---

The news that Esiocles Emanuele, a clergy member of the Ignatius Order, would visit for an exchange was enough to stir up the usually repetitive and tranquil atmosphere of the Dominican Monastery in Plymouth.

In fact, the Plymouth Monastery, despite being part of the Dominican Order, wasn’t exactly known for its active exchanges with the outside world.

After all, Caledonia was considered a remote rural kingdom on the continent. Traditionally, the hubs of knowledge and academia were thought to be in the eastern capital of Constantinople, Bologna in the Kingdom of Rotaringia, and, if you were being generous, Hamburg. It was rare for anyone to visit a backwater island kingdom like Caledonia.

Given this context, the visit of a clergy member from the Ignatius Order, who was also part of Sophia’s group with notable achievements on the continent, was a rare and welcome opportunity for the Plymouth Dominican Monastery.

“Esiocles, what kind of person do you think he is?”

“From the name, he sounds like he’s from Rotaringia. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine.”

“Subdeacon Baelin mentioned that the clergy of the Ignatius Order are as impressive as those in our Dominican Order. Moreover, since he’s a clergy member like Father Owen, he must be quite remarkable.”

“They say he’s taken down several demons and monsters.”

Brothers Jack Morgan and Ethan Lailach, still young, were shoveling dirt to clear a path blocked by last night’s heavy rain. As they worked, they chatted and let their imaginations run wild about the Ignatius Order clergy member scheduled to visit that day.

Just then.

“Hey, you two! Shouldn’t you be working instead of chatting?”

“Gasp…!”

The familiar voice from behind made Brothers Jack and Ethan stiffen and slowly turn their heads.

There stood a man in monastic robes with a stola draped diagonally from left to right and a dark dalmatic over it. It was none other than Subdeacon Baelin Allen, the drill sergeant of the Plymouth Monastery.

“Ah, haha. Subdeacon. We were just about to get back to shoveling.”

“Hahaha, Subdeacon, you know how good we are at shoveling. Clearing a blocked path like this is nothing.”

Subdeacon Baelin sighed inwardly as he watched the two young monks awkwardly laugh and make excuses. The closed-off monastic environment often left younger monks unable to control their excitement, making them a bit too cheeky.

‘They have good roots, but the soil isn’t providing enough nutrients. I should suggest to Father Owen that we let them experience the outside world.’

Of course, this would need to be approached carefully. With dangers lurking all over the continent, planning a safe and flexible itinerary would be crucial. Subdeacon Baelin made a mental note to discuss this with Father Owen Powell later.

Just then.

“Subdeacon! Father Emanuele has arrived! Father Powell is calling for you!”

A monk ran up from the hill where the monastery was located, shouting the message.

“Understood! I’ll head there now!”

Subdeacon Baelin hurried towards the monastery’s main hall to greet the guest. As he walked, he suddenly tilted his head in confusion.

“But how did Father Emanuele get here? Is there another path to the monastery?”

+++++

What appeared was a muscular, half-naked clergy member standing in a peculiar pose. His bulging biceps, defined pectorals, chiseled abs, and spread latissimus dorsi all gleamed with a holy sheen, exuding presence.

Yet, none of the Dominican monks found this strange.

“Indeed, a clergy member of the Ignatius Order. To become a priest, one must become ‘peculiar’!”

“Now you get it? ‘Peculiarity’ is a ‘necessary condition’ for deepening one’s priesthood. That’s just common sense!”

It was widely known among monks that those who delved deeply into the spiritual practices of the Ignatius Order often engaged in eccentric behaviors.

After all, monastic practice involved facing one’s true self, accepting both the clean and the dirty parts. So, developing some odd habits along the way wasn’t unusual. Even among Dominican monks practicing contemplation, similar cases were common. Thus, a slightly peculiar appearance wasn’t something to be shocked about.

‘Is that just a bit peculiar? What kind of monastery is this…?’

Hildegard, who had followed Esiocles to the monastery, smirked at the sight. However, she herself was part of the group visiting the monastery to inspect the brewing facilities, so she couldn’t exactly criticize the atmosphere of her own St. Veronica Nunnery.

What she didn’t know was that the monks and nuns of the Alps Mountain Range, where Esiocles practiced, were known for their eccentricities, with some even sharing Esiocles’ fashion sense.

