A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

"Through an arc-shaped or semi-arched support structure?"

"Yes. A series of arched stone columns or half-arches are placed at appropriate points on the building's outer walls. These arched structures extend to independent support columns or buttresses on the exterior. This way, the lateral pressure from the walls is transferred to the external support structure, thereby reducing the load on the walls. The internal support columns that were originally needed can be reduced in number, or even eliminated entirely.

This structure, I call it the 'Flying Buttress'."

(The Flying Buttress is a support structure unique to Gothic architecture. It was first widely used in 12th-century France, with early applications in famous churches like the Notre-Dame Cathedral, showcasing its dual advantages in structure and aesthetics.

The use of Flying Buttresses meant that building walls no longer needed to be extremely thick, allowing them to become lighter and taller while maintaining structural stability. This made it possible to install large stained-glass windows, allowing more natural light to enter the interior and creating a bright, sacred atmosphere.

In traditional Romanesque architecture, walls were thick and windows were small. The support columns severely encroached upon the Church's space, making it difficult for light to penetrate inside.

The advent of the Flying Buttress represented a remarkable leap in the architectural technology of the Middle Ages.)

"A novel concept..." The white-bearded architect stroked his beard, contemplating the feasibility of such a structure.

Meanwhile, the other architects standing nearby began to discuss it amongst themselves.

"An unprecedented idea. It would require precise design and construction, otherwise this structure would be nothing more than an ornament."

"We must ensure the angles and curvature of these arched structures are exact. Furthermore, the support columns must be stable to guarantee the stability of the entire system."

"This is too complex. We can't be sure the common craftsmen in charge of construction would understand it. It's well known their simple minds are ignorant of mathematics and geometry. They can only comprehend their usual routines and their mundane, worthless experience."

"The construction difficulty may increase, but if it can solve the current structural problems with high walls and vaulted ceilings, the benefits are undoubtedly immense."

"..."

Some of the architects were in favor, some couldn't comprehend it, and others were skeptical.

"If this design can be realized, the walls could be made astonishingly thin. We could create larger windows and install stained glass. When light passes through the glass, it will become a kaleidoscope of color, and the nave will be bathed in sacred light and shadow.

The towering dome and open hall could hold countless worshippers to participate in solemn rites. With no dense pillars obstructing the view, God's presence and blessing could be felt in every corner."

Matilda walked over to the wooden model and tapped the wall with her finger. A look of longing filled her eyes, and inwardly she marveled at such an astonishing design. However, she maintained her composure, her tone remaining steady and seemingly as calm as ever.

"Yes, and for the stained glass, we could even hire the best Master Craftsmen to paint the most perfect scenes from the Bible on them." Eric placed a hand on Matilda's shoulder.

"Is it feasible? Mr. Busketto, and all you distinguished architects of Tuscan, I want your opinions now. Given the difficulty of this design, I will hire any architect willing to try." Matilda looked at the white-bearded architect, then shifted her gaze to the rest of them.

The architects exchanged glances. They had never attempted such a structure before, and if the dome failed, they, as the architects, would have to bear full responsibility.

Not getting paid would be a minor issue; this would be a stain on their entire careers as architects.

"Me! Me! Marchioness, I'll give it a try!" A young architect darted out from the crowd, running toward Matilda with his hand raised. "I have a feeling this will be a groundbreaking achievement worthy of being recorded in the history of art. Anyone who refuses is a true fool."

Once there was a first, a second and third were not far behind.

"Count me in! It's not like I'm going back to Pavia anyway. My reputation can't get any worse. Since the Marchioness thinks me worthy."

"And me! For an architect, building one great Church in a lifetime is enough!"

Matilda instantly fanned the flames. "I will increase the architects' salaries. Those who join now will receive a salary of forty Marks per year."

(In eleventh-century Northern Italy, the Mark was a common currency. The annual salary for the best architects was around 36 Marks. The price of a horse was about 10 to 20 Marks. 1 Mark was equivalent to 160 silver pence, a laborer's daily wage was 1 to 2 silver pence, and 1 silver pence could buy 1kg of bread.)

"I'm in too! A thousand ordinary churches can't compare to one unprecedented Cathedral!"

"Me too! My master used to say, 'The rougher the waves, the more valuable the fish'!"

"..."

In the end, a total of eight architects chose to join the project.

...

After leaving the architects' room, Matilda looked at Eric.

"You actually know about architecture?"

"A little. I studied for a while at the Roman Divinity School. They teach everything there," Eric said, spouting nonsense with a straight face.

