Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 348 Curly Pattern
"I have good news. Mr. Kraft's assistant will be passing by the manor today. Maybe we can ask him to say a few good words for us."

"It's not necessary. It's just daily work. Even farmers know not to boast about land that has not yet been harvested." Dominic looked down at the basin, pushed his hair back on his forehead, tightened the collar of his monastic robe, and straightened the buckles of his cloak with the emblem of the church.

"Our best strategy should be to completely disappear from the monastery's sight for a few months. When Mr. Kraft has almost forgotten about the carriage cursed by the devil, the manor should have some visible results."

"So where are you going now?"

"Go visit old John's."

The figure in the water was well-dressed, with a shiny forehead, which was consistent with the image of a monk visiting on official business. "Let's go together?"

"No, are you really going to continue to take care of this matter?"

"are you going?"

"go."

Leaving the main road and walking half a circle along the periphery of the settlement, you can see Old John's house near a languid, uncared-for wheat field. To be more precise, this is the home of Old John's son, Little John.

Despite having had a lot of contact with the local residents, the monks knew very little about this family.

Women would talk about who was the most skillful at needlework, men would compare their drinking capacity and strength, and children would discuss which family grew fruits that they could steal and eat.

As long as you delve into the trivialities, you will find that the seemingly complex villages and towns are actually very small, like a finely woven spider web. Due to the lack of entertainment activities, any trivial matter or anecdote will be quickly transmitted from one end to the other, and you will learn about the same thing repeatedly from different people's different perspectives.

However, there will always be some people who remain on the edge of this network, whether because they are uninteresting or because others subconsciously distance themselves from them.

Their homes, like themselves, are located in less noticed places, old and ordinary, and it is hard to find anything praiseworthy about them.

Although the owner of the house was not easy-going, fortunately he was not as eccentric as imagined. After explaining their identities, the two monks were quickly allowed to enter.

Pushing open the half-open wooden door, Dominic saw "Little John", a man who looked older than the stonemason, sitting on a wooden bench by the window, holding a half-finished object between his legs against his chest.

It looked like a basket, woven in circles with hazel sticks freshly picked from the mountains. It was not sealed yet, so he couldn't stand up and open the door. It was not that he intended to ignore the visitor.

The lighting in the house is limited. As the light turns dark, the vision becomes dim and unclear. I can only see half a figure and twisted soft branches.

"May God bless you, my friend."

"Thank you, what is this?"

"We are new monks in the monastery. We are planning to organize a mass to reconnect the church with believers, so we hope to meet with every friend who shares the same faith and personally extend an invitation."

Dominic observed the other party, especially when he mentioned "faith" and "Heavenly Father". He didn't know what he was waiting for, like a rock climber longing for an uneven bulge or depression above to take a step further and get closer to an invisible destination.

"Oh, of course." Little John answered as a matter of course, and his hands moved again, pulling the soft and tender hazel branches, overlapping and weaving them into the embryonic form of the object.

He was skilled in his technique, alternating left and right. Without any deliberate control, he could arrange the tendons into a dazzling pattern, expanding from the inside to the outside. It didn't seem like he was doing it occasionally for his own use, but rather as a profession. "When is it? I'll be there on time."

"We will hold several small gatherings every weekend. If the response is good, the Holy Day after the autumn harvest will be a good day for celebration." This was an activity that had been planned and was also suitable for introducing other content.

"In addition to praying together and sharing blessings, this is also a good opportunity to communicate with neighbors." After my eyes adjusted to the indoor environment, my vision finally became more comfortable, and my peripheral vision began to wander around.

“Conflicts that are difficult to resolve at ordinary times can, I believe, be resolved smoothly under the witness of Heavenly Father.”

There were a lot of woven items piled up in the room. The big ones were stacked together, similar to what Little John was holding, probably storage baskets; the small and flat ones were hung on the wall. These had been seen before, they were the wide-brimmed hats that Field had received before, but the workmanship was more professional, with a smooth spiral vortex texture from the center to the outside, giving it a unique decorative effect.

As the weave goes outward, the density decreases slightly, forming a loose but not loose edge. The raw edges are not trimmed, giving a soft feeling that it is still expanding outward.

"Well, I'll go." Little John answered neither lightly nor seriously, with no emotion in his voice.

The topic was basically over. According to the procedure, it was time to leave the small gift and go. However, the monk had no intention of stopping there and had to find a topic to talk about.

"Good work, are you a basket maker?"

Both cities and towns need this type of people, who transform cheap materials into daily-use woven baskets, hand baskets, hats, and even beehives and backpacks. Some of the exquisite ones will even appear in ceremonies as sacred baskets.

I have used and seen many in the past, but I have no impression of this style. The technique is more complicated, the finished product is thicker and has a sense of layering and three-dimensionality.

"This is a craft passed down from my ancestors, and I only know how to weave these." As he spoke, little John finished another circle.

The method of weaving baskets seems to have a lot in common with hats, which are complicated but follow a roughly similar spiral direction.

Most of his attention is on his work, and the repetitive circles and crosses show his devotion to his craft, as if he were a meditative ascetic turning his rosary beads as he chanted silently.

Dominic was too embarrassed to bother him any further. This kind of craftsman family who focused on their craftsmanship had relatively stable beliefs and economic conditions. Seeing a son was like seeing a father, so the tomb robbery was likely a misunderstanding.

Invite the stonemasons and basket makers together next Sunday and talk it out in person.

"Then we will take our leave now. May God bless you."

Dominic pulled out the hand-carved holy emblem amulet that he had prepared in advance and was about to give it to the other party, but he realized that the other party did not come to receive it empty-handed.

He looked around, trying to find an empty spot to hang it up temporarily.

The room was filled with similar vortices, slowly spinning under the visual illusion caused by weak light, layered, light and complex.

This reminded him of what Field had said, about the origin of the shape of the straw hat. The vortex was like some strange cloud, spinning and curling up due to air currents or something else, confusing everything within his field of vision. A feeling of nausea and dizziness filled his nasopharynx.

But it would be too rude to leave in a hurry, so Dominic looked up, trying to escape from the shape and the nausea.

What comes into view is the roof covered with hay, where the straw and wheat stalks are twisted together and contracted inwards like a spiral, forming a roof in the sky.
【vortex?】