Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 305 – 10 The Mendicant Monk
Winters never imagined that the “Brother Reed” Caman spoke of would turn out to be such a weathered old man.

The elder’s hair and beard contained not a trace of black, and his skin sagged, appearing to drape over his bones.

Due to advanced age, the inevitable loss of bone density made his frame slightly hunched, but the pair of eyes hidden beneath the wrinkles still sparkled brightly.

The mendicant monk, dressed in a coarse gray robe, calmly surveyed the Wolf Town town hall and the two public officials, almost as if he were the true master of this place.@@novelbin@@

In front of this old man, Gerard and Sergei could only be considered young men. Caman addressed him as “Brother Reed,” but in truth, the old man was old enough to be his great-grandfather.

“Sir, how old are you this year?” Winters politely inquired. Keeping in mind that elders often have hearing impairments, he deliberately raised his voice by several decibels, “Seventy? Eighty?”

“Rest assured, Your Excellency, I’m not so old as to be hard of hearing,” Brother Reed laughed heartily as he spoke, “To be honest, I am ninety-five this year!”

Father Caman also explained, “Brother Reed was consecrated only after he turned sixty. He took vows as a mendicant monk, and although he is now ninety-five years old, he still travels about preaching.”

“Ninety-five? Am I seeing a living saint?” Gerard, fifty-four, was greatly surprised and hurriedly moved his chair for the old monk, “Please have a seat, elder. You do seem young… ”

Brother Reed, not shying away from the offer, sat down graciously.

Winters was also quite shocked by the ninety-five-year-old mendicant monk, but he noticed something else out of the ordinary: the elder had an awkward accent when he spoke, sounding as if he were imitating the pronunciation of the common tongue in another language.

“Brother Reed? You’re not a Senas native, are you?” Winters frowned in curiosity.

The old monk replied with a smile, “No, not a Senas.”

“Are you a Selika from the Far East?”

“You are indeed knowledgeable,” the old monk said with an amiable smile, “Few can discern that I am from Selika. Most people who recognize that I am not a Senas assume I am a Saracen from the Far East.”

Indeed! Winters thought.

To the people of this continent, whether they be Senas or Empire, “people from the East” generally refers to the Saracens of the Near East, and “the East” naturally refers to the territory of the present-day Fleman Empire.

The East of the East, the turning point of the monsoon trade route, the land of spices, silk, and porcelain, the extreme orient, is referred to as the Far East by geographers.

However, in this era, most people can’t differentiate between the East and the Far East, nor do they need this knowledge. Apart from scholars, only merchants know there is another powerful empire in the Far East.

To others, the Selika of the Far East are no different from the Saracens of the Near East.

But from the moment the mendicant monk entered, Winters felt that this old man was from the Far East.

Although appearance can vary greatly among individuals, people from different regions have subtle differences in facial features. Even if one can’t articulate these differences, it’s possible to recognize them through intuition.

The mendicant monk, however, was simply too old, his saggy skin, layered wrinkles, and settled pigmentation obscured the distinctive traits of a foreigner.

Thus, to those whose discernment wasn’t very sharp, Brother Reed was merely an old man with a strange accent.

“That’s not unusual, I’ve seen some Selika merchants from the Far East in Vineta,” Winters did not accept the compliment, instead he found the old man more suspicious, “I am quite curious, how does a Selika man receive holy orders from the Church? Has the Church already spread to the Far East?”

“Oh, that’s a long story, and if we start from the beginning, three days and nights might not be enough to tell it all,” the old mendicant monk stroked his beard, smilingly said, “I converted, received holy orders, and was consecrated on Rhodes Island. As for why a Selika man became a mendicant monk of the Church? I don’t understand myself, presumably it is the arrangement of the Lord above.”

Winters wanted to continue his questioning but was interrupted by Gerard.

“You… You come from the farthest east in the world?” Old Dusack’s demeanor became reverent and respectful.

“In a sense,” the mendicant monk gently stroked his beard and smiled, “Yes.”

Gerard’s expression became even more respectful, almost to the point of kissing the hem of the mendicant monk’s robes, “You… Are you a living saint?”

“No.”

Seeing the way Old Dusack was about to bow on his knees, Winters was almost beside himself with frustration.

He coughed twice, asking the old monk coolly, “I previously thought Brother Reed that Caman spoke of was a young man. You’re ninety-five years old, and still want to work as a scribe for me?”

Experience tales with Novgo

“What?!” Gerard was instantly agitated, jumping up and exclaiming, “How could we make Brother Reed work as a scribe?”

“Mr. Michel, please be calm,” the mendicant monk waved at Gerard who immediately quietened down like a trained pup,

Subsequently, Brother Reed said with a poised demeanor, “I am here to apply for the scribe position. I plan to spend the winter in Wolf Town this year, so I’m looking for a job to support myself.”

“You should not work as a scribe, please come to my house. I am willing to provide for you, for as long as necessary,” Gerard said eagerly.

“Mr. Michel, I am a mendicant monk,” Reed smiled and shook his head, “I have taken a vow of poverty, ’no work, no eat,’ I will not accept any free support from others.”