Chapter 149: 149 Giving Gifts

Chapter 149. Gift-Giving

Gray Soil Village.

With the first-ever Knight and Guard Competition of Mountain Forest Town concluded, Ridal began organizing operations against the Black Collar Tribe.

As the most powerful of the wild tribes, the Black Collar’s fortifications far surpassed those of Gray Soil Village; a direct assault would likely result in heavy casualties.

But Ridal had a plan. Starting on the twenty-fourth, he dispatched cavalry across the demarcation line straight toward the heart of the Black Collar Tribe. When the enemy responded by sending their own horsemen to intercept, he ordered his riders to wheel around and retreat immediately.

“Captain, look—they’re back again!”

On a hillside, Urai, one of Philiton’s knights, pointed at the cavalry galloping along the mountain path, his voice thick with resentment. “Are the people of Gray Soil Village mad? Do they have nothing better to do than ride back and forth here every day after filling their bellies?”

Philiton sneered. “Their blatant violation of the agreement will not go unpunished. Wait until the Baron returns from Ushan Castle—we’ll settle accounts with that Ronin.”

“And what do we do in the meantime? Let them cross the line every single day?” another knight asked.

Philiton fell into thought. He didn’t know what they were up to, but he would not permit enemies to brazenly trespass onto Sain’s territory.

“Take a few riders,” he ordered. “Intercept them.”

“Since we’ve nothing better to do, let’s play along. Let’s see what tricks they’ve got up their sleeves.”

Thus began a comical dance of chase and retreat along the border.

Ridal and Elron sat atop their horses on the hill where the scouts’ camp stood, watching the two groups darting across the land.

“Will this actually work?” Elron asked, uncertain.

Ridal said nothing. Originally, he had planned to lure Joffrey out for a conversation—but the Black Collar had changed leadership.

“For now, let these cavalrymen practice their horsemanship. On the first, we’ll bring the big ones. We’ll provoke them repeatedly—draw out as many as we can. Better than charging straight in.”

These professional knights, entrenched behind their fortifications, were no easy foes. Mountain Forest Town had trained these cavalrymen at great cost; every life saved mattered.

While Ridal prepared, Ronin’s party finally arrived at Ushan Castle on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth.

Lord Rulans’s birthday was the grandest event in Ushan Territory. The number of nobles who came was staggering; their carriages and supplies had completely blocked the square before the castle gates.

Fortunately, preparations had been made in advance. A vast army of servants, grooms, and inventory clerks stood ready, swiftly unloading the gifts brought by the nobility.

Ronin sniffed the air. The stench of horse sweat mingled with manure was not yet overpowering. After handing his steed, Thundercloud, to Tom, he entered the castle with Macken.

“Lord Ronin, welcome!”

The butler, Holwart, greeted them with deep reverence. “Greetings, Viscount!”

“Long time no see, Holwart.”

Viscount Marwen waved casually. “How many nobles have arrived?”

“Nearly all,” Holwart smiled, ushering them inside. “Lord Ronin, your old quarters remain unchanged. Viscount Marwen’s chambers have been prepared—please follow me.”

Though Ronin had left Ushan Castle to become a lord of his own, he still held a distinct status among the nobility—he retained his own small villa and courtyard within the castle walls.

“I’ll leave you to Uncle Marwen,” Ronin said. “I’ll go see Grandfather.”

“Of course, my lord!”

Holwart chuckled. “Oh, by the way—Miss Mackenney is likely with the Marquis. If you go now, you might encounter her.”

Ronin paused. A vision flashed in his mind: a stunning woman with silver hair.

Mackenney—his full sister, born of the same father and mother. After their mother’s death, it was Mackenney who had cared for him, sheltered him, nurtured him. Their bond had been deep.

Six years ago, she had married Sir Kabir of Glittering City.

Kabir was commander of the Second Knightly Order of Ushan Castle, possessing strength rivaling that of a Golden Knight, with numerous battle honors to his name.

Yet his parents had been mere freemen—common, unremarkable, with no lineage or influence. Despite his prowess, he remained only a knight of title.

Mackenney married him because they had loved freely—and Rulans and Viggins had seen his potential.

Still, it was considered a step down. Many had openly and covertly opposed the match.

Ronin walked familiar paths to the inner courtyard. The guards along the way knew his identity and offered no hindrance.

While waiting for the guard to announce him, a noblewoman in an elegant gown stepped swiftly out.

She wore a pale blue dress, fitted with a corset, cinched at the waist by a lavish belt, jeweled at the neckline.

Upon her head rested a delicate hat adorned with gems and feathers, complementing the glittering necklace that graced her fair neck—radiating opulence and nobility.

“Ronin~”

Mackenney strode forward and pulled him into a warm embrace. “It’s been so long!”

“So long, sister!”

They parted, and Ronin smiled warmly.

Mackenney studied him from head to toe, her eyes bright with satisfaction. “You’ve grown taller. Stronger, too.”

She looked up at him, her gaze misting with concern. “But Mountain Forest Town is so harsh… Can you bear to live there?”

For the first time since his arrival in this world, Ronin felt genuine care.

Mackenney was unlike Rulans—whose emotions were always restrained. Hers were open, raw, unfiltered.

