand your situation. Forest Town’s affairs multiply daily. It is too much for one man.”

“One assistant won’t suffice.”

After all, three villages—Green Bamboo, Purple Berry, and Ash Soil—still lacked magistrates. Ronin needed Wilson to train a few deputies.

Very well, I’ll give you five slots—go into town and recruit five assistant clerks. Each will earn about three copper coins a day in wages; preferably literate, but if not, assign them other tasks.

Wilson’s eyes widened in stunned delight.

He had only asked for one assistant, yet the lord had granted him five at once.

“My lord, you are far too generous!”

Ronin chuckled. He had money now; five assistant clerks amounted to only five gold coins per year—nothing significant.

“Have them learn well under you. If they perform admirably, I shall assign them to serve as clerks in the three northern villages. At that time, Wilson, I shall promote you to ‘Chief Clerk,’ overseeing all administrative affairs for all seven villages of Woodland Town.”

“And your salary will increase accordingly,” he added.

Chief Clerk was a bureaucratic title he had invented—ranked one level above clerk.

Hearing this, Wilson’s eyes gleamed, and all his recent weariness vanished in an instant.

He had long sensed the extraordinary nature of this lord.

Though now trapped in Woodland Town as merely a minor baron, Wilson believed that one day, Ronin would surely leave.

He had feared that should the lord depart from Woodland Town, he himself might be left behind, forever bound to this small town as its clerk.

But now, with these words, the lord signaled that Wilson too might one day walk beside Ronin beyond these woods, into a wider world, to carve out his own destiny.

“My lord, rest assured—Wilson will never fail to live up to your expectations!”

(End of Chapter)