The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 52

52. The World of a Madman

At dawn, just as the sunlight was about to creep over the windowsill.

When even the bell-ringer, who should have been the first to wake up to ring the bell, was still lying in bed, there was one person who was moving around busily even though it was still dark enough to rely on candles.

“I should probably go soon.”

Bishop Ganista was already awake, had made his bed, and was calmly getting dressed. Normally, he would have slept for a while longer, but the bishop was driven by a desperate desire not to miss the precious spectacle.

After finishing his morning prayers, Ganista drew the sign of the cross and chuckled.

“hehehehe. There’s nothing as entertaining as watching a newly appointed bishop struggle. It’s worth being here as a guest. It’s not a fight or a fire, so what a noble and dignified entertainment this is. Oh, radiant star of humanity, please forgive this old man’s pastime.”

This eccentric nature had been foreseen from the beginning.

A medieval person who didn’t enjoy drinking, gambling, or women was bound to have some kind of sinister distortion in their nature. Bishop Ganista hummed a tune as he headed towards the library of the episcopal see of the Diocese of Powys, and the innermost part of it.

‘Still, I should help him. I, as his superior, should prepare things for this old man.’

There were such cases sometimes. A newly awakened Stigmata Bearer who applied for the position of bishop out of a sense of duty but ended up fleeing due to the murderous workload.

In order to prevent such an unfortunate incident, one had to take action in advance. Moreover, Bishop Narva of Powys was a key figure who would later rule the Diocese of Illenfoot and his own successor.

Ganista planned to let Narva run away right away and then gradually increase the workload, like rain wetting the hem of his clothes. How long would Narva be able to endure? How much should he adjust the load so that he wouldn’t give up but would burn with a desire to challenge himself?

Ganista was pondering over the delicate criteria when he suddenly noticed something as he walked. As he walked through the silent and shadowy corridor, something caught his eye.

“Hmm?”

A faint light was leaking out of a cool gap in the library.

Ganista frowned at the sight of the light, which was unusual for dawn. Candles were more expensive than people thought. Even in the church, it was repeatedly emphasized that candles should always be extinguished when there was no special ceremony.

And yet, there was a candle lit.

‘I don’t know if it’s a deacon or someone else, but they’re wasting precious candles like this. Has everyone become so lax because of the previous bishop?’

He knew that the previous bishop of the Diocese of Powys, Barnardo, had committed various acts of tyranny.

It was only natural that those who had worked under such a Barnardo would have a loose sense of money. They must have spent all the money that was supposed to be used for a specific purpose on entertainment or wasted it for convenience.

Ganista twitched his eyebrows and quickened his pace. He had to stop the precious church funds from melting away in real time. If he hadn’t been paying full attention, he would have continued to think that way.

-Squeak, squeak.

“Whew.”

Ganista’s body stopped on its own. The melody of the paper that he had spent his whole life creating with his fingertips was reaching his eardrums. It was a time when it should never have been heard.

If he were a naive new bishop, he might have been satisfied, thinking that a diligent monk or scribe was working hard.

However, Ganista, a bishop who had been studying scriptures for decades, could say for sure. No matter how diligent they were, they were not precious enough to replace the melting wax of the candle.

‘I guess I’ll have to correct his bad habits in advance.’

Still, it wasn’t a mistake, so he would just have to reprimand him gently. Ganista opened the door of the library with a much more lenient heart. He thought that there would be no problem as long as he had a good attitude.

However, Ganista froze as soon as he opened the door.

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No, he was overwhelmed.

The sound of a quill scratching paper echoed through the air, and the shadows swayed with every flicker of the candle. The sight that was revealed when the shadows, which had covered the entire wall, faded, completely overwhelmed him.

“….”

What Ganista saw was paper.

They weren’t ordinary white papers, but sheets teeming with geometric figures and densely written annotations.

One entire wall of the library was covered with these papers. They were affixed to the wall with candle wax instead of pins, swaying like fish scales floundering in the wake of a wave.

And then, the moment Ganista was overwhelmed by the sight, the scratching sound of a quill pen abruptly stopped. A sudden silence. Ganista instinctively grasped his pectoral cross and recited a prayer in his mind.

