Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard - Chapter 99

TL/Editor: raei

Proofreader: Pickhead7

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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The monastery of the Empire adheres to the principles of poverty.

Monks are those who pray to God, having sworn to live their lives according to God’s will.

God has never decreed, “Engage in business and enjoy riches and glory.”

Monks do not obsess over making money. They lead lives dedicated to helping the weak, serving others, sharing, and giving generously.

 

Thus, in principle, it should be impossible for the monastery to accumulate wealth.

 

…But principles are meant to be broken.

Before serving God, monks are also people who live in the secular world.

If the secular world demands money, they can’t help but be influenced by it.

The monastery is like a club for followers of Heaven’s Faith.

It’s a gathering place for people who love Heaven’s Faith so much they pour their lives into it.

Since it’s a club, it operates on the membership fees of its members.

But who really cares about those tiny membership fees?

Even the little money they do have is spent lavishly on service.

In the countryside, it doesn’t matter. All you need to do is eat, crap, and pray.

But the closer you are to a city, and the more people you have to take care of, the more desperately the monastery needs money.

So, how does the monastery make money?

The best way is to secure generous donations from wealthy nobles.

Monks gently coax dying nobles to make donations.

“Hey~ You look like you won’t live much longer. Why not donate to the monastery and secure your place in heaven?”

“Deal.”

But what if the local lord is hale and hearty?

Or if he’s already donating to a temple instead of the monastery?

Then, Plan B is initiated.

They start a business!

The easiest business for monks to enter is brewing.

Excessive drinking is a sin, but the monastery can mitigate this sin.

Since they don’t own farmland, they use their surplus labor to produce secondary products instead of farming.

“Haah. Let’s have a drink.”

Renis, the abbot of the Blue Key Monastery, served beer and sausage.

Both were products easily made from the surplus labor in the monastery.

They prayed at dawn and ran a medieval factory by noon.

Ian looked at the neatly prepared drinks table and licked his lips.

Damn, this is small beer.

“Shall we toast?”

“Toast?”

Ian led the toast.

“God’s blessing!”

“God’s blessing.”

Ian savored his beer in one go and tore into the sausage with his bare hands.

Mmm. Damn good.

The beer was excellent, but the sausage was mediocre due to the poor quality of spices.

Ah. When will I escape this damned super-salt food?

The monastery abbot also downed his beer in one go and grumbled angrily.

“Count Lumin! I knew that petty man would cause trouble! How dare he lay a hand on our monk?!”

He first thanked Mionia.

“That was a brave act, Sister Mionia. Without you, other monks might have been in danger.”

“I merely did what a servant of God should do.”

Currently, Sister Mionia’s situation was uncertain.

She has betrayed everyone from the abbot to Count Lumin.

Having become unpopular with the powers that be, she can’t return home now.

It was also awkward to enter a nearby convent.

At least she had to flee to a place beyond the reach of the convent abbot’s influence.

Secularize as she wanted?

Imagine a young, unmarried woman roaming alone in a post-apocalyptic medieval world.

She wouldn’t end up in a good situation.

The best for Mionia would be to find a kind-hearted convent or to meet a kind-hearted man and marry him.

Both were difficult, but still.

At that moment, a sly-looking priest muttered.

“Tsk. The purpose was righteous, but the means were a mess. Daring to betray your superiors and act independently. If she had worked under me, I would have beheaded her.”

“…”

Mionia could make no reply. Because he was right.

Heaven’s Faith’s doctrine emphasizes strict obedience: subordinates must execute commands from superiors without question.

This is because the highest authority in Heaven’s Faith is God.

Imagine the absurdity if subordinates refused to follow God’s simple command of “Do this~”.

… However, that priest was mistaken.

The type of obedience expected in Heaven’s Faith differs from the military’s rigid hierarchy.

Ian was vaguely aware of this distinction because Dehitri of the Santiago Knights, the madman with clear eyes, had explained it.

“A clergy’s obedience should always be directed towards God, not human authority!”

“…? Why are you telling me this?”

At that moment, Ian thought he was just being talkative.

But traveling through a medieval fantasy era, he realized that religious knowledge could actually be quite useful.

After all, religion and the Middle Ages are inseparably linked.

“Don’t you know?”

Ian couldn’t grasp why a clergyman would demand such militaristic obedience.

It seemed odd, but since the other monks remained silent, Ian held his peace.

Yet, the priest’s offensive speech didn’t stop there.

“To behead? What a radical priest,” Belenka sneered.

