Full-Time Wizard: Starting with Harvesting Wheat

The arrival of a man who called himself a "historian" in town did not cause much of a commotion.

However, it is said that she came from Donggu Town, which is a small town of the same size and poverty as Lanxi Town. The people of Lanxi Town felt a sense of resonance when they heard this.

Moreover, she looked quite ordinary, without any outstanding features. Her skin was a deep tan from years of hard work, and she exuded the simplicity of a country girl, which made the people of Lanxi Town feel even more at ease with her.

She now lives at Mary's house, eating little but receiving a generous reward—stacks of gleaming silver coins that bring smiles to Mary's face. The people of Kelanxi Town are honest and straightforward, and Mary's family knows this; they only accept enough for daily expenses, refusing any more than that.

Meanwhile, Mary also acted as a guide, leading Soraya around this impoverished town. Calling it sightseeing was a stretch; there was nothing interesting to see in Lanxi Town. The roads were potholed, the houses were old, and you might even step in excrement on the road.

After they had finished looking around, Mary took Soraya to the mayor's house, where the town's most knowledgeable old man about history told her about the past of Lanxi Town.

According to Soraya, this is her job as a "historian".

Mary thought that if listening to other people tell stories could be considered work, then this job must be incredibly pleasant.

Over the course of several days, Soraya had roughly pieced together the history of Lanxi Town. The history here was as uneventful as still water. If there was anything worth mentioning, it was probably only the old story mentioned by Father Karl about a monk who donated a sculpture a hundred years ago.

However, due to the passage of time, it is difficult to distinguish between the true and the false, and ultimately there is no way to verify it.

In addition, Soraya did not forget what Roy had entrusted to her.

She pulled Mary to squat down with her, gesturing and lightly sprinkling dirt on herself. After a while, Mary finally understood:

"You want me... to take you to the cemetery?"

Seeing Soraya nod, Mary suddenly felt a strange unease.

This outsider is very strange. Who goes to a place and specifically asks to go to a cemetery?

Mary quickly advised, "That place is gloomy and there's really no good going there. Besides, going in on ordinary days would disturb the people sleeping in the cemetery."

This farm girl, influenced by the priest, firmly believed in the existence of the soul after death.

--hehe.

Soraya could only give a cold smile.

It is true that people have souls after they die, a conclusion reached by necromancers, but only a very small number of people do.

Those who possess this quality must have mental strength far exceeding that of ordinary people, and may even be endowed with wizarding talent.

Moreover, the undead are actually unconscious; it is only because their mental fluctuations are too strong that they unconsciously affect the real world.

She then took out a few more silver coins from her purse.

Soraya firmly believed that the girl was not helping her simply because she hadn't paid enough.

"I understand. Pursuing history... going to the cemetery is perfectly normal, isn't it?" Mary pushed the silver coin back, offering a reasonable explanation for the other person's intentions.

She didn't understand the meaning of the term "historian" at all, but Soraya insisted, and if she continued to refuse, it would seem that she was being unreasonable.

Following the path, the two slowly walked to the hillside in front of the cemetery. There were a few faint tracks on the slope, and Mary chose the most obvious one, leading Soraya uphill.

Faintly, a low murmur could be heard coming from the other side of the hillside.

Mary climbed to the top of the slope and looked across to see a dense, dark crowd crammed together, like crows perched on a withered branch, which startled her.

"Today... is it training day for 'Kingdom Sword'?" Mary counted on her fingers, realized it was indeed today, and scratched her head in annoyance.

Even though these young men were not selected in the draft, their spirits were not dampened, and their dedication to the way of chivalry remained undiminished. Long years of arduous training had already ingrained swordsmanship into their very being, and their swordsmanship instructors were replaced by the original ten masters.

After all, the top ten masters could directly exchange sword skills with Perland mercenaries.

Previously, Soraya had been told not to disturb the deceased's rest, but unexpectedly, she stumbled upon a training session of the "Kingdom Sword," and Mary's face immediately flushed with embarrassment.

Soraya, however, paid little attention to the commotion. Several bees buzzed around the cemetery, searching for a wooden tombstone with the word "Tom" engraved on it.

After spending a considerable amount of time, she finally found the solitary grave in an extremely inconspicuous corner of the cemetery.

After confirming the target location, she gestured for Mary to start, then turned and walked back the way she came.

"Huh? Huh—they're leaving just like that?" Mary had originally planned to introduce her to some local funeral customs—though there didn't seem to be any particularly special customs to speak of. But leaving after just one glance seemed a bit too hasty, didn't it?

……

Historic Estate.

The old steward was wiping down the lord's family's dining utensils.

This wasn't part of his job, but he was utterly devoted to his lord, and he would personally inspect every matter, big or small, concerning his master's daily life, before he could feel at ease. If he were to be even slightly negligent, he would surely slap himself hard!

Just then, a sudden sound of the door being pushed open rang out, and the door slammed against the wall like a dull drumbeat.

Instructor Luo stormed in with an angry expression, his eyes scanning the surroundings anxiously, clearly looking for someone.

This is a restaurant. He was just passing by and didn't expect the butler to be there, so he made a lot of noise.

Upon seeing that familiar figure, the instructor suddenly bowed, his face fawning, like a treacherous minister from ancient times who flattered and fawned.

"Robert?" the old butler demanded. "Why aren't you training those promising knights in the arena? What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Butler!" the instructor immediately began to lament, "I've been sidelined! What am I going to do?"

He then reported that nearly half of the boys had been drawn to practice by Roy.

"You instructed me to treat him like Young Master Leylin, but this is going too far! Isn't this playing with the Lord's future fighting strength?"

Upon hearing this, the old butler roughly understood the seriousness of the matter. He didn't believe that Roy truly had the ability to teach better than the knight's squire who had been immersed in swordsmanship for over twenty years.

Therefore, there can only be one conclusion: he was using his status to bully those teenagers!

The butler had seen this kind of thing countless times over the decades.

Those born into poverty are bullied by the sons of the wealthy, and children from commoner families are oppressed by the offspring of nobles. Even young Master Leylin himself often bears the pressure from Lord Hist. It can be said that throughout the entire Blackwater Territory, apart from Lord Hist, no one is not living in the shadow of some higher class.

"This matter is outside my jurisdiction." After a moment's thought, the old steward suddenly said something that surprised the instructor: "You might as well consult Young Master Leylin. After all, he is a formal knight and can judge the quality of your teaching. Or, you could simply report directly to the lord and ask him to uphold justice for you."

After speaking, he lowered his head again and continued to calmly and meticulously wipe the tableware, showing no intention of continuing to communicate with the instructor.

The instructor stood frozen to one side, his face gradually turning pale.

He got it.

Even the old steward, who had served the lord for decades, was unwilling to easily provoke Roy—because it was clearly a thankless and troublesome matter.

So, this hot potato was thrown back into his own hands.