Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System-Chapter 106 - 100: Accountability

The snow had just stopped, and sunlight spilled across the front of the silver-mantled Baron’s Castle.

Murphy wore a deep gray mink cloak over a dark green velvet formal tunic, the collar adorned with the Duval Clan’s crest of mountains and rivers.

Ten Knight’s Attendants stood in neat formation behind him. They wore matching deep blue, black-trimmed uniforms over Chain Armor, with Knight’s Swords at their waists, standing solemnly still in the biting cold.

In the distance, a procession of five gilded carriages slowly approached, its wheels cutting deep ruts into the snow.

Once the procession halted, three Knights in full Plate Armor spurred their horses forward.

Their Silver Armor gleamed with a cold light against the snow, etched with the Royal Family’s purple-and-gold Griffin sigil.

The warhorses snorted thick clouds of white breath, their hooves crunching in the snow. Standing around 1.7 meters at the shoulder, they were more powerfully built than any steed Murphy had ever raised.

But even more startling was the two-meter-tall black warhorse that followed at a slow walk.

On its back sat a middle-aged man in a deep blue surcoat. He wore no Plate Armor and was not the largest of men, yet wherever his gaze fell, people instinctively lowered their eyes. No one dared to meet his stare.

"Richard de Monte, Royal Guard Captain," his steady voice carried clearly in the frigid wind. "I am responsible for security on this journey."

’A Great Knight?’

Murphy wondered.

Under the command of Captain of the Guard Richard, the Knights and Attendants began to form up in an orderly fashion.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, a testament to their rigorous training.

Soon, they had formed a tight protective cordon around the central carriage.

Once the formation was complete, the door of the lead carriage opened, and a tall, middle-aged man stepped out.

He was dressed in a snow-white robe embroidered with starry patterns in silver thread. On his head was a Silver Crown set with Moonlight Stones, and in his hand, he held a Scepter also inlaid with Moonlight Stones. He descended slowly from the carriage.

The Moonlight Stones on the Scepter shimmered with a soft halo in the light reflected off the snow.

Next, a young woman descended from the carriage, carefully assisted by a Maid.

She was about fourteen or fifteen, wearing a delicate Pearl Crown. Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall.

She wore a long, lavender velvet gown with fine silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs. Black silk stockings traced the slender curves of her calves, and on her feet were a pair of burgundy pumps. Their pearl buckles glinted faintly in the light reflecting off the snow.

The moment Murphy saw the Princess, he froze, his pupils contracting slightly.

It was not her beauty that stunned him. It was her striking resemblance to the Othilia of his memory—the same delicate features, the same faintly upturned lips, and even the same deep, dark eyes.

Just then, an Attendant in royal livery stepped forward and announced loudly, "Presenting the Thirteenth Princess of the Vilt Kingdom, Her Highness Princess Margaret, and His Eminence Archbishop John of the Truth Church Court, Bishop of the Crescent District."

Murphy had vaguely heard that King Henry of the Vilt Kingdom had a much-beloved Little Princess named Margaret, but he never expected her to personally visit this remote, border territory.

Archbishop John, meanwhile, was a rising star in the Church Court, rumored to be a likely candidate for the next Cardinal.

Since Duke Douglas was the liege lord of the Duval Territory, Murphy simply placed his right hand over his heart and bowed forty-five degrees. "Sylvan Duval," he said, his voice steady and strong. "On behalf of the Duval Clan, I welcome Her Highness Princess Margaret and Archbishop John to Duval Castle."

He then made the standard holy sign before his chest—a crescent moon embracing a star. "May the light of the stars and truth guide our Path."

Princess Margaret gave a slight nod, her smile tinged with curiosity as she regarded Murphy.

Archbishop John, however, scrutinized Murphy with a sharp gaze, as if trying to peer through his facade and see everything within.

"Baron Sylvan," the Princess spoke first, "you seemed quite surprised when you saw me."

This was precisely the reaction Murphy had intended to show. ’As Sylvan, it would be impossible not to react to a princess who looks so much like Othilia.’

He replied, "It just reminded me of the past."

Princess Margaret gave a captivating smile. "Did it remind you of my cousin, Othilia?"

’Is that something we can talk about?’

Murphy glanced at the Archbishop, who remained impassive. He understood at once. ’For those of lower station, the topic is taboo. But for those who have surpassed a certain social stratum, it’s fair game for idle chatter.’

"Indeed," Murphy responded curtly.

The Princess leaned forward slightly, her tone sincere. "I apologize for the harm my cousin Othilia caused you all those years ago." She watched Murphy with concern. "How have your injuries healed since then?"

Murphy had long ago used [Thousand-Faced Illusion] and the [Shadow Ring] to perfectly Disguise his aura. He now appeared to be nothing more than a slightly frail, ordinary man.

He answered calmly, "After years of recuperation, I’ve mostly recovered. I am especially grateful for Viscount Hans’s considerable assistance."

Princess Margaret clearly noted the nuance in Murphy’s mention of Viscount Hans, but she merely nodded. "In any case, my cousin did indeed harm you. To that end, I have prepared a small compensation." She gestured for a Maid to bring forward an exquisite oak box.

The lid was opened to reveal several small ceramic jars arranged neatly inside.

Princess Margaret said, "This is Saint Hildebrand Cream, for the exclusive use of the Royal Family. It is perfect for nourishing the body and restoring one’s vitality."

Murphy accepted the box and bowed. "Thank you for your gracious gift, Her Highness the Princess."

After a series of tedious but necessary pleasantries, Murphy finally led his distinguished guests into the castle’s banquet hall.

The hall was decorated with hunting trophies from generations of the Duval Clan: massive elk antlers, snow-wolf pelts, and black bear skulls were displayed on the walls.

A fresh linen cloth was spread across the long table, where silver candelabras illuminated the clan’s crest of mountains and rivers on the walls.

The banquet began with smoked salmon and roasted truffles, followed by a specialty of the Northern Lands: roasted wild boar with juniper berry sauce.

The main course was an entire honey-roasted leg of venison, served with a wild berry reduction and creamed mushrooms.

During the meal, Princess Margaret elegantly sliced her venison. "I heard that your sister, Miss Aurora, is the heir to this territory. Why is she not in attendance today?"

Murphy’s expression remained neutral as he answered with composure, "Thank you for your concern, Her Highness. Aurora gave birth not long ago and is currently recuperating. It is not convenient for her to receive guests."

The Princess nodded, not pressing the matter further.

Throughout it all, Archbishop John remained silent, not uttering a single word.

Only when the meal was finished did Archbishop John set down his cutlery and speak. "Baron Sylvan," he said abruptly, "I have noticed that your territory’s tax revenue has declined for several consecutive years. How do you intend to maintain its operations?"