‘Bringer of the dawn of mankind. I humbly ask you to drive them into the twilight with your starlight.’

It was a sight that would be considered a trace of heresy from any angle. Ganista intended to dispel the influence of heresy without hesitation, but he couldn’t help but be disconcerted.

The pectoral cross was not reacting.

Ganista looked alternately at the papers plastered on the wall and the pectoral cross and was astounded.

‘The influence of heresy… No way? There?’

That was when he heard a familiar voice.

The sound of a chair being dragged and a shadow illuminated by candlelight rose.

“Who is it? It’s too early.”

“Your Grace? Is it you?”

“My Lord Bishop?”

The owner of the voice was Narva. Ganista’s agitation subsided only then. Although Narva was notorious for his eccentric personality, he wasn’t the kind of person who would join hands with heresy.

Ganista gasped in relief and stepped inside without hesitation.

“Oh my. You surprised me. What in the world are you doing at this hour? What are these… strange drawings?”

His judgment was premature. As Ganista asked his question out of curiosity, Narva revealed himself from within the library.

With a slight face flushed with an odd exhilaration, with eyes lost in ecstasy, he pointed at the papers like Pygmalion who had fallen in love with the statue he had carved.

“What do you think? Don’t you find them beautiful, Your Grace?”

“Yes? Your Grace, all of a sudden, what…”

“Do you see over there? I’ve organized the 34 parishes within the diocese, considering their geographically and customary roles, into groups of six or seven and summarized them. From that far end to the window frame. The drawings on the upper part of the window show the records from the 1190s, before the inauguration of the former Lord Bishop Barnard, and the most recent records, and the gap between them.”

The words poured out like a waterfall.

“It seems that this kind of attempt is the first among the former Lord Bishops, so there’s no proper precedent. So I’ve categorized them by assigning numbers towards the rising sun, with the bishop’s see as the axis. I haven’t finished organizing them all yet, and I’ve only organized the immediate fiefdoms, centering around the bishop’s see and the nature of the reigning king.”

To Ganista, those words felt like a dialect spoken by those immersed in religious ecstasy.

“I feel the need to refine the division that I’ve made arbitrarily for convenience, but I was going to ask Your Grace for advice on this.”

“…”

“There’s also a lot I’d like to ask for advice on. Especially since the number of names registered in the church records has increased significantly since Bishop Barnard’s inauguration, but the church funds themselves haven’t changed noticeably. There are too many possible cases, and since the organized area is limited, it seems too early to draw any conclusions.”

“….”

“Ah, to understand this trend, you’ll see the third window from the left. If you look at the paper attached below the window frame, you’ll see a drawing that numerically represents the names written in the church records. I’ ve organized it so that you can see it all at a glance, by parish and by the year it was counted… Before that, I should find the records regarding the relief request sent by the local priest. Do you know where they are , by any chance?”

Bishop Ganista looked around with his mouth agape and turned his gaze to Narva.

It didn’t matter how much work had been done. It didn’t matter whether the words Narva uttered were true or not, useful or not. What astounded Ganista was the expression on Narva’s face as he poured out all those words.

“Th… Your Grace. Why are you smiling?”

“?”

All priests have something in common. They all handle their administrative duties with a sense of mission. From parish priests to cardinals, it was the reason they breathed deeply every single day.

Among them, some deviants often embezzled the precious church funds, saying it was the reward for their suffering.

Of course, it would vary from person to person, but at least Ganista had never seen anyone who approached administrative duties with a smiling face. Except for the Narva he had encountered today.

Countless speculations ran through Ganista’s mind.

Why on earth are you smiling? Is there something you’ve figured out, and are you planning to torment someone with this as an excuse? Or have you discovered another corruption within the church and are you smiling wryly?

How could the Lord Bishop speak such words with such an ecstatic face, filled with joy?

The answer that came to the countless overlapping questions was truly simple and clear.

“What… Don’t you find it interesting?”

“Interesting?”

“Oh, come on, Bishop. Why are you so surprised? Isn’t it fun just to think about whether the information contained in those digital graphs is real, and if so, what measures we can take to develop it in the future? “

“Heh. Heh. Heh.”

Having heard the answer, Ganista turned his back without the slightest hesitation.

