Chapter 9: I Believe in You, Lord Leo

Lying in bed with his eyes tightly shut, Leo focused on the system.

[Personal Information]
[Name: Leo]
[Rank: Third-Class Exorcist]
[Domain: Corezzola]
[Wealth: 0]
[Reputation: 440]
[Devotion: 180]

His reputation had grown considerably, while his devotion had dropped a little—nothing significant to Leo. As for the rank that had remained unchanged, he guessed he would need an official promotion from the Church before he could advance. Acquiring his own domain was the most crucial achievement.

Then there was the newly unlocked system function. Following the system's prompt, Leo opened the "Life Focus" menu. Four routes were presented before him: Diplomacy, Military, Administration, and Intrigue.

Gazing at these four paths, Leo fell silent. He glanced at his own status with some suspicion, then back at the options. Was there a mistake here? As a member of the Church, he couldn't even choose the Scholarship route.

He sighed helplessly and began examining the remaining focuses.

Diplomacy emphasized diplomatic skills, reputation, and family relations—of little use to Leo at this moment. Military even less so; he had no wars to fight, and the only battles he might see would be skirmishes with bandits roaming Tuscany.

Intrigue might be somewhat useful, but Leo felt that managing the monastery well was more reliable than dabbling in court conspiracies.

Given these choices, he could only pick the Administration route.

The Administration path was divided into three aspects: Wealth, Domain, and Responsibility.

Unlike in games, these life focus routes here were presented as simple points on a map, with fog below obscuring any clear strategic paths. Still, the names alone made it obvious—he had to choose Domain.

[Are you sure you want to choose Life Focus: Domain?]
The system prompt appeared.

Without hesitation, Leo confirmed. Immediately, a system chime sounded.

[New Quest Triggered]
[Establish a Monastery]
[Completion Requirements: Build a monastery before March 1067. Develop at least two of the following industries: textiles, dye-making, winemaking, book production, glassmaking, weapon forging, or lumber processing.]
[Rewards: 6 Church Knights, 1,000 gold coins, 500 reputation, 500 devotion, 1 special artisan]

What on earth?

Leo nearly leapt out of bed. The deadline was absurdly tight. There were only four months left until March 1067. To build a monastery and develop two industries in that time? It was practically a death sentence.

The only saving grace was the immense reward on offer.

If he could secure these rewards, Leo’s power would grow rapidly, elevating him from obscurity to one of the leading figures in Tuscany.

As Leo pondered, a knock came at his door.

He hadn’t been asleep at all; he immediately sat upright and crept cautiously to the door.

“Envoy, His Grace the Duke wishes to see you,” came a maid’s voice from outside.

Why would she summon him in the middle of the night? Leo glanced at the bright full moon outside. Tonight, the moon was unusually clear, casting its glow so broadly it seemed to illuminate the entire land. With such weather, it hardly seemed the sort of night for dark deeds.

“Are you sure?” Leo asked in return.

“I’m sure,” replied the maid promptly.

After a brief consideration, Leo decided he might as well go. If Matilda was looking for him at this hour, there was likely something important to discuss.

He opened the door and found the maid standing at the threshold.

A chilly gust swept into the room, making Leo shiver.

“Her Grace awaits you in the tower. Please follow me.”

The maid kept her voice low, as if wary of being overheard by others in the house.

Leo nodded in understanding, quietly shut his door, and followed her out.

Crossing the castle’s courtyard, he ascended to the tower atop the wall, where he saw a solitary figure standing amidst nothing but torches.

The maid who had guided him so far vanished discreetly.

“Sir Leo, you are still awake at this late hour. What weighs on your mind?” Matilda’s voice was sweet and clear, yet tinged now with the authority of a ruler.

She wore a mantle of brown-black bearskin over her shoulders, and though the thick woolen gown covered her, it could not hide the curves of her figure; if anything, it lent her a mature allure. The cinched waist, outlined by moonlight, revealed her perfect form. Beneath her skirt, her long legs seemed to lurk in mysterious shadow, stirring the imagination.

