Chapter 14: Penniless to the Core

As the flames rose high, there were no cheers, no fevered cries. All the townsfolk watched in silence, mourning their departed loved ones. Soon, tears began to fall, and some sobbed quietly. Leo clasped his hands before him and closed his eyes—not to consult the system this time, but to pray for the souls of the townspeople who had perished.

As the fire blazed, the sharp scent of burning flesh drifted on the wind. Yet none pinched their noses or turned away in revulsion. They were, after all, simple folk.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth...” Leo murmured to himself. When his prayer ended, he turned his back to the burning pyre and looked at the people gathered around him.

“I realize I have never properly introduced myself since arriving here. Allow me now. I am a papal envoy, appointed by Duchess Matilda as your lord, tasked with governing you and commanded to establish a monastery here in Corezzola.”

The townsfolk were taken aback by his declaration. They had never expected Leo to hold such a lofty position. Most had believed him a mere priest, not a special envoy of the Church. Some who had previously doubted him quickly fell to their knees, fearful of offending him. Leo looked at them, thinking he could hardly go and raise each one to their feet, so he continued speaking.

“I lack sufficient manpower,” he said. “I need volunteers, and some provisions. Most importantly, I require twelve monks to organize and found the monastery.”

At the mention of monks and nuns, the townspeople fell silent. Few among them had received proper education, a necessary requirement for monastic life. Those who were literate were not necessarily eager to join the monastery, for it was no place of idle pleasure. Life in the monastery meant work, and under a poor abbot, it could be harsher than slavery.

While the crowd hesitated, Helena stepped forward. “I am willing to become a nun and devote myself to God,” she said, hands folded, standing before Leo, her eyes full of trust in him.

It was Leo who had saved her life—how could she not trust him? Leo gazed at Helena, satisfaction growing in his eyes.

“Helena, God will remember your devotion,” Leo said, making the sign of the cross upon his chest.

With Helena taking the lead, her friends soon followed, coming to stand before Leo with hands clasped, faces alight with sincere piety. “We, too, are willing to dedicate ourselves to God.”

Seeing these women, Leo nodded. This was the first group of nuns he had recruited; though not professionals, at least he now had people he could rely on, he thought to himself.

“Then please, swear the oath with me.”

With that, Leo placed his left hand on his chest, raised his right with two fingers pointing to the sky. The others imitated him.

“Here and now, before God and His people, I solemnly promise:
I devote my life to pious service and the salvation of souls.
With a chaste body and pure heart, I shall follow in the footsteps of Jesus Christ, rejecting all worldly temptations and desires.
With humility and love, I shall treat my sisters, sharing in their joys and sorrows, standing by them through hardship.
With the spirit of poverty, I shall renounce material temptations, focusing on spiritual pursuits and service.
With temperance, I shall observe the rules, dedicating body and soul to God.
With charity, I shall face the world, aiding those who are in need of help and compassion.
With God’s guidance, I shall forever hold true to my vows.
In the name of the Father and the Son—Amen.”

When the oath was finished, Leo heard the familiar chime of a system notification in his mind: [Congratulations, Host. You have gained seven nuns loyal to you.]

At last, it was done. Leo opened his eyes and handed the crucifix to Helena. She received it with surprise, lifting her eyes to him, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

“From today onward, you shall be the leader of your sisters. They must serve you with devotion, as you serve me,” Leo said, lowering the crucifix into her hands.

Helena bowed her head over the cross.

...

When Leo’s party departed, the people of Chianodenza no longer regarded him with suspicion, but saw him off with cheers. After basking in their applause, Leo led his company back to Corezzola.

Upon returning, Leo found that the light infantry he had brought had already cleared some brush along the riverbank, felled trees, and set up a basic camp. He had to admit that these peasant-born soldiers were skilled at managing their living arrangements—without instruction, they had made quite a respectable start.

“Is this where the monastery will be built?” Carlo, standing beside Leo, gazed at the small stretch of valley.

Leo nodded. “Yes, though it will require careful planning.”

“Indeed,” Carlo replied, surveying the disorder. “The buildings are far too scattered.”

It was true. Though the soldiers’ huts were habitable, there was no order to them at all; they had sprung up haphazardly.

When the laborers saw Leo return, they gathered around, awaiting his orders. Leo looked at the confusion before him and decided to set it aside for now.

“Let’s not worry about these buildings yet. We need to clear the land from here all the way over there—” he pointed toward the far end of the valley—“to make level ground for the monastery.”

“My lord, we should also build a place to store wood,” one farmer suggested. “The winters bring much rain, so if we want to dry the timber, we’ll need a shed.”

“Yes, of course,” Leo replied, nodding.

The Mediterranean climate was a rare one: winters mild yet rainy, with a precipitation pattern opposite that of most other regions of the world. Certain tasks were best left to local experts.

“We don’t have enough provisions to last the winter,” Carlo said, arms crossed, offering his advice. “Since I can’t brew wine at the moment, I might as well go to Parma to purchase some grain, and perhaps acquire a few livestock while I’m there.”

“What do we need livestock for?” Leo’s question made it clear to everyone that he was not one accustomed to manual labor.

“My lord, come spring, your people will have to move into the valley. We’ll need livestock to turn the riverbank into farmland and grow more grain,” Enrico explained, stepping forward knowledgeably.

Leo listened, finally understanding. So that’s how it was. If the banks of the Enza River could be cultivated, the monastery could be self-sufficient, and any surplus could be sold in Chianodenza.

Still, thinking ahead to the monastery’s construction, Leo posed another question. “If we want to build stone houses, won’t we have to import stone from Parma? It doesn’t seem like there’s enough here.”

He glanced at the surrounding mountains. Though abundant, they were undeveloped, and he’d never heard of quality stone in the area. He instinctively assumed they’d need to purchase it elsewhere—a daunting prospect, given the transport difficulties. Even with livestock, the costs would be prohibitive.

“No need at all,” Carlo replied, shaking his head and pointing to the Enza River. “There’s plenty of sand and gravel here. We can quarry stone from the nearby hills, and there’s volcanic ash as well.”

In the stone-rich Apennines, building material was never an issue. As for volcanic ash, it was a gift from nature itself. Italians needed no clay, sticky rice, or lime—volcanic ash made a perfect mortar for stone walls.

With that, Leo felt reassured. “So, I’ll need to allocate some funds so you can buy grain and livestock?” he asked, only to realize he had no money on hand.

Seeing Leo’s face cloud with embarrassment, Carlo seemed to understand. He took a deep breath.

It was true that clerics were supposed to embrace poverty, but he had never before met one who could not produce even the smallest sum.