Medieval Gacha Lord-Chapter 82: The Stolen Corpse

Chapter 82: The Stolen Corpse

"I accept your fealty, Uldin. I hope that in the time we spend together in the future, we can cast aside our differences and seek common ground while reserving differing opinions."

Lothar looked at this man—stern-faced, his hair meticulously groomed, almost with "inflexible" and "unapproachable" practically tattooed on his face—and a trace of helplessness arose in his heart.

From Uldin’s perspective, his view of the Two Sicilies wolf clans was entirely correct. In the Two Sicilies ruled by the wolf clans, everything naturally prioritized the wolves; ordinary humans lived in dire straits. Uldin alone, weak and isolated, simply lacked the strength to resist and could only choose to leave.

But for Lothar, Uldin’s world was merely a background he had fabricated, even if it had, in some sense, become a real world. Could Lothar possibly kill a retainer after summoning them simply because they were a bloodthirsty demon who had committed countless crimes in the game world? Wasn’t that absurd?

Fringilla, for example. In her personal storyline, there was a plotline where she transformed into a "Tyrant," destroying an entire town. But this didn’t prevent Lothar from genuinely liking this somewhat tsundere little miss.

Therefore, Lothar could only try to change Uldin’s thinking. But how could an ascetic monk like Uldin, with a will as strong as iron, be swayed by a few mere words from others?

If the one "preaching" to him hadn’t been Lothar, Monk Uldin would have long since swung that brick-thick Bible of his and smashed it against their temple for some physical enlightenment.

’If I had known it would be like this, I shouldn’t have designed factional hatreds between retainers in the first place. It would have been better if everyone just got along happily.’ In any case, whether the game made money or not no longer concerned him. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Lothar helped the kneeling Uldin to his feet. "Come, I’ll take you to see Archbishop William. I need to request a position for you as a parish priest of a diocese, or perhaps a deacon. I hope you can shoulder the responsibilities of parish priest for Jorgklusburg." In short, it was to secure an official position for Uldin.

"I know you once held the clerical rank of archbishop, but in this world, everything must start anew."

Uldin nodded. "Ever since I witnessed the Church colluding with the wolf clan, clerical rank has ceased to be important to me. To continue proclaiming God’s will under your command is my greatest pursuit."

Lothar continued, "After we leave, you may meet my other retainers. As you said, among them are werewolves, vampires, and members of the Ghost Race. I know you abhor these ’others.’ But they are now, just like you, colleagues serving under my command. I do not demand that you all get along harmoniously, but you had best not provoke them, because you will not be their match, and I will not favor you."

In terms of combat strength, ordinary people were naturally no match for Uldin. If he donned heavy armor and wielded a warhammer, he would be a formidable warrior on the battlefield. But compared to Hans, Fringilla, Banu, or even Marlus, he was far inferior.

Uldin said gravely, "Evil cannot forever suppress the light..."

Lothar interrupted him, saying sternly, "But under my command, I have no need for pure light or darkness. Only those who are of use to me are ’light’ in my eyes."

Uldin fell silent. Lothar knew he couldn’t change his thinking and had already given up on the idea. He changed the subject, "Can you treat leprosy?"

Father Uldin in his black robe pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "You wish to treat that famous Leper King, don’t you? Healing others is my duty, but please forgive my limited ability, Milord. Leprosy—it is an evil poison like the Black Death, not an injury of bleeding or broken bones. I’m afraid I cannot cure it completely."

"Cannot ’cure it completely’? To what extent can you treat it at most?"

"Alleviating the injury and prolonging life is not a problem. Perhaps I can even restore the patient’s crippled limbs. But as time passes, his life will still be consumed by the ’evil poison’."

’Is ’evil poison’ a term for bacteria?’ Lothar mused, "That is better than nothing."

Even if he was top-tier among four-stars, he was still just a four-star. The meaning of "Extraordinary" was possessing abilities beyond the mundane, but it was normal for these abilities to be limited.

’If it were a five-star healer retainer, they should be able to completely cure leprosy, right?’

Lothar was only worried that Baldwin IV had already lost the will to live and would refuse treatment.

The greatest suffering of leprosy was not physical, but mental. No one could look at their own crippled, stiff, ulcerating, and deformed body every day and remain indifferent.

Pushing open the door, Banu, who had been sitting by the window reading a book, lifted her head slightly. A few strands of her black hair obscured her eyes, making her look somewhat disheveled. "He is?"

"Uldin, an ascetic monk from Tuscany."

"Oh." Banu lowered her head and continued reading. She had never heard this name, nor did she care what others thought of her. In her long and tedious life, she only cared about two things: Lothar’s safety, and the captivating stories Lothar told.

The book she was currently reading was a trial copy Lothar had secretly produced using block printing. Its content was not theological scripture, but a fantasy novel, the kind most easily spread and most captivating.

Its name was—’The Witcher’. It told the story of Van Helsing, a mutant who had injected magic potions and still followed the sacred light, continuously hunting monsters and proselytizing for the Lord. The content was cobbled together by Lothar from the stories of Van Helsing and Geralt; only the first volume was out, but for the people of this world, it was already exciting enough.

Lothar was planning to release some of his stock to see if he could promote it among the nobles.

In addition, there were the stories of ’One Thousand and One Nights’, which he planned to sell in Egypt and Persia.

The cultural atmosphere of the Saracens at this time was far more vibrant than Jerusalem’s. The Royal Library in Cairo held a collection of two hundred thousand volumes, and the popular enthusiasm for scholarship far surpassed that of Europe, which was rife with illiterate lords.

"That smell... tsk, a monk recognized by the Holy Light?" Fringilla glanced disdainfully at the ascetic monk, pursed her lips, and similarly paid this minor character no mind.

The enemies of the Blood Court had never been the Church of the Holy Light. For no other reason than that they simply looked down on them.

She was currently playing dress-up with a group of young maidservants. These maidservants were the Persian female slaves as-Salih had gifted to Lothar along with the ten Arabian warhorses. They have good looks and figures, dressed in exotic white gauze, their forms swaying, captivating the heart.

But Lothar wasn’t used to being served by others, so he had simply handed them all over to Fringilla for "training."

Hans had gone to the training ground to supervise the new recruits’ training and hadn’t returned yet. It had to be admitted, the hardworking Hans had helped Lothar shoulder too many responsibilities.

Lothar would gladly call him a model worker!

***

Lothar, with a dozen or so Winged Hussars, galloped through the main street like the wind, heading straight for the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Patriarch was advanced in age and his energy was failing; many affairs had been transferred to Archbishop William. Therefore, William’s office had also been moved to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

There were few idlers on the streets; one might even say it was deserted. Not only because of the departure of the northern Crusade, but also because the once endless stream of trade routes and infidel pilgrimage routes had been cut off.

Just as he arrived at the entrance of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a young man leading a horse out called out in pleasant surprise, "Baron Lothar! You’ve come at just the right time! His Excellency the Archbishop was just about to send me to find you!" This was Archbishop William’s secretary, a very decent young man, honest and reliable. Lothar had a good impression of him.

"What is it?"

The secretary lowered his voice and whispered in Lothar’s ear, "The werewolf’s corpse has been stolen."

Lothar frowned. "Didn’t I warn Archbishop William that someone was interested in this corpse and that they should strengthen their security?"

The secretary looked embarrassed. "At first, we were very careful and even specifically used the ’password’ you invented. But after so many days with nothing happening, the guards became lax."

"Forget it. Take me to see Archbishop William first."

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