Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 379 Side Story: Another Worldline [2]

Happy times are always fleeting.

When Jerome woke up from the afterglow of the dinner party, the morning sun was already making his cheeks hot. His last memory was of his neighbor handing him a third glass of juice beer and urging him that it was less likely to get him drunk.

But now, perhaps thanks to the waiter, he found himself in a spacious and bright room. The white glass windows blocked the cold mountain winds while allowing enough light to reach him, so that he could immediately see the two forms neatly arranged on the table beside him.

I hurriedly picked it up and glanced at it. It turned out to be the schedule for the next few days. The earliest event was scheduled to start in the afternoon to allow guests enough time to rest.

Unsurprisingly, most of them were medical-related conferences and academic exchange salons, held in the main hall and preaching room of the monastery's main building. The names, titles, affiliations, and content of the pre-booked speakers were thoughtfully listed.

Almost every medical school in North America that you could name was included, with titles starting at associate professor and going up to no higher. What was particularly striking was the inclusion of a little-known lecturer from a small college named Lucius, whose presentation was on the unheard-of topic of microscopic medicine, and was even placed last in the presentation schedule, making it hard not to suspect that he had some connection with the organizers.

Of course, the list also marked the tea break time, lounge, and meal arrangements, which Jerome silently noted down, as it was the only thing he could understand and use.

At the end of the form, a small note was added at the last minute indicating his whereabouts:

[For humanities and history students, please report to the second floor of the library.]

The handwriting is deeply embedded in the paper, giving it an excessive sense of force. Without the subtle differences between the letters, it might be difficult to tell whether it is a stamp or handwriting.

The lack of a specified time indicates that there are very few people, or perhaps he is the only one, so there is no need to make special arrangements.

Since things had come to this, he simply got up slowly, enjoyed his free lunch, and then randomly asked a monk for directions to find the library.

As soon as he entered the room, he knew that his guess was completely correct.

There wasn't a single receptionist in the huge library; only rows upon rows of books greeted visitors.

The bookshelf in the center displays classic medical works and guides updated annually, covering all subjects including internal medicine, surgery, pharmacy, and rare and special diseases. Half of the content is updated from the White Tower Monastery itself.

On one side, there were two columns of sacred texts, as well as introductory books and guides for church life, such as "Questions and Answers on Faith," "Introduction to Doctrine," "Soul Shepherd," and "Summa Theologica."

The spine is very new, with no visible bending or cracking, suggesting that it is probably borrowed less frequently than it is maintained.

Jerome wasn't particularly concerned about this; even if the Holy Scripture was used to prop up the corner of the table, it wasn't his place to interfere, especially since at least they were trying to make an appearance.

His attention was drawn to the large collection of local chronicles, which unexpectedly occupied a significant portion of the space, filling the best-lit area of ​​the bookshelves.

I casually flipped through a few books, and found labels indicating their provenance tucked inside the title pages. A few were donations, but most were acquired by caravans from various regions. There were even some precious documents from countries across the continent.

Driven by professional and personal interest, he instinctively browsed through some of the content. The novel and exotic history and customs were captivating, especially the sections describing local legends, many of which surprisingly shared similarities with the North American documents he had previously studied.

Some imaginings about supernatural forces surprisingly converge on inexplicable details.

After lingering for a while, Jerome remembered his original purpose, reluctantly noted down the location of the book, and went up to the second floor.

Unlike the lobby downstairs, this place is divided into many small rooms, more like a warehouse with different categories of items. Few people visit, and dusty locks seal off every door panel.

The only half-open door extended an invitation, and he had no choice but to approach, knock, and push it open. The harsh sound of the door hinges turning was particularly noticeable in the quiet environment, hitting the end of the corridor before turning back, as if another person had followed him into the overlapping space.

"Hello, may I ask where this is...?"

The questioning abruptly ended; the room was filled only with books that filled the table and spilled onto the floor. A brass key rested on the letter.

Jerome laughed awkwardly. Although he had expected to be somewhat neglected, he hadn't imagined it would be to this extent.

That's fine, though. He's very clear about his professional standing, and he's not the kind of person who likes to be in the spotlight. It's always easier for him to be with books than with people.

Picking up the letter, the handwriting looked somewhat familiar. Upon reflection, I realized it was from the same hand as the last line of small print on the schedule, the handwriting so strong that I could feel the distinct raised texture on the back.

The content is concise, only mentioning that these are family genealogy materials compiled by local nobles. Due to their age, some have been lost, so the monastery was commissioned to organize and sort them out to trace the origins of the family coats of arms.

The request is very common, and it's exactly the kind of work this major does most often—to find the glorious past of the ZTE family and to help the new elites establish a long-standing connection with them.

It takes patience and time to glue the scattered branches and leaves back onto the main trunk, which he happens to have both of.

Perhaps because he had rested well, Jerome felt he got into the zone faster than usual and began to categorize the materials provided by the monastery.

The sources of these materials are truly diverse, and the materials, fonts, and preservation conditions vary greatly. Some are newly copied parchment, while others look like they were just dug out of a grave and placed on a table without being cleaned or restored, requiring them to be unfolded on a book stand.

Although the inconsistent quality of the materials increased the difficulty, I seemed to be on a lucky streak today. I only glanced at them briefly during the sorting process and found several seemingly related emblems.

This is a good omen, meaning that we can start from a single point and follow the clues to find more information, eventually locking onto the main design and even reconstructing the original emblem.

However, he soon discovered that, as most of the time, good luck was just an illusion.

The fact is that, throughout the mountainous region covered by the entire parish, there is a wide degree of similarity in the heraldic designs, with a very high rate of reuse of gold and red color schemes, scale and claw patterns, and weapon elements.

This doesn't quite fit the previous impression of mountainous areas. Logically, regions fragmented by terrain should have weak connections with each other, and their heraldic styles should tend to be differentiated, presenting a decentralized and loose state in stark contrast to the orderly and systematic center of a kingdom.

Since it cannot be explained by coincidence, it means that this mountainous area was once in the hands of a powerful family, whose strength was at least comparable to that of Westminster today, which is why it occupied such a vast area.

"its not right."

Jerome scratched his head and muttered to himself, "The genealogies and historical records I've studied don't mention any prominent family that has ever lived and thrived here."

But if such a family truly exists, it would be the second-largest military heart after Westminster. Anyone who wants to march on Dunlin without any worries would first have to undergo the most severe test in the easily defensible and difficult-to-attack mountainous terrain.

Fortresses, inscriptions, legends, and bloodlines—it should leave something behind; it must leave something behind.

Jerome recoiled as if burned, as if he had touched the scales of some treacherous beast in the most familiar waters.

　I'm a bit... slow on the uptake, stuck on the story, so I'll just write a side story first...

　　()
　　(End of this chapter)