55. Your Name
From Noble mtl dot com
From February 4th when the interview ended to February 17th when the procession set off.
I spent the two-week gap looking for something to do. I had more or less figured out how to run the processing. All that was left was to wait, but I didn’t want to waste precious time.
So I pondered ‘how can I tame the monasteries properly?’
After much deliberation, I was inspired by the classic RPGs where you form a party to defeat the bad guys and save the world. Why do such great heroes or main characters gather companions?
At first, they need companions because they’re weak, but as they grow, power inflation occurs in battle and most of them don’t even participate in battle. In the end, they usually end up as cheerleaders standing next to the main character like a screen.
I thought that if I brought companions with me, they would just end up as cheerleaders and the main character would eat everything up and monopolize everything. That way, I wouldn’t have to give my pitiful companions an inferiority complex.
If I hadn’t played [Fantasy Monarch], I would have thought that way the whole time.
The experience I gained through [Fantasy Monarch] changed my mind. The heroes and various main characters that commonly appear in RPGs have excellent political sense.
In my opinion, the reason hero parties are formed even though the hero is a one-man army is because the hero wants to divide the attention of the people. Distributing precious honor and spoils of war was a kind of risk hedge to disperse the negative attention of the people.
If you refuse to give to others and monopolize everything, you might end up monopolizing everything in the afterlife. It’s a natural truth, since there are negative aspects to human attention, such as jealousy, hatred, or greed.
I couldn’t stop people who were blinded by jealousy and greed and were trying to cut my stomach open, no matter how kind and honorable I lived. Whether they were adults or heroes, the nature of evil people was to stab you if they didn’t ‘t like you right away.
Even if I could crush them, flies would gather, and if I wasn’t overwhelmingly strong, my life would be in danger. To prevent this, I needed comrades to share the profits with.
That way, the weaklings who were weaker than the hero would attack, coveting their wealth.
It was a similar mentality to the mafias or gangsters that appear in noir films. When they talk about loyalty and sharing the profits of crime, they’re not sharing the bloody money, but rather passing on the karma they have to bear.
There’s a use for trash, too. Inspired by the shallow loyalty of the heroes in RPGs and criminal organizations, I immediately took action.
[To the faithful servants of Lux Stella. I, Bishop Candidate Narva, the faithful right hand of Lux Stella, ask about your hardships in case you have any…]
I wrote on the paper with a quill, paying attention to each word.
[I once experienced an unpleasant incident at a monastery. Not all of them are like that, but it’s too dangerous to be optimistic that there aren’t similar incidents happening to you, who protect the people and preserve the faith against the repeated attempts of pagan raiders.]
I had already decided who to send the letters to.
My targets were the minor lords and knights who had donated land or acted as guardians to the monastery in order to secure their succession. The reason I targeted them was because they were easy to persuade.
Why did they collude with the monastery? Because they were stingy with money. Because they were tired of watching their lord’s shame to have their inheritance recognized.
However, human nature is such that they can’t help but feel sorry for the money that leaves their pocket right now. The grass is always greener on the other side. It had been about 20 years since Barnard, who had greatly contributed to the proliferation of monasteries, had been in office.
And 20 years was enough time for the monasteries, who had been diligently emptying their pockets, to become more hateful than the lords who were watching to see if they would recognize their inheritance.
Of course, I couldn’t just end it by simply inciting anger and hatred. In order to draw out the enthusiasm of the knights and minor lords, I also offered several carrots to make them eat well and cut open the monastery’s stomach.
[Not only that, but recently I have heard rumors that some people are claiming to be monks in order to avoid taxes or simply because they are tired of their current profession, which is tarnishing the purity of the monastery. This not only reduces the number of farmers who are willing to go out to the fields, but also reduces the number of soldiers who are willing to fight, thereby endangering the foundation and faith of the country.]
Humanism is always right.
Even if this world is barbaric and uncivilized in the Middle Ages, we must still work hard to restore discipline and order. How can people take other people’s lives so easily?
As an abolitionist of capital punishment, I could not agree with the barbaric judicial and capital punishment systems of the Middle Ages.
[I would like to return all those who have falsely claimed to be monks to their rightful place. Please help me as much as possible, even for the prodigal sons who end their wandering and return to your side…]
Justice is ultimately the law for the people. I am determined to realize justice for the people.
This is why I am sending this letter. In order for the prospective secularists to adapt safely after leaving the quiet and dreary monastery and starting a pastoral and romantic rural life under the bright sun, the close cooperation of the local lords is needed.
I consider this to be a huge and comprehensive welfare policy.
The prospective secularists will surely be grateful. Isn’t it better to be a serf who can easily do the work of one person by plowing the fields with a plow than to be a half-baked believer who lives in a monastery without leaving a single trace?
Fortunately, my idea has received the support of many people.
Most of them were knights and lords who would accept prospective secularists (serf camps).
***
The first place Bishop Hou Narba set foot was not a monastery.
As Narba took the left fork in the road, what he saw was a plain of wheat fields swaying in the face of clean water and a clear sky. A cow that was chewing its cud looked at the wanderer with curious eyes.
It was the manor of Lord Germain, with a population of 381.
And Lord Germain had been preparing a lot since the day he received Narba’s letter. Lord Germain led the manor on foot and told him about the irregularities he had identified.
“Last year, the harvest was good. So I thought I would be able to earn enough income… The monastery arbitrarily collected taxes from the serfs, claiming that it was the result of their own farming methods and research.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I just collected a little less than I was going to collect.”
