66: Chapter 63: The Gift 66: Chapter 63: The Gift “…Alright.”

Ian’s ears twitched as he turned around to see Teacher Hiliad’s attempt at a mysterious expression, temporarily unclear as to what sort of surprise his teacher had for him that warranted such secrecy.

With a mixture of curiosity and expectation, he returned to his room, only to see a pile of black on his bed.

A black shirt.

“This is…”

Surprised, Ian stepped forward, picked it up, and examined it, “Made for me?”

The black shirt wasn’t entirely new but a repaired version of his old clothing, which had suffered several damages, now fixed with materials and leather the likes of which he couldn’t identify.

But frankly speaking, this so-called repair was barely any different from making a new set outright.

Practically all key parts, damaged areas, and seams were stitched with brand new leather.

Although it looked patched up, similar to the clothing children with patches wore, the texture was extremely tough, and Ian thought that even a knife couldn’t easily cut or pierce through it.

Yet it was also incredibly light, as soft as cashmere.

“Is this the material from Teacher’s cape?!”

Ian had an excellent memory and within seconds he recalled where he had seen such leather material.

It was the black cape Teacher Hiliad had worn when they first met… Yes, he hadn’t seen him wear it since after Hiliad disguised himself as Ossenna.

To think that Hiliad had cut it up and used it to repair his clothes…

His expression slightly moved, Ian silently gazed at the black shirt in his hands.

The shirt was a bit large, hanging somewhat loose on him, which wasn’t due to Hiliad’s poor craftsmanship but because Ossenna had hastily tailored from his old clothes when he first gave Ian garments.

Even after the alterations, while it still wasn’t a perfect fit, bundling and rolling it up a bit posed no issue.

Clearly, the person mending it had given it careful thought.

“Teacher…”

Muttering the word to himself, Ian offered a faint smile, “Indeed, quite a surprise.”

He paused for a moment, setting aside the various emotions in his heart.

The boy turned and went outside the courtyard, giving heartfelt thanks before earnestly stating he would make good use of his cooking skills to prepare several delicious meals as a way of showing his gratitude.

“Haha, I’ve tasted all sorts of delicacies, I’d like to see how delicious you can make them,” Hiliad chuckled lightly, shaking his head but not rejecting the offer, instead giving a few tips, “Eat more yourself today.

Later on, nobles or White Folks are sure to come looking for you, so stay in good spirits.”

“Just wait and see.”

Hiliad’s words turned out to be prophetic, as he was well-acquainted with The Empire.

That very afternoon, Ian, dressed in his new clothes, made a pot of beef porridge with the bison jerky he had gotten the day before and shared a hearty bowl with Hiliad.

Just as he was ready to strike while the iron was hot, striving in his training to enhance control over his own strength and grasp of Origin Quality,

Elder Prude’s guards arrived at the door.

The two guards had come to invite Ian to the Viscount’s Mansion to join Elder Prude on a visit to Viscount Grant.

Most of Elder Prude’s guards were young men in their early twenties.

In a sense, all young people in the White Folks with a talent for martial prowess had served as Elder Prude’s guards and received his guidance at one time or another.

The outstanding ones would be recommended by the Elder to join the Port Guard Squad or the City Defense Force at Harrison Port.

Ian’s father in this life, Ernesto, had followed this path to become the captain of the Guard Squad.

Those less outstanding, like Brin, became herb gatherers who risked their lives taking what they needed from the natives, as did the majority of the White Folks’ hunters.

And those who were even less capable…

well, they weren’t suited for a life of martial pursuit and were better off as fishermen, farmers, or laboring craftsmen.

However, this time, the two guards who came to invite Ian were both robust male warriors in their thirties at the peak of their power.

They stood at the doorway, clad in sturdy stag-leather armor, their expressions resolute, and their gaze toward Ian filled with a touch of novelty.

“Please come with us, young Ian.”

“I used to be comrades-in-arms with your father, and we took out a few Deep Marsh Wolves’ dens together.”