“Your Grace’s enthusiasm has relieved my worries. Heh heh, this old man can return to his duties without any problems.”

“Bishop.”

Then, Narva’s voice, cold as a blade, grazed the back of Ganista’s neck.

“Before you retire, Bishop, I’ve already spoken to the stableman. You won’t be going out for a while, so have the horses unsaddled and the carriage serviced for the time being.”

“…”

“You must be very bored to be up so early.”

Ganista, to the voice slowly approaching.

“Fortunately, I have prepared an amazing entertainment for us to together.”

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

***

Episcopal See of Powys Diocese.

In this place that had been extravagantly managed since long ago, several monks and priests were making a bet.

“I wonder how long the new bishop will last.”

“Chuckle… Not a bishop, but a bishop-killer.”

“Whatever.”

“Hmm. Well, nothing is more annoying and terrible than a staring contest with the clergy. He probably won’t last long and will tell us to do as we please.”

“hehehehe. Let’s keep an eye on him this time.”

No matter how hard-working or dedicated a person is, they can get tired. That was the murderous amount of administrative work that the Church had to do. The workload was also one of the reasons why the previous bishop, Barnardo, had collapsed in an instant.

If the lower ranks repeatedly neglected their duties and passed them on to their superiors, they would be overwhelmed with work and lose control. Overcoming this required tremendous effort, and there was no bishop in the provinces who was patient enough to tolerate it.

Most of the bishops, who were appointed simply because they were on good terms with the secular lords, often had problems with their temperament.

This time would be no different.

The lazy monks and priests smiled with satisfaction at the thought of eating and working moderately.

-Until a month had passed.

“Bring me the records of relief requests from each local parish during the famine of 1202. Also, the current location and personal information of the priests in charge of the parish at that time.”

“There seems to be a concern about the forgery of the parish records in Namchester. The number of confirmed residents in the 1190s was about 1,800, but it increased to 2,300 as soon as the 1200s began. If there had been a sudden influx of refugees or immigrants, a report should have been submitted, but this part is also blank. Summon the scribe who transcribed the parish records at that time.”

“The parish records of Kenneth is 800? According to my calculations, it should be up to 945. I’ll review it, so bring me all the records you referred to. Let’s check them together.”

“How much is the rate of church tax payment in Barasta? Is it only this much? Are there only beggars in a place where 3,000 people live? Fraud is suspected. Summon all those involved. I will wait here until I hear the details. “

Narva’s eyes were the only ones that sparkled among the faces that were dying with each passing moment.

In the end, one courageous monk, unable to bear it any longer, boldly suggested.

“Your Grace, it’s good to be dedicated to your work, but we are terribly thirsty. Wouldn’t you like to have a drink? We should relax sometimes.”

“Oh, grape wine. Good.”

The beginning of corruption starts from the smallest things. The monks and priests looked at each other and secretly clenched their fists. They celebrated their success.

“But you’re going to drink while you’re still messing around?”

“…”

That is, until the next words came out.

“Sit on your butt and watch. Soon you’ll learn the pleasure of seeing the numbers on this graph change positively. When that happens, I’ll allow you to drink alcohol.”

At that moment, the priests and monks recalled a certain rumor.

A rumor that Narva, the third son of Powys, was crazy. A rumor that had solid evidence to support it, that he had gone mad because of the marriage that Yubas had forced upon him.

But even if Narva had been crazy before the marriage proposal, there was a clear target for their resentment. The monks and priests avoided Narva’s gaze and gritted their teeth, glaring at him.

‘Yubas…!’

‘How dare he make such a man a bishop!!!’

But even that was just a drop in the bucket. Narva, who had been explaining the visual pleasures of the graph to a monk who had recklessly challenged him, suddenly showed interest in something else.

“Now that I think about it, what order do you belong to?”

“Yes, yes. Why do you ask all of a sudden…?”

“Oh, don’t be so surprised. It’s nothing.”

“Is that so?”

The monk, who had been sweating profusely, was cautiously relieved for a moment.

“I was just wondering if the previous bishop had properly examined the order. If I want to confirm that, I’ll have to visit you at some point.”

Narva’s eyes sparkled like a predator that had found its prey.

“I’ll visit your order first.”