Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System-Chapter 44: A Piece of Parchment

Murphy immediately got up and methodically saddled Red Leaf.

Just like always, his only job was to ensure the warhorse was ready at a moment’s notice, waiting quietly for Arthur’s arrival.

He wouldn’t do anything more than what was required.

’This commotion will probably die down on its own, just like every other time,’ Murphy thought.

A few other grooms, jolted awake nearby, were also preparing saddles while talking in low voices.

"I bet these Barbarians won’t last the time it takes to burn through a short candle," said the taller, younger Duan. "That’s about how long it was last time."

The middle-aged groom, Allen, shook his head. "This is a big one tonight. I say it’ll last until the morning prayer bell. Two copper plates on it?"

"Done!" Duan readily agreed. "Same old rules—whoever’s closer wins."

Old John, with his graying hair, chimed in, "If you ask me, they won’t even last through one recital of the Lord’s Prayer. These Barbarians are just here to probe our defenses. The moment they see we’re on high alert, they’ll pull back."

During chapel in the castle, a full recital of the Lord’s Prayer usually took two to three minutes.

Just then, Allen turned to Murphy. "What do you think?"

Without looking up from the saddle he was adjusting, Murphy said, "About as long as it takes me to eat dinner."

Allen laughed and cursed good-naturedly. "You’re too damn sly! Everyone knows how long you take to eat depends entirely on your mood. When you’re in a hurry, you can wolf it down in a couple of bites. When you’re not, you can drag it out until the moon is high in the sky!"

Murphy looked up and smiled but didn’t continue the conversation.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the alarm for the enemy attack came to an abrupt halt, and the outpost returned to its usual tranquility.

This was the occasional routine at the border outpost. The Rosenia People from across the border would send men to harass them from time to time, but they would retreat immediately if the situation turned against them, never committing to a real fight.

...

In the borderlands in front of the outpost, traces of the bloody battle from nine years ago were still faintly visible.

The northern permafrost made it difficult for the land to fully heal. Shattered armor fragments, rusted weapon shards, and bleached white bones were scattered among the wild grass and frozen earth. On some, the tattered remains of their uniforms could still be identified.

Arthur and several other followers stood by the outpost’s fence, gazing at the dark forest in the distance.

Arthur rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "These damn northern Barbarians. It’s only our first day, and we can’t get any peace."

A young follower named Luca, standing beside him, yawned. "They’re like wolves in the woods. They don’t bite, but they never stop howling."

Another, slightly older follower was polishing his Knight’s Sword. "Isn’t that the truth. A real fight would be much more satisfying."

Luca turned to Lawson, who had been staring silently into the distance. "Lawson, why are you spacing out? You’re the captain of the Black Wood Forest Outpost. You can’t afford to be distracted right now."

His tone was natural, showing no hint of disdain just because Lawson was stationed far from the castle’s center of power.

Lawson seemed to jolt awake, quickly clenching the small piece of parchment in his hand.

"It’s nothing," he said, turning around, his voice steady. "Just thinking about which direction these Barbarians will come from next time. Everyone, go get some rest. There shouldn’t be any more trouble tonight."

"Alright!" Luca walked over and clapped Arthur on the shoulder with a smile. "This time, let’s get some proper sleep. I’m sleeping in till noon, and if anyone dares to disturb me, I’ll beat ’em up!"

The older follower laughed as well. "Count me in. Even if Lord Rotton himself shows up, he’ll have to wait until I’ve had my sleep."

Amidst the laughter, the image of the Rosenia follower who had thrown the parchment under the cover of darkness reappeared in Lawson’s mind.

His fingers tightened unconsciously, gripping the parchment in his palm even harder.

...

Life at the outpost meant feeding the horses in a completely different way than at the castle.

The biting cold wind and the constant threat of enemy attacks forced them to simplify all aspects of care.

Grooming was far less frequent than in the castle. The horses could only be given a quick brushing on afternoons when the weather was slightly better, to avoid them catching a cold and getting sick.

Their feed was just ordinary hay mixed with oats. While plentiful, it was nowhere near as meticulously proportioned as the feed back at the castle.

Thus, in the lulls between feedings, the bored grooms would gather around the haystacks to chat.

"If you ask me, the next great war is still another ten years away."

Duan said, counting on his fingers.

"Ten years? Too soon!" Allen shook his head. "I’d say at least twenty. Think about it, the war before last was forty years ago."

Old John said, "If you ask me, it’ll be thirty years!"

Then, he looked at Murphy. "What do you think?"

Murphy pretended to think it over carefully before saying, "I agree, thirty years. Think about it, how many people are even in the domain right now? So many died in the last war. We need to wait for the population to grow back."

At this, a few of the local grooms from the outpost also gathered around and joined the discussion.

They exchanged opinions, one after another. Some brought up the recovery after past wars, while others talked about the patterns of population growth in the domain.

After some discussion, everyone eventually agreed that Murphy’s reasoning made the most sense.

The thought that war was still so far off put the grooms’ minds at ease.

In this era, it was common for people to live into their thirties. Even for those who worked in the castle, few expected to live to see fifty.

By the time a war actually broke out in thirty years, most of them would likely be long gone.

The reason for such long intervals between wars was that while they were religious disputes on the surface, and geopolitical conflicts at their core, it was always the border nobles who bore the actual losses.

The distant Church Court and Kingdom couldn’t provide enough resources, so even when conflicts did occur, all sides needed a long time to rest and recuperate.

Thirty years was just about the time it took for two generations to grow up.

The border war before last happened forty years ago, which was also the era when Murphy’s grandfather, George, and Yor first entered the castle’s service.

This was also one of the reasons the Roton Knight disapproved of Kelvin’s reforms. The Duval Clan, descended from a Pioneer Knight who established their domain on the border, had a legacy stretching back over two hundred years. It wasn’t as if they had never faced such dire financial straits before.

And hadn’t they always managed to pull through just fine?

Just then, someone came over to take a horse. A sharp-eyed groom quickly warned, "Stop chatting, someone’s coming."

The men looked up, saw it was Lawson, and immediately said in unison, respectfully, "Captain Lawson."

Lawson, who already looked to be in a bad mood, scowled even more upon seeing Murphy.

He ignored Murphy completely and said to the other grooms, "Get me a packhorse."

After the horse was brought over, he deliberately mounted it right in front of Murphy, flicking the reins so the horse’s tail whipped past Murphy’s face.

Murphy calculated the trajectory of the swinging tail, and once he confirmed it wouldn’t hit him, he stood his ground without moving a muscle.

The other grooms turned a blind eye to this.

It was common for followers to take out their frustrations on grooms. Some would even resort to physical violence when in a bad mood.

Compared to that, this level of humiliation from Lawson was nothing.

And so, the men quickly went back to their conversation.

Murphy glanced at Lawson’s retreating back, a slight frown on his face.

With his now-heightened senses, he could faintly detect an unusual tension about Lawson.

But then again, ’who wasn’t on edge at a border outpost like this?’

’Maybe last night’s attack left Lawson shaken, or maybe he received some bad news.’

But Murphy didn’t dwell on it. He had decided long ago that if things went south at the outpost, he would slip away into the nearby mountains immediately.

’The enemy wouldn’t go out of their way to search the deep mountains and old forests just for an insignificant groom, would they?’

With that thought, Murphy turned and rejoined the grooms’ idle chatter.