Reborn In A Cultivation World With All Cheat Abilities

Chapter 96: Signing The Treaty

The Patriarch of Ironfell sat in his study, as he had done for quite a number of years now, running a pen over a thin, white sheet of paper.

The inauguration had gone extremely well, and now he was recognized worldwide as the new Patriarch of the Ironfell family.

Heavy were the benefits, but the burdens were also equally heavy, and tasking, requiring him to be on seat at almost every minute of everyday.

He was drafting messages to neighboring cities and strongholds, some were messages requesting for alliance, some were for appreciation, and so on.

He had sat there for no less than nine hours when a servant knocked on his door.

"Who is it!" He spoke out, demanding a reply without even looking up from the piece of paper that sat lifelessly on his desk.

"My Lord, a visitor." The calm voice of a servant called out from the other side of the door, the man furrowed his brows and let out a long sigh.

Who would visit at this hour? especially now when he was swamped with work and responsibilities. Surely it had to be important, otherwise this servant would dare not disturb his work.

"Send him in." The Patriarch ordered gesturing with his hands as if to say ’Come on in,’ he raised his one functional eye up.

The sight that met him was one he hadn’t seen in a long time. Scores, maybe.

"Heimdall?" The man asked, looking up from his paper, he was surprised as to why this man was suddenly in his study and what his purpose was. But as Patriarch, he would still pay his respects and hear the man out.

"Patriarch Rhoarin, suits you very nicely." Heimdall smiled as he shook the Patriarch’s hand firmly.

"Indeed it does. Tell me Heimdall, why have you come here—I’m sorry, where are my manners, make yourself comfortable." Rhoarin did his best display of hospitality, but the truth was that he wanted to get to the point as soon as possible, without delay.

He knew about the history between the former Patriarch of Ironfell and the Primarch of Wutherhorn. Infact he had experienced most of it, they weren’t exactly best of friends.

It all begun at a Wutherhorn celebration, during one their regular routine gladiator fights, Alaric had challenged the Primarch to a one on one battle, whoever won would get fifty percent of the wealth of the loser.

Knowing the Primarch and how he loved to display his strength, Alaric knew that such a proud man would not refuse such a bet, Alaric was a huge gambler in the past.

Rhoarin chuckled inwardly, wondering how his carefree father had managed not to lose the entire family’s wealth, it was either he was careful with his gambling addiction, or the Ironfells were just too wealthy.

Rhoarin leaned towards the latter.

The fight between both men lasted about two hours, a brutish battle that left both men scarred, but Alaric emerged victorious in the end, by managing to knock the Primarch down and pinning him in an uncomfortable position.

This angered the Primarch, who immediately demanded for a rematch, but Alaric refused.

The man tried over and over, time and time again, to rematch Alaric but the old man refused.

The Primarch knew it would be stupid to declare war on the Ironfells over such a trivial matter, so he just held the grudge in his heart for as long as possible, whenever the Ironfell name came up, his blood automatically started to boil in a way that even he couldn’t understand.

Rhoarin wondered why, after all that drama, the personal butler of the Primarch was now sitting comfortably in his office.

"I see you haven’t aged at all." Rhoarin joked.

"Neither have you haha."

Heimdall was the Primarch’s personal butler for years, only for two reasons. The first was that the Primarch never needed to speak in order to communicate with him.

The second being his message delivery speed, Heimdall was said to be faster that a peregrine falcon, delivering messages and information at top speed.

Not a single soul knew why he was so fast, so swift in his delivery, but they trusted it regardless.

"So what brings you here? Old friend." Rhoarin said, clasping his arms together and leaning back on his seat, his icy blue eyes felt like they were piercing through Heimdall’s eyelids.

"Well, I bring a message from the Primarch, you should read it. Ahem, it concerns your son also." Heimdall responded with his eyes closed and his look bland.

"My son?" Rhoarin looked confused now, what could Jacob possibly have with the Wutherhorns, was he in their estate, did he have any friends there? Questions raced in his mind, endless possibilities nearly paralyzing him until he was able to jolt himself back to reality.

He collected the letter from Heimdall and glanced up at the close-eyed man before unfolding the letter.

The first thing he noticed was the Wutherhorn stamp, boldly engraved onto the thick piece of paper.

Then he noticed the heading of the letter ’Bilateral Treaty.’

’Treaty?!’ Rhoarin exclaimed in his mind, he refrained from showing emotions to his visitor, as it would make him seem extremely unprofessional.

’Why would the Wutherhorn Primarch suddenly send a treaty.’ Rhoarin mused again as he read the letter which spoke of establishing mutual obligations, managing disputes, and fostering cooperation in trade, defense, and human rights.

Rhoarin’s face was awash with confusion, even though the terms of the treaty and the list of gifts that had been brought was tempting enough, he still didn’t understand why the Wutherhorns would do something like this.

His confusion was short lived as Heimdall spoke to him.

"Your son arrived at the manor a few days ago, with the Primarch’s long lost son, Light—who absconded the manor as little as ten years old.

The Primarch had been in a terrible state for the past two years, afflicted with the dark plague, it was your don who healed him.

So not only did he save the Primarch’s son, he also saved the Primarch himself, this was a token of gratitude, at your son’s request of course."

Rhoarin could not believe his ears, he had not tbe faintest idea that Jacob was capable of such a thing, to end a lifelong family feud with two simple gestures.

He looked down at the treaty one last time, then looked up at Heimdall. "This treaty is binding?"

Heimdall only responded with a nod of his head, causing a new wave of pondering for Rhoarin, who knew now what he must do.

He picked up a pen and dipped it in ink, his hand hovered to the place where the line ’signature’ was written and signed the treaty without hesitation.

He knew the benefits of signing such a document could not be taken lightly.

A joining of two of the most strongest houses on the continent would not only be feared, but have enough resources to last a lifetime if managed properly.

"Your son, I’ve never seen anything quite like him, he’s so young, but the way he carries himself, his movements, it shows profound energy that I can’t explain." Heimdall expressed, from the way he talked, Rhoarin knew that he had really met Jacob.

"Haha, even we struggle to understand it." Rhoarin said, handing the folded document back to the man.