Chapter 86: 86 Negotiation

Chapter 86: Negotiation

Compared to the warrior of the Green Bamboo Tribe, Jennie and Horn, the leaders of the Purple Fruit Tribe, were clearly far more prudent.

They revealed no hostility or resistance—especially after Erin returned to them unharmed—and warmly invited Ronin into their stronghold.

Ronin, witnessing this, knew that this time, force would not be necessary to bring the Purple Fruit Tribe to submission.

Such a victory without battle was the most economical in time and effort.

As chieftains, Jennie and Horn’s dwelling was relatively spacious—though humble, it was fully functional, with a parlor, bedroom, kitchen, and two servants.

After a lengthy conversation, both sides gained a basic understanding of each other’s backgrounds.

Jennie Frank’s father had been a viscount of the Orland Empire; after the empire’s fragmentation, he pledged allegiance to the Trisicia family—only to find himself on the wrong side when the north fell to the Auduin clan.

The Wushan family had been ordered to crush opposing nobles, and Jennie’s father, Gerviet Frank, had been driven into the northern woods during battle.

In truth, most wild tribes traced their origins this way.

Over the years, fleeing nobles had dwindled to near extinction; leaders of viscountly lineage like Jennie were almost unheard of.

Knight Horn had once been a professional knight in service to the Frank family. Amid countless escapes, he and Jennie had grown close, eventually marrying and bearing a daughter, Erin.

To preserve the Frank bloodline, they had both agreed that Erin would bear the Frank surname.

Should they perish in the tribal wars to come, Erin would carry forward the Frank legacy—even if it had long since sunk into obscurity.

“I’ve heard from Woton and Dandi that you wish for me and Horn to submit the Purple Fruit Tribe to you.”

In the modest parlor, Jennie’s family sat facing Ronin. It was clear that though Horn was her husband, Jennie was the true voice of the tribe.

“If we submit, what will you do with us?”

Jennie’s demeanor was poised and graceful, effortless and refined—no doubt the mark of a viscount’s household upbringing.

Ronin cut straight to the point: “I will grant you legal status. From the moment you pledge loyalty to me, you need never fear being hunted as ‘remnants’ and thrown into prison—or sold into slavery.”

He turned his gaze to the girl beside them, Erin, whose large eyes blinked curiously. “You said Erin awakened her magical space on her thirteenth birthday, becoming a novice mage.”

“A novice mage at thirteen—such talent, if trapped in this wilderness, would be a tragedy.”

Thirteen and already a novice mage—Erin’s potential was immense.

Though still young, she had already captured Ronin’s attention. His courteous demeanor toward Jennie and Horn was, in part, inspired by this remarkably gifted child.

“With legal status, Erin may step beyond these woods. If she follows me, she will one day become a powerful mage.”

Jennie and Horn exchanged a glance—each saw the tremor in the other’s eyes.

For years, they had longed to leave this land, yet never found a way.

Even when they dared to sneak out, they moved cautiously, avoiding all unnecessary contact.

Especially in the past two years, conflicts between wild tribes had grown fiercer, and they could no longer sustain the growth of the Purple Fruit Tribe.

Without intervention, their tribe would soon be swallowed by the Ash Soil Tribe—or the Black Collar Tribe—and then they would be utterly powerless.

Now, Ronin’s arrival offered them a second choice—the best possible one.

From Jennie and Horn’s perspective, this young noble had already absorbed the Green Bamboo Tribe and was about to claim theirs. He would surely turn next to Ash Soil and Black Collar—and he stood a very good chance of succeeding.

Moreover, he was of the Wushan bloodline, a noble of the highest rank in Wushan territory.

To follow him now was unquestionably the wisest path.

Jennie suppressed her thoughts and pressed on: “Then, Lord Ronin, what would you require of us?”

Ronin smiled faintly. Clearly, they were nearly convinced.

“There is much I will need from you—and I make no secret of it.”

He said: “Administration, construction, defense, expansion—I will rely on you in all these matters. As mid-tier practitioners, you possess considerable strength. And when the time comes, you—especially you, Knight Horn—I will need you to lead the charge.”

Horn nodded inwardly. A knight’s duty was precisely this.

“Furthermore, the rest of the Purple Fruit Tribe will recognize me as their lord. You will no longer hold authority over them.”

“These people, though initially my captives, my slaves, I guarantee I will not sell them abroad. And if they serve me for ten years, I will grant them land and elevate their status to serfs or free tenants.”

Jennie frowned slightly. “And what of our status?”

If they too were slaves, she could not accept it—not after being raised in a viscount’s house.

Ronin smiled. “You, Knight Horn, and Erin are exempt. I shall treat you as free citizens, and pay you wages commensurate with your worth.”

At this, Jennie and Horn looked at each other, then nodded slowly. They accepted.

Rising together, they stepped forward and knelt on one knee before Ronin. “Respected Baron, accept our fealty.”

Beside them, Erin, startled, fumbled awkwardly.

She still hadn’t grasped what had happened. She had only meant to offer him a white fruit—how had her parents suddenly adopted such solemn ceremony?

With no choice, she mimicked them, dropping to one knee. “Accept my fealty~”

“Good!”

Ronin laughed. “I accept your fealty, Lady Jennie, Knight Horn, and Erin.”

He stepped forward and helped them rise.

“Lord Ronin, I’ll go ask Aunt Moa to make you some white fruit!”

Erin, still a child of thirteen, shed her stiffness as the mood lightened, her true nature bubbling forth.

“I’m curious—what does a ‘white fruit’ look like? Could you show me one?”

“Of course! I’ll get it right away!”

Erin dashed off toward another room.

Watching their daughter skip away, Jennie and Horn exchanged a quiet, warm smile.

Now, they could walk freely beyond these woods—at last.

“Lord!”

Jennie turned to Ronin, her expression grave. “If you wish to conquer the Ash Soil Tribe, I have a plan—it may save you great effort.”

Ronin was startled, studying the unremarkable woman before him, yet radiating the unmistakable aura of a chieftain. “Speak.”

Jennie glanced at Horn, who seemed to know what was coming, and gave a slight nod.

But just as she opened her mouth to reveal her plan—

Erin bounced back in, thrusting a white fruit into Ronin’s hands.

“Lord, this is the white fruit! Peel it first, then fry the kernel inside—it’s delicious!”

Ronin stared at the white “fruit” in his palm—and froze.

“This is—”

This was no fruit at all.

(This chapter ends)