Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 511 - 290: Pain Is Not a Necessity

Ulm eventually asked the soldiers about the whereabouts of Bishop Urding.

Indeed, the Grand Master of the Lazarus Redemption Order was Losa, but apart from the Defender Knights, all other branches, especially the main hospital operations, were actually under the control of Urding.

At a time when Losa’s prestige was at its peak.

In this place filled with the wounded, where bodies tortured by injuries and disease were carried out for burial every day, a place many considered so ominous that they avoided it, the most respected person was always Bishop Urding.

"Bishop Urding."

Urding was wearing a white linen robe, standing in front of the furnace, reaching out to feel the heat.

He showed no surprise at Derum’s sudden visit, instead naturally instructed,

"Don’t just stand there, help me pass that gooseneck flask over there, and the basil, St. John’s wort—take out the snake meat from the jar next to it. Don’t worry, it’s already dried."

Am I here to learn herbal medicine?

Derum was a bit lost; I am clearly here to study theology!

He followed Urding’s instructions,

"Put the rest back in place, don’t mix them up; some apprentices might not know the difference, and the wrong concoction could be lethal."

"Bishop Urding, were you a herbal doctor before?"

In many parts of Europe, herbal doctors were akin to wizards in people’s eyes, entities to be feared.

Because they could manipulate strange herbs, brewing suspicious concoctions, some mixed with hallucinogens, making people appear possessed by the Devil.

But to the Kurds, a doctor skilled in herbal medicine was absolutely revered.

"No, I used to be an ascetic; herbal medicine was an elective subject while I was at university in Bologna."

Derum did not realize there was anything amiss with learning herbal medicine at university and asked confusedly,

"Ascetic?"

Derum tried to understand the profound term using what he had heard: "Is it the kind of ascetic who abandons everything, chanting in a monastery, or the kind who lashes themselves with a scourge?"

What Derum referred to, the former are orthodox ascetics, those who abandon everything, cease labor, and focus on chanting and praying.

The latter refers to the "Flagellants," who walk barefoot, sometimes flogging themselves, imitating the torture inflicted upon Jesus before his crucifixion by the Empire—in Jerusalem, such people are often seen.

"What do you think I am?"

Derum shook his head, "Neither."

Although Urding’s lifestyle was quite simple, at the very least his attire was neat, and he bore no visible scars, not resembling a self-tormentor.

Urding smiled, "That’s right, I’m different from both. Derum, if anyone tells you that physical torment brings closer to redemption, that’s a mistake; life was not meant to be suffering."

"What do you think counts as suffering?"

Derum pondered for a moment, then replied, "From the journey migrating from the Piercer’s territory with my tribe to Eira Port, we exhausted our supplies and were attacked by Bandit Corps and Rauf’s henchmen several times; that was quite bitter, with half our tribe dying on the way—also before, when Rauf lost the war against the Marquis, and imposed several new taxes to cover the debt, we went through a long period of hunger to make up for the taxes."

"That indeed sounds bitter."

Urding smiled, "During that time, what kind of days did you long for the most?"

"The days I longed for the most..."

Derum felt a bit embarrassed, "To marry the prettiest girl in the tribe, then spend every day herding flocks together, endless cheese and meat, boundless fine wine—that would be the days I most longed for."

Bishop Urding laughed, "Indeed, that sounds wonderful."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Previously, a woman full of sorrow came to the Wounded Soldier Camp to volunteer for the injured—she was forced by her father to separate from the man she loved and married a much older and lame noble lord."

Derum asked, somewhat puzzled, "What do you mean by this?"

"Becoming the wife of an elderly, near-death man, she could own fertile lands, steeds, manor servants, endless exquisite bread and meat, boundless sweet wine, do you think she was really suffering?"

Derum pondered for a moment, somewhat conflicted, testingly said, "She must still feel quite pained; otherwise, she wouldn’t have come to the Wounded Soldier Camp."

Urding smiled, "She stayed in the Wounded Soldier Camp for three days, with two and a half days spent fainted in bed after witnessing bloody scenes."

Derum was speechless for a moment.

"Before leaving, she told me she donated a considerable amount of money to the Order and thanked me for healing her heartache."

"Derum, you’re quite right; she was indeed in pain. This pain isn’t lesser because of one’s position; a noble lady losing love isn’t any less than your hunger pains. Because for them at that time, enduring that amount of pain was everything they could handle."

Urding smiled as he spoke, "This kind of ascetic life is about finding joy in adversity, which is easier than trying to make oneself happier during smooth sailing."

"I...seem to understand a bit."

Derum tentatively asked, "Like when I was starving, just a piece of bread from someone would make me immensely satisfied and happy, but now, even given a large piece of roast lamb, I can’t eat?"

"Yes."

Urding said, while continuing with his work, seeing the liquid in the pot boiling, he took the gooseneck bottle and funneled the liquid into it.

"The potion is ready, send it to Friar Friedrich, he will handle the further processing, a left turn after you go out." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"Ok."

Urding reminded again, "After you return, come with me to meet someone."

"Alright."

...

Kurs followed behind Losa, asking,

"Sir, do you...value that Derum highly?"

"What do you think?"

"Sir, you want to show everyone that a soldier loyal to you, even if a Kurd, can be rewarded?"

"Yes, but that’s not the whole story."

Losa shook his head.

The Imperial Knights are considered talents but only for this era, and as for the "mass recruitment" granting him a thousand quotas, it merely ensures loyalty at best.