Chapter 360: Slightly Spit
Following the point of Field, it is easy to find that extremely abnormal account.
Some people, to be precise, were a group of people who used a whole set of sacrificial vessels to exchange a large number of rations and church livestock.
This is a big business that loses money. The sacrificial supplies will definitely not use poor silver with many impurities, and the cost of materials alone is not low. In addition, professional jewelry, gold and silver craftsmen have long hand-made production cycles, so churches in wealthy areas may not be willing to prepare a set.
After all, it is something that can’t be used a few times a year, so it’s really necessary to use silver-plated and gold-plated.
So, where can I get a set of sterling silver sacrificial vessels in the parish? There is no need to guess the answer to the question.
"Monastery? What are they here for?"
Dominic touched the wrinkled words, like the messy ruts in the mud, heading towards the unknown. "So it's strange. Even if there is insufficient grain storage, there are other larger villages and towns near the road that can be visited, so you don't have to come here to share it." Field was puzzled. "They want everything and almost emptied it."
That is to say, for the sake of this set of sacrificial tools, otherwise the church manager would never be able to lose his money at the risk of losing food.
Any accident happens before the harvest season, the trouble will be great. "And why use the sacrificial vessel to exchange?" The most incomprehensible part is this. It is equivalent to a farmer taking out the land he relied on for some temporary rations. It is a helpless move at the critical moment of survival.
Moreover, as a clergy, doing this has an additional layer of moral and faith issues. Secularizing objects that cannot be measured by the value of money is blasphemy, and when the influence is bad, it will be punished by the church.
There is room for discussion unless it is in some special circumstances, such as war and famine, which is difficult to maintain survival, or to maintain necessary charity.
But Field could not think of any urgent situations that could be encountered in the monastery.
"What do you think?" He turned to Dominic, who was rushing into the text with all his attention, as if something had grown out of it, entangled his eyes and pulled it into that time.
The companion did not say a word, but Field felt that the other party should have read something, just like before, the clues that appeared and disappeared from time to time and meant were fatefully taken to the direction that seemed to be arranged.
Unpability arises in his heart. Although he still has not found its source, the holy emblem hanging above his head does not comfort him, but instead feels uncomfortable being looked down upon.
"No." Dominic massaged the position between the inner canthus and the bridge of the nose with two fingers, and flipped back with one hand to the blank space where there was no record, and then turned back to its original position. "Of course I know something is wrong, what I want to know is what you think." "A fleet is not specifically for collecting food stocks." Thanks to previous experience in food procurement and manor management, it is easy to see that the rations given by the church are dropping the bucket for the consumption of a whole monastery, and there is not much more to everyone.
Field nodded in agreement. The two of them had the same views, so it would be strange what the team came to do.
"What if it is for the fleet only?"
"Not many." Field calculated briefly. According to the fleet of nearly forty people when they arrived, it would be enough to last for half a month, not even livestock and forage. "If there are not many people, it would be a good time to use it."
"But what are they trying to do? It's impossible to come here just to do a loss-making business, unless it's just passing by, the destination is not here."
"They are in a hurry," Dominic added. "I was so anxious that I didn't prepare myself, which led to the need for half-way remedy; I was so anxious that I had no time to raise funds and had no time to stay, so I simply exchanged something with a sacrificial weapon."
"Is this reasonable?"
Of course it is not reasonable. The more you think, the more you feel a sense of bizarreness.
Dominic quickly flipped the whole note back and forth several times, but couldn't find the second similar record. Instead, he determined something and became urgent: "We have to figure out what's going on."
"I think it's hard." Field was pessimistic about this. I'm afraid I've found an illusion when I look up the information and regard it as the library of Notre Dame Cathedral, and I feel that cross-reference information can be found to do research from different angles.
Even if there is, they are not this material. "Write it again, maybe someone else will remember it?" Dominic pressed the knuckles of the bridge of his nose and almost embedded them, trying to squeeze out the silt purple. However, he didn't realize it at all, so he eagerly moved out another old book and quickly searched.
The feeling of uneasiness increased. Field's mood sank, and his companion's behavior reminded him of the owner of those notes for no reason, and he was obsessed with the pursuit of the illusory thing.
However, he could not forcefully stop it. After all, the two were just on the same level. There was no other way except persuading without a clear reason. "What a pity, it's been more than 20 years, and I guess there is no hope."
So long after, the church has changed a group of people, and the current managers may not know the details. "Wait, what did you say just now?"
A casual sentence attracted Dominic's attention, and his eyes lingered among the pile of old papers suddenly turned.
"Uh, no hope?"
"No, let's say another sentence."
"I said...it's been more than twenty years?"
The newest ⊥Xiao⊥Speak⊥Send⊥Six⊥9⊥Book⊥⊥⊥⊥Back⊥⊥⊥⊥! "Yes, that's it." Dominic quickly flipped back the record, compared with the year, and pointed out excitedly, "To be precise, it was the record from June of that year about twenty-one years ago."
"What does this mean?"
"More than 20 years ago, think about when this was."
After staring brightly, Field finally found the key to the other party's point of view: "Monastery? The monastery moved away at that time."
Dominic became more and more excited. Field seemed to see the illusory light burning like a flame in his eyes, leaping hotly, and just like this, his jumping thought burst out from the corner of his memory, filling the speculation with an incredible angle.
"I remember the Baron seemed to mention that they walked in a hurry, not even caring about the half-ripe wheat in the field... The season was also right."
The excessive fluctuations seemed to exacerbate the headache, the skin was congested and red, and sweat fell on the forehead.
In the wet and cold weather, facing the light of the window, Field saw the light white mist rising between the other person's hair.
"There is no second record here. Is it not to remember, or are they not returning?" Dominic's speech speed was accelerating, but his speech was not very smooth. What was rolling in his throat, interfering with expression.
His condition looked a bit weird, like a damaged wind instrument, playing the current fast-paced out-of-tune score intermittently but persistently.
A pathological thought that is free from reason and impulse, forces it to think and express, and fight against physical discomfort.
Finally, the desire to express itself failed to suppress the physiological reaction.
"Vampire!"
Before Field reacted, Dominic vomited violently. The nausea made him unable to take into account the precious paper records in front of him, and almost pulled his stomach out of the esophagus.
The lunch that I had not eaten a few bites had been digested, with only a little tea, mixed with mucus-wrapped leaves and rhizomes.
The spray-like vomiting quickly emptied the digestive tract and was not relieved until the yellow-green bile-like liquid vomited out and the lips were cyanotic because it was difficult to breathe, and the person and the chair fell to the ground.
"Head, hell! Someone comes to help!"
Field was rushing to turn the patient's head to one side to prevent him from choking to death by the fluid he had vomited.