Saint's Prison - Chapter 3

An Absolution for Whom?

“Kuro…Kuro-dono, are you listening?”

“Ah, my apologies. I was zoning out a bit.”

“You can’t afford to be inattentive. Are you alright?”

“I am fine. Sorry for interrupting the conversation.”

In the lounge, I was talking with a certain man.

His name was Francesco Poitiers.

He was one of the Priests in Stonehurst.

A stout man with a height of around 160 cm. He has a friendly face and is very hospitable. Even to a foreigner like me, he casually strikes up a conversation.

Originally, Francesco was apparently the second son of a renowned merchant family. He could not inherit the household, and was detested by his elder brother, who was the heir. It was almost as if he had run away to become a Priest in Stonehurst, a story he previously told me with a laugh.

The ability to fearlessly interact with people was probably a survival skill that he had cultivated in his family’s business.

Even among the Priests, who were clearly put off by me, a foreigner, at first, the number of those who became friendly and started conversations, like Francesco did, seemed to be increasing.

However, regardless of how friendly we become, for some reason, many Priests do not call me by the name Andrew. Instead, because I have black hair which is uncommon here, they refer to me as ‘Kuro-san’ or ‘Kuro-dono’.

My Asian features, less pronounced compared to the Slavic and Germanic faces around me, certainly make me stand out here. To them, I am unmistakably a foreigner. Perhaps this cannot be helped.

But there’s no need for despair.

Fortunately for me, there’s Amal. She sees me without any prejudice and holds me in dear regard. The extent to which she is my salvation cannot be overstated. My gratitude towards Amal is endless.

“Shall we continue our discussion?”

“Please, go ahead.”

I nod, listening attentively.

Although I’m currently allowed to stay in the monastery, there may come a time when I have to leave. For that reason, I am learning about this era from others.

While I may not be prepared to live in this land indefinitely, I cannot expect the environment to wait for me. Therefore, it is wise to increase my knowledge and skills as much as possible. Fortunately, there are teachers here who are more than willing to help.

The Priests, including Francesco who preaches to people, are remarkably adept at conveying and teaching things. Their gestures, tone of voice, and modulation are thoughtfully crafted to help the majority, who cannot read, understand the doctrines.

“Let’s see, where were we in our discussion?… Ah yes, we were talking about the peddlers. Peddlers, you see, are those who travel from town to town selling their goods. However, when buying from them, you must be very careful. That is because many of them conduct illegal business practices. For example, some would mix in lime with the wheat flour to increase the volume and sell it with a straight face. Such tricks are a common occurrence.”

I perk up, raising my hand to ask a question. Francesco encourages me to ask anything with a proud expression.

“But, Francesco, wouldn’t they lose their credibility and thereby ruin their business by doing such things?”

“That… unfortunately, is not the case. While the educated might be aware of their deceit, commoners are often oblivious. Moreover, in rural areas away from the city, peddlers are greatly valued, circumstances often force them to turn a blind eye to some malpractices. Of course, not all peddlers act in such a way, but it’s not safe to generalize.”

“I see, that’s how it is.”

“Indeed, they travel through various places, carrying a myriad of information. Interactions with them should be handled with care and effectiveness. Getting too involved could result in hardships, hence maintaining a reasonable distance is advisable.”

Francesco finished speaking and looked towards the entrance of the lounge. I was so engrossed in the conversation that I didn’t notice a Priest, glaring sharply at us, standing there.

“Francesco, are you talking with that man again?”

“Oh, Brother Sars. its still early, you seem not very pleasant today.”

Francesco sighed, shrugging helplessly.

Inside my heart, I cursed at the meeting with this unpleasant man. His name is Priest Sars Neilson, and he’s about 30 years old. He is a stern ascetic that constantly picks fights with me.

This guy sure has a lot of free time.

To make matters worse, he has the typical handsome appearance. A refreshing blond youth (albeit persistent and annoying on the inside). I really wonder what his deal is. Can I punch him?

“Hmph. You should avoid interacting with him. He is a filthy heretic.”

“Brother Sars, you shouldn’t say such careless things.”

Francesco’s rebuke was met with a snort of laughter and a glaring stare from Sars.

“Just stating the truth. Are you, by chance, being seduced by that harlot?….Disgusting, lower than a beast.”

Hearing those words, my vision was stained red with anger.

“Hey, you handsome jerk, what did you just say? Say whatever you want about me. Go ahead, feel free. But slandering Amal like that, I won’t forgive you! Let’s take this outside, I will punch you!”

“Kuro-dono! Calm down! Please, Please! Brother Sars, refrain from provoking with such words!”

Francesco hastily holds me back. I strain against him to break free, but it’s not easy. Sars looks down on me coldly.

“How barbaric. How ignorant. That is your sin. You have no fear, you idiot. Despite how a person should be.”

Sars spat those words and turned to leave the lounge. I could not understand what he wanted to convey.

All that left in my heart was an irritation towards Sars and anger at my own helplessness.