Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 343 Pastoral
"I'm really stupid, really." Dominic leaned against the haystack, holding his crutches with despair, watching the farmhands and craftsmen busying around. "I just knew that driving would be a little difficult, but I didn't expect things to be so bad."

"Mr. Kraft must be angry. We'll just have to farm this land until we die. I hope he can think of a job that can make use of the waste."

Field didn't dare to say a word and stuffed a wild berry into his mouth. This piece of wasteland that had not been visited by anyone for a long time was dotted with sporadic little surprises arranged by nature. The orange-red skin was plump and warm, wrapped in a slightly astringent sweet juice, which was perfect.

Although he had different opinions on the current arrangement, it was best for him to keep a low profile while his companions were still angry.

After the accident, the two were quickly sent to the foot of the mountain, responsible for directing hired farmhands and craftsmen to rebuild the manor attached to the monastery.

Brother Raymond, who was in charge of the communication, called this "a long and arduous task that concerns the future foundation of the Knights Templar." It requires careful planning. Before the next sowing season, areas such as staple food and supplementary food reserves, herb planting, horse farms, workshops, etc. should be prepared, and upstream and downstream locations should be allocated according to water demand and pollution levels.

The specific draft plan was several pages long and included several blank spaces that Kraft had specifically designated as areas away from flowing water or production and living areas, without any additional markings.

At first glance, it seems like a heavy responsibility, but once you actually take over, you find that this is not the case at all.

At present, they are still in the initial stage of repairing various infrastructures and reclaiming wasteland.

It is impossible for the local farmhands to immediately give up their wheat fields that are about to be harvested and come to work here, and most of the original facilities that have been abandoned for more than 20 years can only be rebuilt. Everything is moving at a worrying speed.

As outsiders, they can neither guide the locals on how to farm nor provide technical guidance to professional craftsmen. Their daily job is to oversee the overall situation and monitor progress, or to put it bluntly, to be the mascot of the construction site.

The two of them are so bored every day that it is unlikely that they can achieve anything.

"Actually, I think since Mr. Kraft still requires us to write a written report every three days, it means he has no intention of marginalizing us." To be fair, Field felt that a person who was busy all day would not be willing to take time out every three days to read meaningless reports.

They were even specifically told that if there were special circumstances, including personal problems, someone could directly convey the message verbally on the same day without having to wait.

To be honest, he was very confused about what worth mentioning could be dug out of the soil. During this period of time, apart from being in a daze, he was racking his brains to think about how to put together a report and hand it over to the people who came down the mountain regularly to purchase goods.

While Dominic was still in the stage of self-pity, he had basically gotten used to the pastoral life. Without considering his future, staying here was actually a middle-to-upper choice, allowing him to devote more energy to finding personal interests and hobbies.

After tasting another reddish berry, he sighed with contentment. It would be nice to live this leisurely life for a few more days.

It would be even better if there was sugar. The berry season is usually very short, and boiling berries with sugar to make jam will allow you to savor the flavor during the winter when supplies are scarce.

I handed the wooden plate of fruit to the side. Dominic didn't respond. Perhaps the impact of the accident had not subsided yet. His originally not very active personality became even quieter.

Occasionally, he could be seen in a daze, as if thinking about something, and he wouldn't say anything when asked.

"Do you need to find something to read? I brought a collection of stories I copied myself. Are you interested?"

"What?" Dominic paused for a moment, and took a moment to realize that he was being called. "Oh, no, I've seen those at least three times."

"What's wrong with you? Did you hurt your brain?" It was obvious from his appearance that he was distracted again. I hope it's not the sequelae of the accident, that would be too guilty.

But it’s not good to have nothing to do all the time. You should find some activities to help your friends recover as soon as possible.

"Want to take a walk?" Dominic's eyes suddenly went dark, blocking his wandering vision and thoughts.

He lifted the thing off his face and found a thorny straw hat, woven from the most common broad-leaved weeds, but with the tiny thorns on the tips removed and the top twisted into a strange swirl-like pattern.

The level is indeed average, but it is definitely not Field's workmanship.

"Where did it come from?"

"Someone gave it to me." Field raised his chin towards the field and pointed. He could see a young-looking girl following a middle-aged woman to collect and bundle hay.

"Her father was not in good health, so I helped with some prayers. This is a return gift."

Then the hat was casually put on Dominic's face.

"You should treat the gifts from believers more carefully. Whether it is a straw hat or a gold coin, they are equal in the eyes of the Lord." It is a professional instinct to build good relationships with believers in the jurisdiction, especially when it comes to rewards for blessing and preaching. You have to wear it for a few days.

"I know, I know." Field waved his hand nonchalantly, stood up, patted the grass behind him, and stretched his arms.

Dominic's injured leg has been in good condition these days, and Kraft also inferred that it was at most a fracture. He can already bear some force and can walk a few steps with crutches.

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"Is this the only weird hat they have, or is it..."

Or do they all look like this? Dominic looked at the workers, most of whom wore straw hats to protect themselves from the sun, and got the answer.

Indeed, perhaps as a local feature, homemade hats all have a slightly bulky swirl, like the curled white foam on the surface of the water surrounding the settlement when it is stirred up by oars or schools of fish.

"Oh, I asked that too. She said this kind of hat would protect and bless me. Maybe it's like a talisman or something like that?"

"Really? The surrounding area has long been a diocese. Shouldn't we wear the holy emblem for protection?"

"It's not surprising. You can't wear a holy emblem on your head. Every place has its own customs. There's no need to interfere." Field extended a hand to his companion to help him stand up. "According to the old people, this hat is shaped like a cloud, which will make something in the sky think you are also a floating cloud, so you are safe."

"never heard of that."

Field patted the thick grass whorl on the top of his hat. "I don't have one either, but at least it can block small stones and branches that fall from the mountain. Maybe that's the reason."

"So you want to go wandering around? Go to the village, or go to some of the gentler hills I asked about."

"Good idea, I'm almost rusting to death." Dominic agreed readily. The excessive free time made people feel almost panic-stricken. Some vague thoughts always popped up in a trance, occasionally touching their overly sensitive nerves.

It was time to move around and find something to do. Considering that the written records in the monastery were almost completely destroyed, perhaps a new overview of the surrounding environment and humanities would enrich the report and make Kraft look at them with new eyes.

(End of this chapter)