Perhaps, despite the original body’s flaws, blood had not been severed.

“Don’t worry, sister. Mountain Forest Town isn’t as bad as it seems. I’m doing well there.”

He glanced past her to the handsome blond man standing behind her and greeted him with a smile. “Long time no see, Kabir. You still look as dashing as ever.”

Kabir stepped forward. His bearing was refined, not the brute strength of a typical knight. “And you, Ronin—you feel entirely different now.”

To be honest, Kabir had once looked down on Ronin. The man had never acted like a proper heir—especially after losing his inheritance. Kabir had even grown angry.

After all, as Mackenney’s husband, he had assumed he would one day stand beside Ronin. But now, the heir was Breton, and later, Count Hyde—his future uncertain.

Yet Ronin’s recent deeds had begun to shift his opinion.

The three exchanged pleasantries outside, mostly Mackenney fussing over Ronin’s meals, sleep, and daily comforts—like a mother half over.

After a while, under Mosert’s guidance, they entered the chamber.

A hearth blazed warmly inside. Aside from Rulans, no one else was present.

“Ah, Ronin has come.”

Rulans’s face glowed with color, his spirit visibly brighter than before—whether from improved health or the joy of celebration, it was hard to say.

“Grandfather, happy birthday!”

Ronin offered his greeting and took the package from Macken’s hands. “This is my gift for you. I hope you like it.”

“Oh?”

Rulans’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Let me see what it is!”

Mackenney and Kabir turned their gazes toward him.

Ronin unfolded the garment and draped it over Rulans’s shoulders. “A stormwolf’s pelt came to our lands. I had this coat made for you from its hide.”

Rulans ran his fingers over the fur—soft, dense, instantly warming. “Excellent! If you’ve slain a stormwolf, then I no longer fear for your safety in Mountain Forest Town.”

Mackenney stepped forward, inspecting the coat from every angle, marveling at its texture, yet sighing at the peril Ronin faced in his domain.

After all, every territory plagued by demonic incursions—no wonder no one wanted to become its lord in earlier years.

Ronin pulled out a pale blue scarf again. “This is a scarf I crafted from the special thread of Mountain Forest Town. I believe you’ll love it.”

Special thread?

At once, every eye in the hall turned toward him, curious and alert.

“It’s so light and soft!”

Rulans cradled the scarf in his hands, unable to suppress his astonishment.

The sensation it gave him was unlike any other fabric—he felt warmth no less comforting than wool or goose down the moment he draped it around his neck.

McKinney reached out instinctively, and the moment her fingers touched it, her expression softened with delight.

Though it bore no intricate embroidery, she could sense its uniqueness—just a touch of refinement, and it would radiate elegance and nobility.

“What kind of thread is this?”

Ronin smiled as he explained: “It’s woven from silkworm silk. I’ve named it ‘silk.’ Compared to traditional linen or wool, it possesses extraordinary softness, comfort, breathability, and moisture absorption—alongside a luminous sheen and delicate texture. Had I more time, this scarf would be even more opulent and refined.”

His words sounded professional, almost like an explanation—but in truth, they were a quiet advertisement.

The moment they heard him, the group had already classified silk as a luxury textile.

McKinney’s eyes sparkled. “Ronin, I want one of these scarves—no, I want a dress made of this! It must feel so cool in summer!”

“Of course!”

The promotion of silk fabric must begin with the nobility—Ronin had no hesitation in gifting McKinney one.

“But I won’t have new material until August or September. When I do, I’ll make you a stunning dress.”

“What material is it? Can I produce it?” McKinney asked.

“Probably not. Perhaps it’s unique to Mountain Forest Town?”

Ronin wasn’t certain whether mulberry silkworms existed elsewhere—but even if they did, without the knowledge of reeling and processing, no one could handle it.

“I never realized Mountain Forest Town was such a blessed land!”

Rulans chuckled as he tied the silk scarf around his neck, then settled back into his chair, the Stormwolf cloak draped over him.

Though these two gifts paled in monetary value compared to those of other nobles, to him they were more than enough.

Sometimes, people care less about the gift itself than who gives it.

“I heard you have a retainer who defeated a Bronze Knight. Just how many secrets are you hiding from me?”

To be honest, when Ronin told him that Rider Redar had bested Rayson, Rulans had been stunned—he hadn’t expected another formidable knight beneath Ronin’s command, besides Macken.

Had the pigeon lines connected Wushan Castle and Mountain Forest Town, he would have demanded answers long ago.

Beside him, Cabir added, “Though Rayson isn’t particularly strong, he’s still beyond the reach of most high-ranking knights. Did this Redar come with you?”

“Redar has other duties, so I didn’t bring him this time.”

Ronin added, “But his combat skill and strength are truly exceptional. I’ve learned much from him.”

“What a pity,” Rulans suddenly laughed. “If he’d come, he might have won the tournament.”

“A tournament is part of the birthday banquet?” Ronin blinked.

“Of course! To make Grandfather’s celebration more lively.”

McKinney grinned. “Anyone under thirty can enter. The champion gets a thousand gold coins at once. Many knights have been training hard since they heard the news.”

Ronin’s eyes gleamed.

Why did it feel as though old Lord Rulans was deliberately handing him money?