However, one question lingered in the monks’ minds.

‘How did he get here? There’s only one path from the outside to the monastery, and it’s blocked by last night’s landslide.’

Due to the heavy rain, the path was blocked by debris, and many monks were still busy shoveling. Yet, the clergy member and nun knight had appeared without being seen at the construction site.

For the monastery, the question of how Esiocles and Hildegard had arrived was far more important than Esiocles’ peculiar attire.

Monasteries and nunneries had long stored valuable items like books and holy relics, and maintained self-sufficiency with substantial reserves. This made them targets for plunderers, and history showed that such attacks were not uncommon.

Thus, these facilities were often located in defensible terrain. The Plymouth Monastery’s single access path was a result of this.

In this context, they needed to know the ‘path’ Esiocles and Hildegard had taken to reach the monastery. While it was unlikely they had missed any terrain over the years, there was always a chance.

However, directly asking the esteemed guests how they arrived could be awkward for the monastery.

Ultimately, it was Subdeacon Baelin who stepped forward.

“Excuse me, Father Emanuele. May I ask how you arrived here?”

“Of course. I simply walked.”

“Walked? Through where…?”

Subdeacon Baelin was startled and pressed further. Walking implied there was another path they hadn’t known about. Esiocles, still in his peculiar pose, smiled kindly and answered.

“I walked through the cliff.”

“Pardon?”

Subdeacon Baelin’s head filled with question marks at the seemingly nonsensical statement. Esiocles, maintaining his dynamic yet static pose, repeated with a benevolent smile.

“I walked through the cliff.”

Subdeacon Baelin pointed to the semicircular cliff surrounding the monastery. The cliff’s smooth, almost vertical rock face looked nearly impossible to climb.

“You came from there?”

“Yes, exactly that direction.”

“You walked?”

“That’s right. I walked.”

“???”

As Subdeacon Baelin stood confused, Father Owen Powell, the monastery’s acting abbot, stepped forward. Having observed many clergy members, including those who had reached extraordinary levels, he remained calm.

Perhaps it was the difference in experience compared to the younger Subdeacon Baelin.

“Regardless, thank you for the long journey. Please, come inside.”

With a playful smile, Father Owen joked, “The monks here have been waiting.” Esiocles, his eyes sparkling, smiled back and responded.

“Indeed. We can’t keep our fellow travelers waiting. Let’s go in.”

“Hohoho, they’re still inexperienced youngsters. I hope you can teach them much during this visit.”

“I’m just an ordinary person, but I’ve heard the talents of Plymouth’s monks are exceptional. I’m sure they’ll find something useful even from someone like me.”

As Father Owen chuckled and Esiocles maintained his serious yet peculiar pose, the two clergy members exchanged pleasantries. Then, Esiocles introduced Hildegard, who had accompanied him, explaining her purpose for visiting.

Father Owen, upon hearing the introduction, turned his gaze to Hildegard and his eyes lit up.

“Ah, yes. There’s a companion who came with you.”

“Hmm? Oh, are you perhaps a nun knight from the Paladin Order?”

“Oh? You recognized me at a glance?”

Hildegard was surprised that Father Owen had identified her affiliation so quickly. Now that she looked, Father Owen also had a well-trained physique, reminiscent of a wrestler or a boxer.

Despite his imposing build, Father Owen smiled kindly and answered Hildegard’s question.

“Not many clergy members exude such refined prayer energy. Most priests have a softer, more gentle aura.”

Hildegard resisted the urge to argue. Despite the clearly non-gentle aura of the clergy member standing right beside her, she wasn’t a child to point that out.

After all, Esiocles was her guarantor, allowing her to legally inspect Plymouth’s brewing and distilling facilities. Unless she was a super-subordinate, it wasn’t wise to upset the guarantor. Of course, Esiocles was broad-minded and wouldn’t mind such trivialities, but still.

As if responding to Hildegard’s expectations, Esiocles made a request to Father Owen.

“If possible, could you show Knight Wolfenstein the brewing facilities?”

“Of course! While the monastery’s interior might be off-limits, the brewing facilities are no problem. I’ll assign a monk to guide you.”

Hildegard’s face brightened at Father Owen’s cheerful agreement.

“Really? That’s a relief!”

As Hildegard sighed in genuine relief, Esiocles’ eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

---