Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 388: Chapter 85: The Morning Star Shines Again, a New Chapter Begins

He was perhaps faintly hoping that, as the daughter of the Thunder Sword, she would know the truths buried by time.

But Eleanor had no intention of responding to this probing.

Sometimes, knowing the truth wasn’t necessarily a good thing, especially for an old man like Terence in his twilight years.

Besides, he had once been her father’s rival.

Even if that was before her father became Baron Duval, times had changed, and she had no obligation to help a former adversary resolve old grievances.

The Deacons in the square had finished packing up and came over to ask for instructions.

Eleanor withdrew her gaze. "Once the inventory is complete, prepare to head back. We’ll proceed to the next village tomorrow as planned."

"Yes, my lady," the Deacon replied with a bow.

Just as Eleanor turned to board her carriage, a voice called out from behind her, faint but clear. "My lady, please wait."

It was Leon, Terence’s old servant.

He had jogged back alone, holding a small object wrapped in faded silk.

He stopped in front of Eleanor, panting slightly as he respectfully offered her the bundle.

"The master asked me to give this to you," Leon said in a low voice. "He said... if you should have the chance to go somewhere special in the future, you might have a use for this. He said... this was originally meant for Miss Cecilia."

Eleanor didn’t take it immediately, her eyes fixed on the faded silk bundle.

After a moment, she reached out and took it. The package was light, with a hard, irregular shape.

"Did Knight Terence say anything else?" she asked.

Leon shook his head. "That was all the master said. He also said... thank you for being willing to listen to his ramblings all afternoon."

After speaking, the old servant bowed again, then turned and hurried off in the direction of the long-departed wheelchair.

Eleanor clutched the cool package, not opening it on the spot.

She boarded the carriage and only then, in the dim light of the cabin, did she slowly unwrap the faded silk.

Inside was a badge.

It was of an ancient design, the metal somewhat oxidized and dark, but the markings on it were still clear: a delicate Snowball Flower relief in the center.

It was not the crest of the Duval Clan, nor was it the crest of the House of Monte.

The back of the badge was inscribed with a line of fine, elegant script. It was somewhat faded with age but still legible: "For Cecilia, may the starlight guide your path. —With love from your mother, Esther."

...

「One month later.」

Autumn deepened, and the north wind grew colder by the day.

Eleanor had not ceased her efforts, but as time went on, the things she saw and heard along her journey weighed ever more heavily on her heart.

At first, it was just scattered reports.

A Baron’s Domain saw a tenant farmer revolt after a "defense tax" was levied, which the Lord brutally suppressed.

A Viscount’s Domain erupted in a small-scale conflict with a neighboring territory over a water dispute, resulting in dozens of casualties.

Bandits had suddenly grown rampant on a certain trade route, waylaying several caravans, stealing their goods, and inflicting heavy casualties.

Gradually, these scattered reports grew more frequent, spreading across the Continent like a plague.

When Eleanor arrived with supplies at the next village scheduled for relief, she found it half-empty.

The remaining villagers, their faces ashen, told her that the Lord’s tax collectors had come through a few days prior. Not only had they confiscated the last of their stored grain, but they had also forcibly conscripted all the able-bodied young men, claiming it was to "raise a militia and defend the territory."

As for where they were taken, or whether they were alive or dead, no one knew.

She tried to contact the resident Deacon at the local church, only to find the church doors locked and the Deacon long gone.

A braver villager secretly told her that the Deacon had been "invited" to the castle for a "talk" after opposing the Lord’s excessive taxes, and had never returned.

Passing merchants brought news from farther away.

Several grain-producing territories in the center of the Kingdom had been hit by a rare autumn flood, submerging the fields and devastating the harvest. Instead of reducing taxes, the local nobles imposed new ones in the name of "disaster relief." This led to uprisings of starving people, who soon turned to banditry, causing public order to completely collapse.

The southern coast was not at peace, either.

Friction between the fleets of the United Trade Association from the Albion Islands and several of the Continent’s traditional trading city-states was becoming increasingly open. There had been several small-scale clashes at sea, with rumors of merchant ships being plundered and sunk.

Trade routes were disrupted, leading to shortages of goods and soaring prices.

Even within the Rotalia Empire, generally considered to be relatively stable, there were unsettling rumors.

In several provinces of the Eastern Region, the activities of the "Equalist Sect" had suddenly intensified, with multiple incidents of attacks on local noble estates and the burning of tax records.

Imperial troops were being mobilized frequently, and the atmosphere was tense.

The authority of the Holy City seemed to be crumbling at an unprecedented rate.

Reports of conflicts and requests for aid from dioceses everywhere piled up like mountains, yet they rarely received a substantial response.

On the contrary, more and more reports indicated that many local Bishops and Clergy were beginning to selectively "take sides." Some aligned themselves with powerful local nobles for self-preservation, while others simply used what little influence they had left to profit for themselves.

The light of faith appeared pale and powerless in the face of the pressures of survival and human greed.

One day, as Eleanor’s carriage was on its way to another afflicted village, her path was blocked by a group of people in tattered clothes, armed with crude weapons.

Their eyes were a mixture of desperation and madness; they didn’t look like professional bandits, but more like desperate refugees with nowhere else to go.

Her guards immediately formed a defensive formation, protecting the carriage in the center.

Eleanor lifted the carriage curtain and looked at the group of people blocking the road ahead. They were gaunt and sallow, trembling but resolute.