She implied it was inappropriate for someone serving God to speak so casually about executing someone.

The priest didn’t even blink.

“That’s no comment for a lazy knight to make.”

“…”

“Didn’t you just dawdle like a slug when Takarion was captured by heretics? There’s no laziness worse than that. You’d have no right to complain even if you burned in hell.”

Did I mishear that?

Ian was so shocked that he stared at the priest.

But he hadn’t misheard or misunderstood.

Kira, sitting beside him, exclaimed, “What did you just say? How can you talk like that!”

“Shut up, woman.”

Kira’s face turned pale.

She was a wizard, respected by all as a miracle worker, whether her magic was real or fake.

And yet, someone dared to openly provoke her!

“You just called me a woman like that…”

“Must your ears be blocked? Didn’t my words sound clear to you? Or have you only ever encountered fools trembling at your trivial magic?”

The priest spoke with venomous cruelty.

“Make no mistake, wizard. This isn’t a place lenient enough for your illusions to work.”

“…”

Ian flinched.

Could this bastard be a wizard himself? Was that why he was choosing such harsh words?

If this guy was a cleric of the church, he was experiencing a taste of his own medicine.

It was amusing when he was the one dishing it out, but encountering someone who could give it back was incredibly frustrating!

Belenka quietly sipped her drink, and Kira sadly bowed her head.

Seeing his companions, a surge of heat rose within Ian.

Whether the opponent was a cleric or some high-ranking official of the church.

‘…Who cares!’

Ian immediately sprang into action as a wizard.

“Excuse me. Who are you?”

“You?”

The priest looked at Ian as if he were absurd.

“Did you just address a direct disciple of Saint Marcus as ‘you’?”

“A direct disciple of Marcus?”

“Yes. I am Zoltin, a disciple of Lord Teranos and a direct disciple of Saint Marcus,” the priest, Zoltin, proclaimed boastfully.

There! How about that, you insignificant wizard!

The person you’ve been insulting is someone of this stature!

But unlike the puffed-up Zoltin…

Ian was unimpressed.

A direct disciple of Saint Marcus? Wow, impressive. But what of it?

Am I a clergyman?

I’m a wizard!

Had he introduced himself as a disciple of Eredith, he would have immediately bowed.

In martial arts terms, that would be like meeting a senior.

But it was different with clergymen.

Originally, wizards and clergy often antagonize each other.

“So what?” Ian asked.

“What do you mean?” responded Zoltin.

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at. Just because you’re a direct disciple of Saint Marcus, you think it’s okay to speak so rudely? Do we look like we have no ears or brains? Aren’t the people you insulted all followers of Heaven’s Faith and children of God?”

Ian blatantly blurted it out.

It was a very wizard-like thing to do.

Belenka, who knew Ian well, smiled contently, thinking, ‘That’s so Ian!’

She viewed Ian as a quirky wizard.

Although his eccentricity was sometimes hard to deal with, at that moment, she found it incredibly reassuring.

Look at him! That crazy bastard is our crazy bastard!

Zoltin’s face turned beet red at Ian’s relentless wizard behavior.

He was undoubtedly a high-status priest, a direct disciple in the line of Saint Marcus and a highly respected priest serving alongside Teranos!

“This… This…”

Zoltin stuttered, already halfway to a breakdown.

It was clear from his inability to speak.

The most surprised by Ian’s odd behavior was none other than the monastery abbot, Renis.

“Watch your words!” he admonished Ian, shocked.

And understandably so, as Zoltin held a status like a prince in this land among the nobility.

“Do you even understand what it means to be a direct disciple of Saint Marcus?” Renis questioned.

“I don’t know,” Ian replied nonchalantly.

“That man is going to be the next cardinal!”

Ah, a cardinal.

Ian had heard of such a title in fantasy novels—a high religious official.

Ian wasn’t a priest, so he wasn’t an expert on religious matters.

However, he had studied the scriptures thoroughly during his time with the Santiago Knights, especially under the fervent instruction of Brother Dehitri, the madman with clear eyes.

This gave him knowledge comparable to a seasoned monk, enough to engage in proper debate.

“Everyone is equal under heaven. Why should I bow down just because someone is a disciple of Saint Marcus?”

Ian challenged.

“No matter what…”

Renis started to protest.

“What are you going to do if I don’t bow?”

Ian interrupted.

Renis was astounded by Ian’s unorthodox logic.

Is this guy totally insane?!

The person he’s challenging is a future cardinal, someone who will become the highest religious authority in this area.

