Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 372: Another World Line [1]

That evening the bells echoed for the first time in the Priyères Basin, and Jerome saw the legendary abbey.

The pure white marble tower is like a silver needle embedded in the flesh, penetrating from the treetops and rocks, standing tall on the cloud-shrouded mountain top, making it impossible to ignore its existence.

【White Pagoda】

As a semi-fortress-style building built in ancient times, its original name has been lost. The new owner renovated it within half a year, erected a tower of unknown purpose at all costs, and named the headquarters of the Knights after it.

The great mentor, who was a doctor, seemed to have a deeper obsession with the color white than the church members. He liked clean, pure white clothing, decorations, and light sources, even to the point of being extravagant. Even people as far away as Dunling had heard of it.

This was perhaps the simplest of all his hobbies.

The caravans that came for profit voluntarily became the tentacles of the Knights Templar, absorbing the wealth of all of North and even the countries across the strait. They entered the gate of this building together with a steady stream of peepers, and have not been heard from since.

The Knights rewarded their cooperation with the most precious gift in the world: the forgiveness promised by the Heavenly Father. The bottled miracle was said to be able to protect anyone from the plague as long as it entered the blood vessels. Only one injection, or at most three injections, could calm a high fever and dissipate an abscess.

And it is rumored that the Grand Master himself can perform true miracles, removing deep-seated lesions without causing any surface wounds.

The value of this grace is difficult to measure with earthly wealth. Although there are always people who can offer a number that is high enough to make the Heavenly Father's spokesperson give in, the core figure in the rumor has become more and more reclusive and has not taken any public action for a long time.

The last relatively famous record was when he was invited by the Duke of Westminster to undergo a secret treatment. There was no confirmation from bystanders, but it was known that the Duke became active again from then on.

The Church remained strangely silent about various actions that were not in line with the doctrine. The share of miracles they received, the growing size of their ocean-going fleet, and the donations had already answered their questions.

Jerome didn't know what the number was, but as a historical and cultural department of the library that had been less valued in the past, the Communion standards and funding had increased several times and it was visible to the naked eye.

So when his mentor received the invitation and asked him to come instead, he did not hesitate for even a second and embarked on the journey amid the envious gazes of his colleagues.

The convoy escorting this group of scholars came from a family that once specialized in jewelry and had rapidly prospered in recent years by connecting with the Knights Templar.

But what does this have to do with him, a small scholar of kingdom history?

Everyone knows that the White Tower Monastery has always been indifferent to matters other than medicine. Most of the people invited in the past were industry giants from various colleges. It is estimated that they added people to the list temporarily in order to sort out the historical documents that were gathering dust in the corner of the collection.

As the unpopular interdisciplinary subject of kingdom history and heraldry has always been sparsely populated, it is only his turn as an unknown person to take the stage.

If nothing goes wrong, he will just have to show off his skills in the library and during tea breaks when he gets there.

I feel a little excited when I think about it. The White Tower Monastery is the birthplace of tea breaks at academic conferences. The tea break standards must be very high, right?

He had heard the invited scholars from the neighboring Rivers University talking about last year's reception dinner. It was said that the menu was as good as the Duke's banquet, and there would be a chance to meet the legendary Grand Master of the Knights Templar and the creator of miracles. This was something he could brag about for a long time when he returned.

This was obviously not the first time the convoy had picked up scholars like them. After a brief negotiation with the checkpoint guards, they drove the carriage up the mountain road. The road surface filled with small pieces of gravel and fine sand was almost not bumpy, and the visitors had the leisure to appreciate the contents of the niches in the cliffs.

The monks on night patrol walked down the inner side of the mountain road, adding oil to the eternal lamps one by one. The full flames illuminated the bright colors of the newly colored clothes of the relief figures. Even those without artistic attainments could appreciate the abundant financial resources behind the pigments. The martyrs in the picture were not pierced by nails or burned at the stake, but were pulled toward the sky in an exaggerated way, with slender and light figures, or floating in the air with their heads raised, and worshiped by the monks.

Upon closer inspection, his face was blurred, his bones were elongated, the corners of his torn robes were curled like wings, as if he was breaking out of a cocoon and transforming, while the overlapping light sources caused his shadow to twist and fork, snaking around everyone.

Even Jerome, who was used to seeing all kinds of bold biblical stories, found it difficult to accept such a way of expression. The divinity was too heavy, so that it overshadowed the human part, resulting in a disproportionate proportion.

However, he quickly put away his negative emotions. This was the headquarters of the Knights, and a small monk had no right to comment casually. If there really was a profound truth in it, he would be seen as unlearned and annoying.

In order to conceal his thoughts, he even took the initiative to talk to representatives from the medical school about the corresponding sacred stories and historical background, which earned him a lot of praise. The reliefs, which seemed weird no matter how you looked at them, became much more pleasing to the eye.

As we had a great time chatting, the boring journey passed in a flash.

The convoy drove into the main gate of the monastery, and a young lady in knight's hunting clothes received everyone in the courtyard. She greeted each invited visitor coldly but politely, saying that the master had been ill recently, and she came forward to apologize for missing the dinner on his behalf.

[Are there diseases that cannot be cured by miracles? ]

Jerome suspected it was an excuse, but the medical school member, who was obviously not attending the banquet for the first time, had no doubt about it. He only expressed regret that he did not have the opportunity to communicate with the master face to face this year, and asked in a sideways manner if he could ask her some questions about pharmaceuticals.

From the conversation, it can be vaguely heard that this lady seems to be one of the professor's disciples, and is fully responsible for the key links in the production of the "miracle" drug.

"Excuse me, are you Brother Jerome who works at the library of Notre Dame Cathedral?" The unexpected greeting interrupted her thoughts. The young lady suddenly turned to the monk who was looking for a place to hide and eat, catching him off guard. "Your position is here."

She led the monk to the table, lifted up the high-backed chair made of solid wood with one hand, and pulled it open. "It's a pity that the Master was unable to come in person. Fortunately, Chief Judge Green recommended you. I believe that your research in this field will be of great help to us."

"Your Excellency the Presiding Judge, you are too kind. It's ridiculous to say that I haven't achieved enough academic results to prove myself, and I am worried about how to get a degree from my tutor."

Jerome was flattered and subconsciously moved his chair, trying to hide half of his body under the table, but failed to move.

Now I finally understand why it was him. Perhaps Chief Judge Green, who had been promoted all the way, finally remembered that he had a favor to repay and gave him the opportunity.

To be honest, the unexpected attention made me feel uneasy.

And his thoughts were seen in the other person's eyes like the candlelight in a glass chandelier, in an unsettling way.

"Don't worry, that's what you're best at. If all goes well, it may even be beneficial to your academic development."

The chairs were pushed forward a suitable distance, and the waiters were bringing out the appetizers one by one, including chestnut puree balls with wild berry jam, fish jelly, and smoked pheasant with goat cheese. Each dish was delicately cut and shaped, and looked and smelled delicious.

"Of course, talking about this now would spoil my appetite for dinner. Don't worry, these are just a few lost emblems that need to be traced back."

"That's great. I will do my best to help you. Even if it's a broken branch of the royal family, I can dig it out for you as long as I have references."