Chapter 402: Side Story: Another World Line [1]

Side Story: Another World Line 【1】

When the evening bell first echoed through the Priyer Basin, Jerome saw the legendary monastery.

The pure white marble Gao Ta, like a silver needle buried in flesh, pierced through the tree canopy and rocks, towering over the cloud-shrouded mountain peak, making its presence impossible to ignore.

【Bai Ta】

As a semi-fortified structure built in ancient times, its original name has been lost; the new owner who moved in renovated it within half a year, erected that tower of unknown purpose at no expense, and named the knightly order's headquarters after it.

The Grand Master, formerly a doctor, seems to have an obsession with white even deeper than that of church officials, favoring pristine white clothing, decor, and light sources to such a degree of extravagance that even people far away in Dunling have heard of it.

This may be the most modest of all his hobbies.

Merchant caravans drawn by profit voluntarily became the knightly order's tentacles, drawing wealth from all of North and from nations across the strait, entering the gates of this building alongside a steady stream of inquisitors, and vanishing without a trace ever since.

In return, the knightly order offered its collaborators the most precious thing in this world—the forgiveness promised by the Heavenly Father. Bottled miracles were said to, once entering the bloodstream, protect anyone from disease. Just one injection, at most three, could quell high fevers and disperse abscesses.

And rumors held that the Grand Master himself could perform miracles in the truest sense, extracting deep-seated lesions directly without any visible wounds on the body.

The value of this grace is hard to measure with earthly wealth; although there are always those who offer sums enough to make the Heavenly Father's representative soften their stance, the central figure of these rumors has grown increasingly reclusive, not performing publicly for a long time.

The last relatively famous record was a secret treatment performed at the invitation of Duke Westmin; with no witnesses to confirm it, all that is known is that the Duke resumed his active life afterward.

Regarding various behaviors that did not quite align with doctrine, the Papacy maintained a strange silence. Their share of the miracles, the ever-growing scale of the ocean-going fleets, and the offerings had already answered for them.

Jerome did not know what that number was, but for the previously less-favored library history and literature department, the communion standards and funding had visibly multiplied several times over.

So when the Master received an invitation and instructed him to go in his stead, he hesitated not a single second, setting out on the journey amidst the envious gazes of his colleagues.

The caravan escorting this group of scholars came from a family that had once specialized in jewelry and ornaments, rapidly rising to fortune in recent years by connecting with the knightly order.

But what does that have to do with a humble scholar of kingdom history?

Everyone knew the Bai Ta Monastery had always been indifferent to matters beyond medicine; past invitees were mostly industry giants from major academies, and it was likely just to organize historical documents gathering dust in the library's corners that someone was temporarily added to the list.

And as a niche interdisciplinary field combining kingdom history and heraldry, it had always been sparsely populated, which is why he, an unknown figure, got to step onto the stage.

If nothing unexpected happened, upon arrival he would only need to show his skills in the library and at the tea break.

Thinking about it made him feel a little excited; the Bai Ta Monastery, the birthplace of academic conference tea breaks, must have very high standards for tea breaks, right?

He had already heard the invited scholars from the neighboring Rivers University discussing last year's reception banquet; reportedly, the menu was no less than that of a ducal banquet, and there was even a chance to see the legendary Grand Master of the knightly order in person, the creator of miracles, which was something to brag about for a long time upon returning.

The caravan was clearly not transporting scholars like them for the first time; after a brief negotiation with the checkpoint guards, they drove the carriages up the mountain road. The road surface, filled with small gravel and fine sand, had almost no bumpiness, leaving visitors leisure to admire the contents within the rock cliff niches.

Night-patrolling monks moved down the inner side of the mountain path, adding oil to the eternal lamps one by one. The full flames illuminated the freshly painted, vivid colors of the clothing on the relief figures; even those with no artistic attainment could appreciate the abundant wealth behind the pigments.

The martyr saints in the scenes were not pierced by iron nails or burned at the stake, but were pulled toward the heavens in an exaggerated manner, their figures slender and light, or floating upward with heads raised, receiving worship from the monks.

Upon closer inspection, their faces were blurred, their bones elongated; the split hems of their robes curled like wings, resembling a butterfly breaking from its cocoon, while overlapping light sources made the shadows twist and fork, slithering and coiling around the crowd.

Even Jerome, accustomed to various bold creations in saintly scripture stories, found it hard to accept such a style of expression. The divinity was too heavy, overshadowing the human element, causing the proportions to tilt out of balance.

However, he quickly put aside his negative emotions; this was the headquarters of the knightly order, and a small monk had no right to comment casually. If there truly was some profound reasoning behind it, he would only appear unlearned and merely annoy others.

To mask his thoughts, he even proactively discussed the corresponding scripture stories and historical background with the medical school representative traveling with him, earning a round of praise, making the relief carvings that looked so strange in any other way appear much more agreeable.

With the conversation going so well, the tedious journey passed in an instant.

The caravan drove through the monastery's main gate, where a young lady in a knight's hunting outfit received everyone in the courtyard, exchanging cold but polite greetings with each invited guest, explaining that the Master was recently unwell, that she was standing in for him, and apologizing for his absence from the banquet.

【Are there illnesses that even miracles cannot cure?】

Jerome suspected it was an excuse, but the medical school members, who were clearly not attending the banquet for the first time, raised no doubts, expressing only regret that they would not have the chance to exchange views with the Master in person this year, and tactfully inquiring if they could ask her some questions regarding pharmaceutical production.

From the conversation, it could be vaguely heard that this lady seemed to be one of the professor's disciples, currently fully responsible for the key links in the production of the "miracle" drugs.

"May I ask if you are Brother Jerome, serving in the Cathedral of the Holy Mother's library?" An unexpected greeting interrupted his thoughts; the young lady suddenly turned toward the monk who was trying to figure out where to hide to eat, catching him off guard. "Your seat is here."

She led the monk to the table, lifted and pulled out a high-backed chair made of solid wood with one hand. "It is truly a pity that your revered Master could not come in person; fortunately, Judge Grimm recommended you, and we believe your research in the field will be of great help to us."

"Your Excellency the Judge is too kind. It is laughable, really; I have not yet achieved sufficient academic results to prove myself, and I am worried about how to obtain my degree under the Master."

Jerome was overwhelmed with gratitude; he instinctively shifted his chair, trying to hide half his body under the table, but failed to move it.

Now he finally understood why it was him; perhaps the ever-rising Judge Grimm had finally remembered a favor owed and casually offered this opportunity.

To be honest, the unexpected attention made his state of mind uneasy.

And his thoughts, in the other's eyes, were like candlelight in a crystal chandelier, observed in a disturbing manner.

"No need to worry; that is precisely your strongest area, and if all goes well, it may even benefit your academic development."

The chair was pushed forward a suitable distance; waiters were serving the pre-dinner appetizers one by one: chestnut paste balls drizzled with wild berry jam, fish aspic, smoked mountain pheasant with goat cheese, each meticulously cut and shaped, with perfect color and aroma.

"Of course, discussing such matters now would only spoil the dinner appetite. Please rest assured; it is only a few lost coats of arms that need tracing."

"That is wonderful then; I will do my utmost to help. Even if it is a severed royal branch, as long as there is a reference, I can dig it out for you."

(End of Chapter)