Naturally, offending him could make for a difficult future!

Common sense would suggest bowing down.

But at the same time, Renis felt a shiver run through his body because Ian’s logic was flawless.

“Uh… uh…”

Renis stammered, his mind going blank.

In Heaven’s Faith, a ‘cardinal’ refers to a direct disciple of one of the 13 saints, who obviously deserved respect and reverence.

However, according to Ian’s reasoning, even a cardinal, under the sacred heavens, is just another human being.

Emperors, kings, nobles.

Popes, cardinals, priests.

Knights, farmers, slaves.

All are equal.

It’s utterly foolish to differentiate among humans when the supreme ruler of heaven is watching!

“What, are you going to bring an army? Call some knights?”

Ian asked sarcastically.

“Then what makes a cardinal different from a lord? You’re not making people kneel before God, but before a sword,”

Ian argued.

“Shut up!”

Zoltin cried out pitifully.

As a religious man, he vaguely understood that Ian was right.

A high-ranking clergyman is meant to be respected, not to wield worldly power.

Therefore, Zoltin should have been persuading Ian, not trying to suppress him with force.

While logically this may be true, in reality, Zoltin was a person of power.

With just a will to act, he could easily crush a presumptuous wizard by force.

As the next cardinal, he wielded the church’s power.

“How dare you babble in front of a disciple of Saint Marcus! I will open a religious trial to judge your sins myself!”

Zoltin shouted at Renis.

“Abbot! Bind this sinner immediately!”

“No, no… this person brought relics to the monastery, a benefactor…”

“Do you not hear me! Am I not commanding you!!!”

Helplessly, the monks began to gather cautiously around, watching Zoltin’s cues.

At that moment, Belenka kicked the table and drew her sword!

“Whoops!”

Beer and sausages soared through the air.

The monks panicked and retreated.

She looked at Zoltin calmly, but her cold gaze burned with violence and rage like flames.

A chilling murderous intent emanated from her.

Zoltin involuntarily swallowed dryly.

“If you touch Ian, I’ll cut down even a clergyman.”

“How dare…! Are you threatening a servant of God with a sword!”

“Which servant of God oppresses believers for their own authority? If there is such a servant of God, I will personally punish them.”

Belenka was known for her physical straightforwardness.

“Anyone who truly believes Ian is guilty, step forward! Overcome me and prove that guilt!”

As Belenka drew her sword, the abbot Renis felt darkness descend before his eyes.

Ah! Now it truly is the end—

“It’s so noisy I can’t sleep! You lot!”

Just then, an old man pushed through the monks.

The monks quickly bowed their heads.

“Isilla has arrived!”

“Yes, indeed.”

The old man laughed upon seeing the chaotic dining hall.

“These guests are as lively as rascals!”

Ian flinched when he saw the old man’s eyes.

A gaze filled with either vitality or madness.

A mysterious aura was present.

What’s this? Is he a wizard?

“Who will explain this ruckus to me?”

“I will,” Zoltin quickly said.

Of course, he described the situation to his advantage.

Ian is a bastard and a bad guy, and I’m the good and innocent victim—essentially that was the gist.

Ian was stunned but waited silently for his turn to speak.

After listening to Zoltin’s explanation, the old man:

“Hmm.”

Nodded his head then:

“You incredibly stupid fool!!!”

He smacked Zoltin’s head with the back of his hand!

Ian quietly admired this.

He thought the old man was no ordinary elder. Some sort of Shaolin monk?

Maybe he’s not a wizard but a martial artist.

Hmm. That makes sense.

Monks being martial artists was a fact proven by countless games.

“Aaagh!”

Zoltin collapsed after the old man’s physical reprimand.

He looked up at the old man with a bewildered expression.

“Why me?!”

“Because you crossed the line! Is that how Teranos taught you? I’ll go find that bastard right away—”

“Calm down, elder!”

The old man, boiling with anger, started beating Zoltin again.

After energetically thrashing Zoltin, he sighed deeply and bowed to Ian.

“Sorry about that. A friend’s disciple has done something foolish.”

“Um, who are you…?”

“My name is Isilla. I am a humble servant of the heavens.”

Ian awkwardly extended his hand.

Coming from a Confucian culture, Ian was not used to an elder bowing to him.

“Hmm. Hmm. You came to return a relic? And Takarion was kidnapped by barbarians in the process?”

“Yes, elder.”

Monk Isilla sighed deeply.

“Could you come to my room for a moment to talk?”