"Is that so? Hilbrand was my tutor, and I've never heard that he had any expertise in architecture. As far as I know, a Divinity School only teaches the Seven Liberal Arts, or theology, medicine, and law after that.

Does the theology curriculum include this?" Matilda crossed her arms.

"There are two ways to perceive God. Besides the spiritual, there is also the worldly. We can feel a sense of beauty from nature, from this world. This sense of beauty is independent of order or chaos, yet humans can perceive it the moment they see it, through the reason God has given them.

Without a doubt, beauty is God's creation, an attribute He intentionally bestowed upon the world. Countless Saints have expounded upon this view; I'm sure you may have heard it as well.

What is He trying to tell us?

It's like how people want to pick a beautiful flower when they see one. If God didn't want us to interact with these things, why would He go to the trouble of making them so beautiful in our eyes?

The Ancient Greeks were captivated by this natural beauty and sought to observe and understand it—to understand its existence and workings. They developed this into a field of study they called 'science'.

They sought to make nature serve them, even creating incredible things they called 'machines'.

I had a tutor who once told me the same. That the divine design will one day include machines, and that science is just a natural and wholesome miracle.

One day, through the harnessing of natural forces, a nautical vessel may be created that allows a single person to navigate it, faster than any ship with sails and oars..."

"Let me guess. This so-called tutor... happens to be a Norman, and his last name is Outville, right? Anyway, it sounds a bit like a bedtime st—" Matilda didn't get to finish her sentence.

A guard came running over. After bowing to Matilda, he looked at Eric. "Marquis, there is someone outside looking for you."

"Who?"

"She said you would know when you see her. The crest on their banner is nearly identical to yours, so they appear to be from your family. Perhaps they were sent by your father. We have shown them to the great hall."

"Alright." Eric nodded, intending to say something to Matilda first.

But when he turned his head, Matilda, who had been standing beside him just a moment ago, was gone.

"Ah..." Eric tapped his forehead with a finger, a slight headache coming on.

He had noticed the guard's choice of words.

'She?'

'It couldn't be that detestable stepmother of mine, could it?'

'That old fool... he can't be so muddle-headed as to send *her* here, can he?'

He got a headache just thinking about spending a few seconds with that sharp-tongued stepmother.

The moment her image popped into his head, he could almost instantly recall that acrid feeling.

It wasn't that Eric was afraid of her, but if it really was her, he would have to pretend to be completely unbothered by their past, perhaps even act like they were a close, loving family.

The thought of having to play the part of a dutiful stepson made Eric feel sick to his stomach.

If it really was her, Eric hoped she would behave herself. Though he knew that with his stepmother's personality, she wouldn't hold her tongue even in the direst of straits. She and the old man were a match made in heaven, both possessing an almost arrogant self-confidence.

A short while later, the guard led Eric to the receiving hall. Without waiting for Eric's permission, the guard threw open the doors.

The guard moved so quickly that the doors slammed against the wall, making a loud noise.

It startled the person inside. A young woman turned around, trying to find the source of the sound.

The woman had delicate features. She wore a pale green silk robe with a white satin collar at the throat, fastened on the left side with small rectangular buttons. Because of her small frame, her moderately sized sleeves were so long they hid her hands from view.

"Aunt Judith? What are you doing here?" Eric recognized the woman before him.

Judith de Evreux, the wife of his younger uncle Roger, a second-generation cousin of Conqueror William. The current Count of Evreux in Normandy was her first cousin.

"To give my dearest nephew, our family's cleverest Xiaoai, my wedding blessings, and to witness your marriage and share in your joy! I set out without a moment's delay as soon as I received the invitation. That fellow Roger was rushing me quite a bit."

Judith trotted over to Eric, but instead of a hug, she punched him in the side.

Of course, it wasn't a hard punch, just a playful gesture.

Then she stood on her tiptoes, reached up, and measured Eric's height with her hand.

"Ah, Xiaoai has gotten taller again. But it looks like your belly is still in good shape. Bohemond made a bet with me that you'd have gotten a potbelly, because the monks in England eat anything and everything, and you, Xiaoai, have never been one for rules.

I took the other side of that bet, because Xiaoai has always been good at disappointing Bohemond.

Everyone knows that Giscard's sons are as tall as giants and as strong as eagles. I remember when you were little, Bohemond was so proud of this, he'd drag you over to compare heights whenever he had a spare moment.

If you had actually gotten a potbelly like he said, he would have been thrilled."

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