Chapter 28: Guests are Coming

Chapter 28: Guests are Coming

Spring was almost over, and his two older brothers still had no news. The Adulthood Ceremony varied from person to person. The short time inside could be two or three months, while the long time could be a year. Generally, the Trial was mostly completed within four to five months. The longer it went beyond that, the smaller the chance of coming out alive became.

However, Bran firmly believed his brothers would be safe and sound and complete the Trial successfully. This was a feeling that came from his Bloodline. He seemed to see them walking out from the depths of the Wasteland with laughter, accompanied by a sense of relief.

Today, Bran was told that a Kingdom Delegation would arrive, accompanied by some Royal Capital Knights and Territory Nobles. When she mentioned this, Bran’s mother looked at Bran with a meaningful glance.

The Royal Capital? In the eyes of the Northlanders, the Kingdom and the Royal Capital meant nothing at all. The Northlands were self-contained, with their own set of Rules. The so-called Duke was merely a method of appeasement. To put it bluntly, it meant “I give you benefits, and you nominally accept my rule.” The hand of the Royal Capital had never reached here. Similarly, the Northlands were vast and sparsely populated, and they had no interest in expanding outwards either.

According to Bran’s estimation, with the self-destructive nature of the Northlanders, that Adulthood Ceremony—which still felt inexplicable to him—and the desire for population expansion were simply impossible tasks.

…

After learning the news of the Delegation’s arrival, Bran began to scheme, thinking about what accessories would be more suitable for the people around him to wear. So these days, during his free time, Bran’s “idle and vacant” symptoms had become much more severe.

The Northlands had excellent leather and first-class fur, but lacked fabrics like cotton and linen. Therefore, when it came to the fineness of fabrics, they really couldn’t compare to other places.

The Northlands were certainly not lacking in terms of the quality of weapons and armor, but one couldn’t be fully armed when receiving envoys either. Bran’s idea was simple: equip a couple of exquisite accessories to dazzle the eyes of those country bumpkins outside.

The Castle had nothing to do with him, but the people of his own Mountain Villa needed more spirit. So each guard at the gate received a wolf-head shoulder ornament and a harness belt. They were told to hang the wolf-heads consistently on their left shoulders. Bran told the several gatekeepers this was called “asymmetrical beauty.” He completely didn’t consider that the Mountain Villa guards were more like doormen, staying only inside the main gate.

As for Bran himself, adhering to the principle that a man should be judged by his inner qualities, not his outer appearance, he still wore his usual, impeccably clean coat. The actual situation was that this kind of event probably had nothing to do with Bran. He remembered three years ago when a Delegation came. At that time, he was in his “Idiot” phase, doing whatever he was supposed to do, and no one bothered him.

…

Today, several ladies, including Danny and his Sister’s Attendant, were called by Bran to the Courtyard. When they heard him start talking nonsense about how to dress femininely, everyone showed deep disdain, except for his younger sister, who looked at him with admiration. According to Bran’s words, as long as you wore a few beautiful pieces of jewelry, as long as the jewelry was dazzling enough, then you would be the star that everyone noticed.

Under the ladies’ disdainful and skeptical gazes, Bran said, “Just you wait, I’ll prove it to you right now.” Then he ran to his room and carried out a large chest.

When the chest was opened, everyone present let out a soft gasp. All kinds of exquisite jewelry filled the chest, reflecting dazzling light. Several hands almost simultaneously grabbed Bran and then threw him out. This chest was filled with memories of his past life. They were all various little trinkets he had made during his usual ability practice, based on his memories: bracelets, bangles, hair accessories, brooches, and so on—all the decorative patterns and designs he could remember. Now he had just brought them out and placed them before his family.

After all, his mother had seen big scenes and was the first to regain composure. Then she made a decision that pained Bran greatly: “I’ll help you keep these for now.” Seemingly to win over the other ladies, she added, “Each of you can pick two pieces.”

To Bran’s stunned disbelief, this decision received support from everyone except him.

But it wasn’t over. Another request from his mother completely crushed Bran. “Since we moved here, you haven’t invited me to visit your treasure vault. Take me to see it today.”

Bran directly threw himself on the ground, shouting, “That’s not fair! This is robbery!”

His mother kindly explained it was just to look: “We promise not to take anything.”

Bran retorted, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

…

Bran and the several ladies stood at the entrance to the treasure vault. Under everyone’s gaze, he pulled down the inconspicuous iron piece on the door frame that seemed meant for reinforcement, decoration, or collision prevention. Then he lifted the iron piece at the bottom of the door frame upward and gently pushed the door open. Only the lock hung swaying on the door, as if mocking something.

He could hear his Sister and younger sister’s soft gasps of sudden understanding. Then, feeling slightly smug, he smiled at them.

In the room, all kinds of weapons with unique shapes filled the space. They hung on all four walls, lay flat on tables, and stood in weapon racks. Each one had a distinct personality; not a single style was repeated. These were all weapons Bran had seen in his past life from movies, games, anime, and military magazines—both fantastical and realistic—now recreated by Bran in this World.

Northlanders, from old to young, were mostly first-class Warriors. So they had a natural, fervent desire to possess weapons. This desire far exceeded their demand for exquisite accessories.

Everyone ignored Bran’s shout: “Look only, don’t touch!”

“I see you! You hid my dagger! Put it back! Lily!”

“Xirui, you can’t use those two Short Blades at all right now. Don’t lunge at them. Be careful not to get hurt. I’ll give them to you when you’re older. Stand farther away from them right now.”

“Don’t even think about hiding them. I’m a Wizard. I have abilities. If you take my things, I can sense it! Put them all back.”

Bran’s frantic and exasperated voice echoed throughout the room.

If it were just one or two weapons, no one would lose composure. Even ten or twenty would only make these people slightly envious. But when an entire room was filled with long and short weapons of various styles, brimming with a sense of beauty and power, it instantly drove these Northlander women wild.

…

The first to recover was Danny. In a sense, she was the closest person to Bran. From the time Bran first forged that Single Blade named “Birthday” to later commissioning weapons for the Knights in one batch. Although the impact the moment the door opened had dizzied her for a while, she was now gradually coming to her senses.

The chaos in the room gradually subsided. That fervor was still there, but their behavior was becoming more rational.

His mother spoke to Bran: “This place isn’t very safe…”

Bran immediately interrupted: “No taking! Anyone! These are mine. Without my permission, no one is allowed to take anything! And besides you all, no one knows about this place. I’ve never allowed anyone else to step in here. No outsiders are allowed to enter.”

Finally, everyone agreed to keep it a secret and promised not to steal any weapons. At the same time, they demanded that Bran not lock this door anymore, so they could come and look anytime they wanted.

By now, everyone had lost interest in picking accessories. They chased Bran out, leaving only themselves in the room, staring blankly at the various weapons.