Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 358: Chapter 77: Shouldn’t Even a Candle That Illuminates Darkness Be Lit?

Count Raymond frowned and gestured to the Steward.

The Steward hurried over to inquire. A moment later, he returned to report, "My lord, it’s Ada from the village downstream. Her husband died of illness last month, leaving her in debt for his medicine. At home, she only has half a sack of moldy wheat and an elderly, sick mother. They were about to run out of food with nowhere to turn. She heard that one could borrow interest-free money and grain from the manor to get through hard times, so she begged her way here with her child... The child has a fever, too."

The Count’s frown deepened. He looked at Murphy, his voice low. "These are the people the Mutual Aid Fund is meant to help. Every year, there are always a few families like this. A single illness or accident can push them to the brink. In the past, their only options were to sell their children or take on high-interest loans they could never repay, which ultimately led to their ruin."

He sighed and instructed the Steward, "Take her to see Father Anderson and have the child’s illness treated first. According to the rules, once you’ve verified her situation, allocate her... enough wheat for three months’ rations from the fund. Also, lend her a small sum to buy medicine and repay her old debts. Have her sign a promissory note—it’s to be repaid interest-free within three years. Tell her that once her mother recovers and the child is a bit older, she can come to the manor to do odd jobs to work off part of the debt."

The Steward acknowledged the order and departed.

The peasant woman seemed to understand. She stood stunned in disbelief for a moment, then grabbed her child, fell to her knees with a THUD, and began kowtowing repeatedly in the Count’s direction, sobbing uncontrollably.

Eleanor watched in silence, a flicker of compassion in her dark eyes.

Aurora gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Count Raymond showed no pride; instead, his expression was heavy. "It’s a drop in the bucket, my Lord. There are other families like this in the territory. The fund’s money and grain come mainly from a portion of the manor’s income and my own personal donations. The amount is limited, so we can only help the most desperate few. And... there are always those who question whether this encourages laziness, whether it’s worth the effort."

Murphy pulled his gaze away from the mother and child in the distance and looked at the Count. "At least you’ve given them an option besides waiting for death. As for the doubts... what you’re doing will never be free of them."

Having received this affirmation, the Count revealed a faint, satisfied smile. freёweɓnovel.com

Murphy spoke again. "By the way, Count, where did this initial inspiration of yours come from? Was it your own insight, or were you influenced by someone or something?"

Count Raymond was taken aback, clearly not expecting such a turn in the conversation. "My Lord, these ideas... truthfully, they didn’t entirely come from my own deliberation. The credit belongs to Father Anderson, the resident Priest of our Glamorgan Territory. He is also my dear friend and spiritual mentor."

"Father Anderson..." Murphy repeated the name softly, his gaze flickering. "Is he the one you just had the Steward take that mother and child to see?"

"The very same," the Count nodded, his eyes filled with sincere respect. "Father Anderson is profoundly learned. He has studied the Holy Scripture of Truth in great depth, with a particular focus on the Chapters concerning compassion, justice, and the sheltering of the poor and weak. He often tells me that a Lord’s authority over his subjects is granted by Oriane, and its fundamental purpose is not for pleasure or amassing wealth, but to fulfill the role of a shepherd carrying out God’s will on earth. If one only shears the wool without regard for the flock’s hunger, cold, or illness, then one has betrayed a sacred trust."

He paused, as if remembering something, his tone growing more earnest. "The Priest not only interprets the Holy Scripture for me, providing the philosophical foundation, but he has also been of immense help in practical matters. He assists the clerks with the daily review and distribution for the Mutual Aid Fund, ensuring fairness and reassuring the people."

"The creation of the review council was also his initial suggestion. He said that giving the peasants an opportunity to voice their grievances is, in itself, a virtue of listening, one that can dispel much silent resentment."

"One could say that without Father Anderson’s guidance and support, these clumsy attempts of mine would have struggled to even begin."

Murphy listened quietly, then said:

"In that case... Count, would you mind making an introduction? I would like to meet this Father Anderson."

Count Raymond was startled for a moment, then his face lit up with pleasure. fгeewebnovёl.com

In his eyes, this was undoubtedly a sign of Murphy’s interest in the origin of his philosophy—perhaps even a form of approval!

He agreed almost without hesitation. "Of course, my Lord! It would be our honor! The Priest should be looking after that mother and child right now. I’ll take you to him at once!"

The group left the granary, following a gravel path partially shaded by grapevine trellises deeper into the manor estate.

At the end of the path stood a small but immaculate stone chapel, built in a typical rustic style.

Attached to one side of the church was a row of low buildings, which served as the Priest’s residence and study.

Before they drew near, they could hear a child’s stifled coughing and a woman’s quiet sobs coming from a room with an open door.

The Steward from before was standing respectfully by the doorway.

Count Raymond quickened his pace. Arriving at the door, he called out softly, "Father Anderson?"

The sobbing from within the room paused for a moment.

A moment later, a figure emerged from the dimly lit interior.

He was a man of about fifty, with a slender build, wearing black priest robes that were somewhat faded from countless washings. A simple wooden Holy Emblem hung from his neck.

His expression was serene, with deep lines etched at the corners of his eyes. His gray-blue eyes were gentle and placid, though currently tinged with fatigue. Upon seeing the Count, however, he immediately offered a warm and respectful smile.

"Lord Count." Father Anderson gave a slight bow, his gaze then falling upon Murphy and his companions behind the Count, resting in particular on Murphy in his wheelchair.