Chapter 143: 143 Motto of the Iron Hoof Family

Chapter 143: The Maxim of the Ironhoof Family

This was Tom’s second time in Horsepasture City.

He did not know the exact location of the Ironhoof family’s castle, but that was no great difficulty.

The townsfolk and merchants bustling along the main street, seeing Tom dressed as a knight atop a towering steed, were more than happy to point him in the right direction.

The Ironhoof castle sat atop a hill in the northwest corner.

It loomed large and majestic, dominating the entire peak like a slumbering beast.

As Tom drew nearer, he noticed deep grooves carved into the outer walls—ancient green stone bearing the weight of centuries, whispering of forgotten eras.

“Halt!”

A guard stepped forward the moment he spotted a stranger approaching the castle road.

Tom dismounted with grace and presented his visiting scroll with polite formality.

“Sir Guard, I am a retainer of Baron Ronin of Woodland Village. My lord wishes to pay a visit to the Viscount. Here is his letter of introduction.”

Baron Ronin?

The guard had never heard of such a noble, but as a sentinel of the Viscount’s household, he maintained his decorum. “Sir Knight, please wait a moment. I shall inform my lord at once.”

Deep within the castle, Viscount Marwen was reviewing his inventory list—jade, crystal carvings, gemstones—all costly treasures.

These were his birthday gifts for Rulans.

Indeed, many nobles of the Wushan domain arrived today at Wushan Castle bearing gifts—not only to offer their congratulations, but also as tribute, as tax.

“Master.”

The steward’s voice came softly from the doorway.

Marwen glanced up. “Alphonse? What is it?”

Alphonse entered and offered a parchment scroll. “My lord, a masked knight awaits at the gate. He claims to be a retainer of Baron Ronin of Woodland Village, bearing his lord’s letter of visitation.”

“Oh?”

Marwen paused, then took the scroll and unrolled it. The message was brief—only an expression of intent to call. The signature read: Ronin Wushan.

Marwen fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Where is Rogner?”

“Rogner should be at the stables, selecting mounts for the caravan,” Alphonse replied.

“Have Rogner accompany the knight who delivered the scroll to fetch Baron Ronin. And prepare the evening banquet—on the scale befitting a viscount.”

Alphonse blinked in surprise. Such elevated hospitality was rare indeed.

“As you command, my lord!” He bowed deeply and withdrew.

...

Meanwhile, Ronin had concluded his negotiations at the Serpent Exchange.

For the thousand slaves, Anthony proposed the same rate as last time: 160 gold per hundred, totaling 1,600 gold.

Ronin, invoking their long-standing partnership, engaged in amicable haggling.

But the price had already been squeezed once before; further reductions were minimal, for the merchants still bore the cost of escorting them to Woodland Village.

In the end, they settled at 1,499 gold.

Through this deal, Ronin realized just how effortlessly Rulans had handed over three thousand gold last time.

After leaving the Serpent Exchange, Ronin visited the Silva Magic Guild and sold the spell scrolls crafted by Elron.

Previously, he had purchased materials from Hook sufficient to produce fifty-five healing scrolls.

Over the past two months, Elron had successfully completed fifty.

Ronin kept half in Woodland Village and Grey Soil Village as reserve, and sold the other half for 425 gold.

He then restocked the same quantity of materials, spending 495 gold.

Thus, his net expenditure at the Silva Magic Guild amounted to only seventy gold.

Had he sold every completed healing scroll, he might have turned a profit.

But keeping so many in reserve was preparation for the coming battles—if casualties mounted, Elron’s magic would not sustain repeated healing spells.

Ronin had even considered purchasing materials to craft third-tier spell scrolls.

But he abandoned the notion upon realizing that too rapid an upgrade in his domain’s mages might draw unwanted attention from beyond.

And even if he wished to buy, he would not do so here—every sizable city had similar guilds.

Under Hook’s effusive farewell, Ronin exited the Silva Magic Guild and returned to the tavern where he had dined before, waiting for Tom.

An hour passed.

Ronin had not expected others to follow Tom.

“Ronin! Long time no see!”

“Indeed, Rogner.”

Ronin smiled and shook his hand. “Why are you here with Tom?”

“My father sent me to welcome you.”

Rogner beamed with enthusiasm. “Come, come—the Ironhoof Castle is already preparing the banquet. Tonight, we drink deeply!”

“Excellent!”

Ronin smiled.

Viscount Marwen Ironhoof had been personally recommended to Ronin by Rulans—said to be the man who could sell the armor and weapons forged by the Ironwood Workshop.

Thus, Ronin had come not only to purchase horses for his knightly contingent, but also to explore potential collaboration.

After all, future exports would not be limited to Ironwood’s wares—silk and porcelain must also find markets beyond the domain.

Ronin’s lands had no merchant caravans.

But the Ironhoof family’s horse trade spanned countless cities across Wushan and beyond, with a mature commercial network.

He could easily leverage their channels.

Yet he had not anticipated Marwen’s warmth—so much so that Rogner himself had come to greet him.

It was Rogner who had delivered Tachyun to Woodland Village last time.

And now, again, it was Rogner.

Did Marwen keep sending him because their names began with similar sounds?

Under Rogner’s escort, Ronin toured Horsepasture City.

Compared to the barren Woodland Village, this place teemed with diversions—gambling dens, brothels, circuses, dance halls, racetracks, arenas, gladiatorial pits—all available.

Ronin gave only polite assent to Rogner’s invitations.

Truth be told, these amusements held little allure for him. If ever truly bored, he might visit the latter venues.

Soon, the party entered Ironhoof Castle.

Compared to Wushan Castle, this fortress felt older, worn.

Ronin knew the Ironhoofs had ample funds to restore it.

Yet they had not.

Perhaps it was a statement of heritage.

But within the inner keep, the surroundings grew refined indeed.

“Ronin, please wait here a moment—I shall inform my father.”

Rogner led him to the reception hall, then hurried to the rear courtyard to find Viscount Marwen.

Ronin glanced around the room. Compared to the antiquity outside, this parlor was anything but worn—it was, in fact, much like Ushan Castle, adorned with numerous magic crystals.

In the backyard, Lord Marven’s study.

“Father, I’ve seated Ronin in the parlor.”

Marven set down the stack of papers in his hands. “How did he strike you this time?”

“Similar to last time—he’s nothing like the legends. I deliberately took him past a brothel and introduced him to several beauties, but he seemed utterly uninterested.”

Rognar replied, “Though there was one difference: compared to last time, I feel Ronin has grown stronger?”

“Ha! He’s still growing, after all.”

Marven chuckled. “I heard from the Caine Hold that Rayson was defeated this time by another knight under Ronin’s command—named Riddal. Is he here today?”

“No. His bodyguard is still that fellow named Macken. I’ve also seen the masked knight—his name is Tom.”

“A pity,” Marven sighed. “I was hoping to witness Riddal’s strength, to see just how formidable a high-rank knight must be to best a bronze knight.”

He turned his gaze to his second son. “Rognar, what is our family motto?”

Rognar froze, puzzled by the sudden question, yet answered earnestly: “Choice is sometimes more important than strength.”

Marven nodded. “Our family has weathered countless storms—even once teetering on the brink of extinction. Yet we endure. Time and again, it was this motto that guided us to the right choice.”

He fixed his eyes on his son. “What if I told you to follow Ronin?”

(End of Chapter)