“That’s a big deal. So how much was the damage…”
“I originally thought the tax rate would be 70%, and I thought I would raise the mill fee from 8 to 1 silver coin. But because the monastery collected it first, it was only 69.5%, and I couldn’t even raise the mill fee!”
“…”
Knights spend as much money as they earn. Sometimes they spend a lot even when they earn less. The cost of taking care of armor and war horses, as well as providing seeds, could only lead to a steady loss of money.
As time passed, the high tax rate, which had been rationalized with its own basis, soon became a matter of course.
That’s why serfs everywhere face harsh tax rates.
Lord Germain was a knight in the top 30% of the Middle Ages because he had reduced taxes a little. Since he didn’t make a huge profit from the mill fee, he was a conscientious knight.
Lord Germain, an honorable knight with a petty conscience but not a villain, appealed to Narba with his emotions.
“This is the situation, Your Excellency. Please understand my grievance!”
“Hmm.”
Narba listened to Lord Germain’s sincere appeal and fell into deep thought. Even if the monastery is destroyed, the serfs will live by offering 70% of their produce, but they will be able to avoid double taxation.
Still, he opened his mouth with a glimmer of hope and put a constraint on it.
“Collect only 70%.”
“….70%?”
“The monastery has been abolished, so the amount that should have been paid to the monastery has been reduced, so don’t ask for more.”
“….”
A painful expression crossed Lord Germain’s face. It was a fleeting moment, but Narba noticed it right away. He just didn’t scold or point it out.
In the end, Lord Germain groaned and barely answered.
“…I understand. I will live as Your Excellency wishes.”
“Good. Then bring me the serfs.”
Narba rubbed his hands together and smiled as he listened to Lord Germain’s answer.
“Because the slaughter of swine should be done with haste.”
***
What followed was nothing short of a tempest.
Narva, flanked by Lord Germain and his men-at-arms as well as his retinue, advanced upon the bolted gates of the monastery, issuing a dire warning.
“Open these doors. Or I shall denounce you all as heretics to His Holiness and demand your excommunication!”
For Narva, a Stigmata, and one who bore the black-trimmed golden pallium of the papal court, to speak of excommunication was a shock of a different kind. The feeble bluster of the monastery crumbled in an instant.
“W-wait, good sir!”
“What are you waiting for! Open the gates at once!”
Terrified by the threat of excommunication, several of the monks rushed forward to unbar the gates. Now, there was nothing to impede Narva’s progress.
In no time, Narva and his retinue began to ransack the monastery.
“My brothers, find their ledgers first!”
“Turn over every chest. We must find their wealth!”
It was only after the place had been turned upside down that the abbot made an appearance. Drenched in sweat and with unkempt hair, the abbot approached Narva, stammering.
“Y-yes, your grace. I apologize for the delay. Here, these are the various ledgers our monastery has kept diligently.”
Narva accepted the proffered ledgers with an impassive expression. Then, as if he had no need to read them, he began flipping through the pages haphazardly.
Riiip.
The ominous sound stopped at the section dedicated to expenses.
“Alms for the poor.”
“Yes?”
“An item that can be inflated far more easily and conveniently than physical goods or transactions that somehow leave a trail back to visited the establishment or regular trade.”
Thud.
Narva slammed the ledger shut and cast it to the ground. Not content with that, he proceeded to stomp on it with his right foot.
“Since 1202, the climate and harvests have been favorable, resulting in negligible requests for alms from the local parishes. This is not a coastal area plagued by raiders, but a safe haven deep within the hinterlands. You have not taken in any refugees, nor has there been any notable calamity. Yet, you have spent over 30 gold marks on alms for the poor…”
His gaze held a chilling frost.
“Furthermore, it seems you have no Stigmata among you. You must be aware of what constitutes an inquisition, yet you do not one. That speaks volumes about your caliber. You demonstrate neither true poverty nor piety.”
“Y-yes, your grace! I have something to show you!”
“How fortunate. I, too, have a new life prepared for you.”
The jig was up, and up good.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, the abbot, tears streaming down his face, attempted to offer up all his hidden wealth.
“Oh dear. How dare a mere serf speak to his grace without permission!”
Lord Germain, who had been bidding his time, grabbed the abbot by the shoulders and unceremoniously dragged him away.
“S-serf?! Lord Germain, have you lost your mind? I am Veritaos…”
“You still haven’t come to your senses. From this day forth, your name is Hans. Hans!”
“eeek! Let go, let go! How dare an unskilled swordsman lay hands on a man of the cloth…!”
At that moment, Narva spoke, cutting off the abbot’s desperate cries in an instant.
“Eighty-nine members of the Order of Saint Margaret. No Stigmata, failing to meet the criteria for inquisition, yet posing as monks, stealing the authority of the Church, reaping ill-gotten gains, and rejecting the life you were meant to live . Guilty.”
“Y-yes, your grace!!!!”
“Death would be a fitting punishment.”
Narva looked at the wailing abbot with a satisfied smile. Only then did he remove his glove, revealing the bright blue Stigmata etched on the back of his hand.
“However, as an act of great mercy, you shall be allowed to return to the secular world as penance. For there is one who has generously offered to sponsor and vouch for your new lives.”
And just before the abbot retorted.
“Nice to see you, Hans. Luckily, there’s plenty of wasteland for you.”
Germain’s strong hand wrapped around him.