A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

’I believe you can uncover the truth behind Seric Monk’s death, even if you’ve never set foot at the scene of the crime.’

’Is that something a person would actually say?’

After their conversation, Eric internally griped about Torod’s bizarre request.

Gwen, however, was quite pleased.

The two walked out of Torod’s office and down the stairs, arriving in the main hall on the first floor.

"Alright, alright. You’re not a real Referee, so why get so worked up? Our mission now is to find where they’ve hidden Dean Brand." Gwen smiled and waved a hand at Eric, signaling for him to relax.

"Sigh. Since he was so insistent that we can’t enter the library on the Cathedral’s top floor, Dean Brand is probably hidden right there," Eric sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"Everyone here is a Cultivator who’s probably never lifted anything heavier than a book. As for the Church’s lock, all it’ll take is a little nudge from me and..." Gwen crossed her arms, looking completely confident.

Before Gwen could finish, Eric pointed toward something outside the hall.

In the courtyard by the stable, a dozen or so ’Cultivators’ were polishing their Longswords. Their armor hung on wooden poles, drying in the sun.

With their powerful builds, these Cultivators looked nothing like Cultivators at all.

"Those are..."

"The Monastery’s household knights, kept on retainer."

This was a new development for monasteries in England, but it was a common practice for those in Normandy.

A Monastery possessing great wealth and land was a vassal of the Duke of Normandy. It owed military service to its Supreme Lord, fulfilling its feudal obligations. When the Lord needed to wage war, the Monastery, as his vassal, was required to provide Knights.

Their military burden, however, was somewhat lighter than that of a typical secular lord.

Furthermore, because a Monastery was a spiritual, non-hereditary institution, it was typically reluctant to grant fiefs to Knights. Thus, their Knights were mostly household knights.

After the Norman Conquest, William did not promote this system, as it was far from cost-effective. However, it was perfectly suited for the North, a region ravaged by war, its lands left barren and its social order shattered.

No secular lord wished to be granted a fief in the North. Entrusting the vast northern territories to spiritual monasteries, making them responsible for maintaining order, was therefore a perfect solution.

Perhaps the English in the North would find it easier to accept these spiritual lords than an openly Norman one.

"The Normans are so wicked. How dare they shove Knights into a holy place like a Monastery! Knighthood is a sin. They live by the sword, which is forbidden by the Lord of Heaven!" Gwen wrinkled her nose, filled with righteous indignation.

"You actually care about that? Does it affect you in some way?" Eric asked, surprised.

"What’s that supposed to mean! I’m very devout, you know." Gwen was indignant at Eric’s dismissive attitude.

"Devout? Such as...?"

"Every month, I go to great trouble to transport the Lord of Heaven’s gifts from the Monastery. Then, with a heart full of compassion, I bestow them upon the poor believers of the Lord of Heaven. Do you have any idea how tiring that is?" Gwen patted her chest, feigning a look of sorrow.

"It’s truly a wonder, how you make theft sound so elegant and pious," Eric said, shaking his head with a sigh.

’Damn it. This is the first time since coming to this world that I’ve met someone more shameless than myself.’

As Eric and Gwen were speaking, a Cultivator approached them. He was very young, with a head of brown, curly hair so perfectly sculpted it looked like something from an Ancient Roman sculpture.

"I am Aldred, the Deacon of this Monastery. The dean sent me to show you to the rooms where you will be staying for the next few days."

Aldred’s Latin was flawless, without the slightest trace of an accent.

"My name is William, and this is AsoDe, my disciple," Eric replied in English.

"My dear Mr. William, you speak English?" Aldred asked, somewhat surprised.

Few Frenchmen would bother to learn English.

’In Aldred’s experience, they were typically arrogant and self-important, looking down on the English.’

"When in Rome. I find it’s best to use the local language wherever one works. Language is merely a tool. You use whichever one is most convenient for the task at hand," Eric said with a light chuckle.

"Indeed, Mr. William. Your tolerance and wisdom are a delight. I trust we will get along splendidly in the coming days. May we both learn a great deal from one another..."

Aldred seemed to be getting excited, his voice rising in volume without him noticing.

He quickly caught himself and lowered his voice.

"The pleasure would be all mine," Eric replied, affecting a humble demeanor.

’Due to the Norman Conquest, the English had become exceptionally sensitive about their national identity.’

’Therefore, it was easy to win their favor with a few simple, cheap tricks.’

Aldred nodded and began to lead Eric away.

Eric asked him about Seric Monk.

"I didn’t know Seric well. He was a very eager learner, a good lad, with a fanatical passion for God’s work. He could perform even the most tedious tasks to perfection.

He was our finest illuminator. He created nearly all the decorative art for our books, and his work was exquisite, beyond compare.

Unfortunately, Dean Torod doesn’t value such things. After he arrived, all work on producing books basically ceased. He won’t even let anyone into the library.

I think it was because of this that he...唉...

If a Cultivator cannot pursue knowledge, then what is the point of his existence? Rejecting wisdom and fostering ignorance is surely not what God desires. God takes no joy in foolishness," Aldred lamented.

"Why won’t he let anyone in the library? From the outside, it looks magnificent. I imagine it must have a brilliant history," Eric said, following Aldred’s lead.

"During the Nor— uh, I mean, a very long time ago, this Monastery had a glorious history. It may sound like an exaggeration, but it is the truth. Our collection is more extensive than that of any other library in the Church.

The libraries of Bobbio, Pomposa, Cluny, or Fleury are nothing compared to ours. The six thousand ancient manuscripts that Novarisa in Piedmont, Italy, boasted of a century ago are trivial next to our collection; it’s quite possible many of them are housed here right now.

In the entire Catholic World, only our Monastery can stand against the thirty-six libraries of Baghdad, against Alkami’s ten thousand ancient volumes. Our collection of Biblical scriptures is certainly no less impressive than the two thousand four hundred copies of the Quran that are the pride of Cairo.

Years ago, the Heretics claimed the library in Tripoli possessed six million books, with eighty thousand annotators and two hundred Copyists in permanent residence. But our collection is more than comparable.

The wise man of Northumbria, Saint Alkun, forged his intellect and honed his Devotion to God within our walls as a youth. After completing his mission across the channel, he spent the rest of his life here, until he was called home by God. All the divine wisdom he came to know, he compiled into books, which are now preserved in our Monastery."

Aldred stopped in his tracks and spoke to Eric with considerable pride.

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