“I was wondering the same, Your Grace—summoning me so late, perhaps you have something on your mind?” Leo replied, sidestepping the question.

After all, the setting was ideal: a deserted tower, moonlight shining bright, silver fields stretching into the distance—all was tranquil and beautiful. It was almost a waste for nothing to happen here.

As expected, Leo’s response drew a gentle smile from Matilda.

“Indeed, you clergy are always so articulate,” she said. “I called you here to ask—when do you plan to begin building your monastery?”

“I thought perhaps you had a personal matter, Your Grace,” Leo replied, a trace of a smile at his lips.

“A personal matter…” Matilda repeated the phrase, tasting its meaning, and suddenly seemed to sense something amiss.

In the moonlight, the young duchess revealed her girlish side, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

She bit her lip. “I didn’t think you’d be so shameless…”

“No, no, Your Grace. The world is like a mirror—what you see reflected is what you hold in your heart.”

With these words, Leo took a step closer.

Seeing him approach, Matilda clenched her jaw and instinctively wanted to step back. Yet remembering Leo’s words, and seeing his calm demeanor, she forced herself to stay her ground—after all, that was the only way to appear above reproach.

“Is that also something God said?” she countered.

“Of course not,” Leo replied. “Those are my own words.”

Watching Matilda clench the hem of her skirt, her face a mix of shyness and resistance, Leo knew she was reaching her limit.

“Very well, Your Grace. I’ll set out for the monastery as soon as possible.”

“Scoundrel…” Matilda muttered. “But I summoned you here for another reason.”

“I am listening, Your Grace.”

Matilda placed her hand on the battlement, her gaze turning sorrowful.

“Ten years ago, to preserve our lands, my mother promised my stepfather, the Duke of Lorraine, that once I came of age, I would be wed to my stepbrother, the hunchbacked Geoffrey. But… he is a cripple, and I’ve heard he has a vile temperament. I do not wish to marry him. Can the Church help me annul this engagement?”

The Middle Ages were not an age of equality.

As a woman, even with immense wealth, she was born a natural victim. Like a child clutching gold, she was coveted by all men who longed for power. Instinctively, she turned to Leo for help.

But Leo shook his head. “With the Church, I am powerless.”

“There’s truly no way, Leo? Not even the slightest chance?” Matilda’s voice was full of helplessness.

“Solutions need not always come from the Church, Your Grace.”

Leo reached out and took Matilda’s hand in his own.

At first, she meant to pull away, but recalling Leo’s words and seeing his composure, she relented. The warmth of his grasp brought her a measure of comfort.

“First, build your own strength. If you’re strong enough, you gain the right to negotiate.”

Leo looked at her again. A chill breeze stirred her long, silver-white hair in the moonlight, as if her destiny itself were blowing in the wind.

For Matilda, the first twenty years of her life had been a current she was forced to follow, with no power of her own to choose her fate.

But now, she would begin to form her own ideas.

“You’re right, Sir Leo,” Matilda said with unexpected gravity, pulling her bearskin mantle close and placing her other hand atop Leo’s.

“One last question: do you plan to build your future in the Church, or here, in the lands?”

At that moment, Matilda gazed at Leo as if she could see through him.

The question of whether the Church or the local clergy offered the better path was difficult to answer. In these years, with the Cluniac reforms underway, local churches were largely dependent on their feudal lords, and thus less constrained by Rome. But leaving the Church’s protection made it much harder to climb higher—one would always be subject to the will of the local nobles.

For a local bishop to enter Rome itself was no easy feat.

But Leo did not reveal his true thoughts.

“I have sworn fealty to you, Your Grace. I will not forget that,” Leo said.

At this, a rare smile brightened Matilda’s face.

“Go and rest, Sir Leo. Tomorrow, you’ll set out for Corezzola and take up your post.”

She released his hand so suddenly it took him by surprise.

Then, unexpectedly, she patted his shoulder.

“I believe in you, Sir Leo.”