A bathhouse in Rouen.

The luxury of the decor here was on par with any palace.

There were tapestries on the walls, mats on the floor, and cushions on every seat. Several couples were engaged in indescribable acts under the blankets.

The room also had screens, used to block sexual acts too embarrassing or sinful to be looked at directly. There were about eight to ten girls and a few young men, some with foreign accents. Many of them were slaves, mainly Saracens and Slavs.

"We’re gonna take on ten!" Belem and Arno shouted.

Then, the madam stood beside them, introducing the specialties of each girl: this one was buxom, that one was skilled, and another was shaved completely clean.

Belem and Arno each grabbed a girl, surrounded by four or five others, and rushed into a room.

Eric watched them, speechless.

He then took a few silver pence from his pocket, tossed them to the woman in front of him, and walked out of the bathhouse.

He had no time to fool around with them here.

Just as he stepped out of the bathhouse, he saw a familiar figure in the crowd on the street.

The other person saw him too.

"Hey, Mr. Eric!"

It was Shire, the young Cultivator he had met in Caen City, the one who was arguing a case for a Knight’s widow.

"Shire? What are you doing here?"

Eric had a good impression of this young man, who was as young as Hessin.

"I... I came with my uncle. He’s here to attend an important meeting. He’s a wool merchant from Caen."

"A wool merchant? His name wouldn’t happen to be Brewer, would it?"

Eric recalled the wool merchant who had, in a way, helped him out.

"Huh? Mr. Eric, you know him?"

"Yes, it’s quite a surprise. So why did you come here with him? Don’t you need to finish your studies? Have you completed the Trivium?"

The required curriculum for the Clergy, especially Cultivators, was known as the Seven Liberal Arts: grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music.

The first three were called the Trivium, part of elementary education, and upon completion, one could receive a bachelor’s degree. The latter four were called the Quadrivium, and upon completion, one could receive a master’s degree.

Completing the Seven Liberal Arts took at least six years. A typical Cultivator would begin their studies at fourteen, and Shire was sixteen at most.

Shire should have just started studying the Trivium, so it was surprising that he had time to be wandering around.

’That’s not how you study.’

"Mr. Eric, I’ve actually already completed the Seven Liberal Arts. Although my grade in logic was a bit borderline, it was still a pass."

"What? You’ve completed them? When did you start?" Eric was a little surprised.

"I was sent to the Monastery when I was very young. I started studying at thirteen and just graduated at the beginning of this year. I actually came to Rouen for my studies, definitely not for fun," Shire said, rubbing his head a little sheepishly.

Eric: "...."

This left Eric feeling a bit defeated. It had taken him nearly three years to complete those subjects, and that was after studying diligently in Rome for two years.

After learning that Giscard was going to send him to a Monastery, Eric had once thought that maybe becoming a Bishop would be a good option.

"Are you planning to pursue theology?"

After completing the Seven Liberal Arts, one could study more advanced disciplines like theology, medicine, and law. These studies usually took more than ten years, and upon completion, one would earn a doctorate.

"Yes, but my Monastery has no more openings. A Monastery can only support two doctoral candidates at most, and ours already sent two last year. So I wanted to ask my uncle to sponsor my studies in Paris.

But...."

Shire lowered his head, dejected.

Evidently, things didn’t go as he had wished.

Eric felt a flicker of sympathy for Shire.

But he couldn’t be too harsh on the Abbot.

After all, supporting a full-time student for over a decade was no small feat. Furthermore, the Divinity School in Paris was in the city, and the required expenses were not a small sum. For an ordinary Monastery, supporting two such students was already its limit.

And in a way, the Abbot of this Monastery was relatively upright for not embezzling the funds. Many monasteries had the money to provide support but chose not to, with the funds ending up in the abbot’s pocket instead.

"Do you really want to go?"

Eric looked at Shire.

For an ordinary Cultivator, successfully obtaining a doctorate meant that even someone of humble birth had a chance to become a Bishop, or even the Pope.

The current Pope, Gregory VII, was a doctor of law, and his father was a common blacksmith.

His life story inspired countless Priests and Cultivators not born into the Nobility.

"The saints believe and teach us that God, the beginning and end of all things, can certainly be known through human reason in creation. This is only natural, for everything in the world contains God’s eternal power and divine nature.

Mr. Eric, I firmly believe that all of creation has meaning. It is precisely in this way, through such supernatural means, that God reveals His eternal law to mankind, along with His wisdom and goodness.

Therefore, every Cultivator should seek to understand these things and pursue God’s eternal law."

Shire said this with his head lowered.

Then, Shire felt a hand on his shoulder, and an envelope was pressed into his hand.

"This is..."

Shire recognized the wax seal on the envelope. It was the crest of the Paris Divinity School.

"Though it is unseen, it can be known through the things that are made. This is God’s eternal law. As Paul said, it leaves people with no excuse."

Eric clapped Shire’s shoulder again.

"So... you have no excuse. Go and pursue the eternal law you seek, Shire."

"But..... this was promised to you by God, Eric..."

"No, He promised me something else. Something... something that might not be any worse than this.

Me, I’m just a passerby. My existence is an accident, an accident that has perhaps taken too much that originally belonged to others.

So... don’t refuse it. Just take it as God’s plan and go do what you must do.

If you want to thank me, then study hard. There aren’t many good and wise people left. Brother Shire."

Eric waved his hand at Shire in farewell and, without waiting for a response, started walking down the street.

Shire caught up to Eric and stood in front of him.

"Mr. Eric, my name isn’t actually Shire. Shire was a fake name I made up. I was afraid Father Kenji and the others would retaliate against me. My name is Roseline of Gonbini.

Roseline from Gonbini. Perhaps... before we meet again, Mr. Eric, you will hear my name again."

Then Shire—no, Roseline—ran off in the other direction down the street.

"You will hear my name again!"

"Then... may God be with you."

Eric watched the young man’s retreating figure and murmured softly.

Eric mulled over the name. He felt it was very familiar, as if he had heard it before.

Roseline of Gonbini.

Then he turned his head again. He was heading in the opposite direction, toward the Cathedral of Rouen City, where his knighting ceremony would take place tomorrow.

As part of the knightly ritual, he needed to spend the night before the investiture in the Church.