Krafft's Notes on Anomalies

Following Field's instructions, it was easy to find the extremely abnormal account.

Someone, or rather a group of people, exchanged a whole set of sacrificial vessels for a large amount of food rations and the church's livestock.

This is a big business that will result in a loss. Sacrificial items will definitely not be made of inferior silver with many impurities. The material cost alone is not low. Add to that the long manual production cycle of professional jewelry and gold and silver craftsmen, and the churches in wealthy areas may not be willing to prepare a set.

After all, it is something that is not used many times throughout the year, so if necessary, it would be ok to get something plated in silver or gold.

So where in the parish could one find a set of pure silver vessels? There was no need to guess the answer.

"A monastery? What are they doing here?"

Dominic touched the wrinkled words, like messy ruts in the mud, heading towards the unknown.

"So it's strange, even if the food storage is insufficient, there are other larger villages and towns close to the main road to go to, so they don't have to come here to share." Field was very puzzled, "They want everything, almost empty this place."

It was because of this set of sacrificial vessels that the church managers would never risk running out of food and emptying their coffers.

If anything unexpected happens before the harvest season, it will be a big trouble.

"And why exchange the sacrificial vessels?" This is the most incomprehensible part. It is equivalent to a farmer giving up the land he depends on for survival in exchange for some temporary food. It is a helpless act at the critical moment of life and death.

Moreover, as a clergyman, doing so raises an additional moral and religious issue. To secularize an item that cannot be measured by monetary value is considered blasphemy, and if the impact is bad, it will be punished by the church.

The matter is only up for discussion in some special circumstances, such as when encountering war or famine, making it difficult to survive, or in order to maintain necessary charitable undertakings.

But Field could not imagine what kind of urgent situation the monastery might encounter.

"What do you think?" He turned to Dominic, who was concentrating on the text, as if something was growing out of it, entangling his gaze and pulling him into that time.

His companion said nothing, but Field felt that he must have read something. Just like before, the clues that appeared and disappeared from time to time and had unclear meanings led them in a seemingly planned direction as if by fate.

Unease grew in his heart, although he still hadn't found its source. The holy emblem hanging above his head did not provide any comfort. Instead, he felt uncomfortable as if he was being looked down upon.

"No." Dominic used two fingers to massage the area between the inner canthus and the bridge of the nose, and with one hand he flipped back to the blank space where there was no record, and then flipped back to the original position.

"Of course I know something is wrong, I want to know what you think."

"A caravan is not specifically for collecting stored food." Thanks to previous experience in food procurement and manor management, it is easy to see that the rations given by the church are a drop in the bucket compared to the consumption of an entire monastery, and there will not be much left when it is distributed to each person.

Field nodded in agreement. The two of them agreed that it was strange what this team was doing here.

"What if it's only for fleet use?"

"Not much." Field roughly calculated in his mind. According to the nearly 40 people in the caravan when they came, it would only last for half a month, not counting the livestock and fodder. "If there are not many people, it will be enough for a good part of the journey."

"But what are they trying to do? It's impossible that they come here just to do a loss-making business, unless they are just passing through and their destination is not here."

“They’re in a hurry,” Dominic added.

"We were in such a hurry that we set out without making any preparations, which resulted in the need to make up for the loss halfway. We were in such a hurry that we had no time to raise funds or stay, so we simply used the sacrificial utensils to exchange for other things."

“Does this make sense?”

Of course it doesn't make sense. The more I think about it, the more bizarre it seems.

Dominic quickly flipped through the notebook several times, but couldn't find a second similar record. This made him certain and anxious: "We have to find out what's going on."

"Let's look through it again. Maybe someone else has happened to have a record of this." Dominic's knuckles pressed against the bridge of his nose until they almost dug into it and left a bruise, but he was completely unaware of it. He just eagerly took out another old book and searched quickly.

The feeling of uneasiness increased. Field's mood sank. His companion's behavior reminded him of the owner of those notes, who was obsessed with the pursuit of illusory things.

However, he could not stop it by force. After all, they were just equals, and without clear reasons, there was no other way except to persuade.

"It's a pity. It's been more than 20 years. I guess there's no hope."

So much time has passed, and the people in the church have been replaced by a new group, and the current managers may not know the details.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

A casual remark attracted Dominic's attention, and his eyes, which had been lingering among the pile of old papers, suddenly turned.

"Uh, no hope?"

"No, one more sentence."

"I said... more than 20 years?"

The latest novel is published first on Liu9shuba!

"Yes, that's it." Dominic quickly flipped back to the record, checked the year, and pointed out excitedly, "To be exact, it was about twenty-one years ago, in June of that year."

"What does this mean?"

"Think about when this was, more than 20 years ago."

With his sharp gaze, Field finally found the key to the other party's suggestion: "The monastery? The monastery moved away at that time."

Dominic became more and more excited. Field seemed to see the illusory light burning like a flame in his eyes again, hot and leaping, just like the jumping thoughts at this moment, bursting out relevant details from the corners of memory, filling in the speculation from incredible angles.

"I remember the Baron mentioned that they left in such a hurry that they didn't even take care of the half-ripened wheat in the fields... It was the right season."

The excessive emotional fluctuations seemed to aggravate the headache, the skin became congested and red, and sweat flowed from the forehead.

In the damp and cold weather, facing the light from the window, Field saw the light white mist rising from the other person's hair.

"There is no record of a second time here. Is it because they didn't record it, or did they not return?" Dominic's speech speed was increasing, but his pronunciation was not smooth. There was something rolling in his throat, interfering with his expression.

His condition looked a little strange, like a damaged wind instrument, playing an improvised, fast-paced, out-of-tune score intermittently but persistently.

A morbid thought that wanders between reason and impulse, forcing one to think, express, and fight against physical discomfort.

Finally, the desire to express failed to suppress the physiological reaction.

"vomit!"

Before Field could react, Dominic vomited violently. The nausea made him unable to care about the precious paper records in front of him and almost pulled his stomach out of his esophagus.

The lunch that I had only taken a few bites of had already been digested, leaving only a little tea mixed with chopped leaves and roots of plants wrapped in mucus.

The jet-like vomiting quickly emptied the digestive tract, but there was no relief until yellow-green bile-like liquid was vomited out, the lips turned cyanotic due to difficulty breathing, and the person and the chair fell to the ground.

"Damn it, damn it! Someone come and help!"

Field frantically turned the patient's head to one side to prevent him from choking on his own vomit.