Being Elder Prude’s true confidants, they naturally were aware of Ian’s identity as a Spirit Energy User, so their invitation was very gentle, and their looks at the boy were full of admiration.

The status of the White Folks at Harrison Port depended entirely on Elder Prude alone.

He was a Sublimator, proficient in the Dwarves’ alchemy and craftsmanship techniques, and even due to his noble background and Bloodline, he had mastered the art of Inscriptions.

Such a Sublimator with multiple skills could become a guest of honor at the mansions of various Nobles.

In fact, Viscount Grant treated Elder Prude in this manner, and thus the White Folks had become an important part of Harrison Port, no longer the expendable exiles they were before.

But, if Elder Prude were to die…

what would become of the White Folks?

Without a second multi-talented Sublimator who was on good terms with the local Nobility, the White Folks would inevitably be unable to maintain their current power.

The Viscount’s Mansion might also stop supporting the now valueless White Folks.

Of course, it was still too early to discuss such matters, as Elder Prude had at least twenty or thirty more years to live.

With the development speed of the White Folks and Harrison Port, that time span was sufficient for them to cultivate another Sublimator.

But how could the possibility of the future compare to what was right in front of them now, the young Spirit Energy User, Ian?

Practically being protected by the two guards as they escorted him to the center of the Viscount’s Mansion, Ian finally sighed in relief, breaking free from their flanking and looking up to see Elder Prude waiting for him at the main entrance.

“It’s a bit sudden, but don’t worry.”

The Elder with the lush mustache was dressed very formally today, even his usually unkempt beard neatly groomed.

Clad in a white robe with pale red trim, he took Ian’s hand and, guided by attendants, stepped into the Viscount’s Mansion.

“Viscount Grant wants to see you, and in line with tradition, he will grant you the qualifications for the training of your Bloodline True Form.”

Despite Elder Prude’s hushed voice, it was quite clear: “This is usually a very formal procedure, but because of the attack by the Natives yesterday, everything has been simplified…

Don’t be nervous.

Essentially, they just ask for your name, get acquainted with your face, and register your name in the list of Sublimators at Harrison Port.”

“Yes, yes.”

Ian naturally wasn’t nervous, but he still pretended to be rather constrained and careful.

They arrived in front of the study on the second floor but heard a rebuke coming from inside.

“The lookout station on the east coast was ambushed, and you say you didn’t see the distress signal?”

The Viscount’s voice was deep, clearly tinged with anger: “The whole watchtower was burned to the ground; the flames could be seen from five miles away, and then you tell me you didn’t see the distress signal?”

The scolding continued for a while; a dark-skinned, red-haired man exited the study emotionlessly with his head bowed.

His gaze met briefly with Ian and Elder Prude, revealing a pair of deep green pupils within sunken eye sockets.

“Unfortunate.”

After greeting Elder Prude, the handsome red-haired man returned to silence and was led away by a maid.

“Lubeck, Mercenary Leader.”

Elder Prude seemed to be murmuring to himself: “He’s from the Mountain People to the north of South Ridge, the tribe only pledged allegiance to The Empire twenty years ago, still half a Native.

More than a decade ago, his child was taken by the Natives from the Redwood side as a sacrifice.

He’s been in Harrison Port for fifteen years seeking revenge.”

“Strange,” Elder Prude furrowed his brow: “How could Lubeck make such a low-level mistake?

He’s one of the best, there are no more than five in Harrison Port who could surpass him.”

However, Ian keenly noticed that the man’s expression and the marks on his leather armor indicated he had been in a fight; he definitely had been in battle last night, he was not shirking combat or skimping on effort.

The Mercenary Leader hid his actions from last night.

If Ian could see this, then Viscount Grant and Elder Prude, who certainly weren’t blind, probably noticed as well; no wonder Viscount Grant was so angry, as Lubeck did not even make a serious effort to lie, which was quite dismissive.

It was also possible Lubeck was not very clever, but the result was the same.

This wasn’t a big deal and soon, with Viscount Grant’s composure restored, he summoned them, and Ian entered the study under Elder Prude’s guidance.