A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Milan City

Lamberto was a carpenter, and he was best at carving Holy Images, though he also made furniture and other things in his spare time. But carving Holy Images was different for him. Every time he finished a carving, he felt he was drawing closer to God.

He considered it an incredibly sacred task.

He felt God was watching him through the Holy Images, and so he always believed he ought to be more devout than most people—even more devout than most monks. He knew many monks were ignorant, and some priests were only slightly more learned than a farmer. Besides, the Bishop of Milan was known for taking a wife.

As for himself, though he was just a carpenter, he knew a little Latin because the Holy Images required a short Latin Inscription.

All told, the religious atmosphere in Milan could hardly be called good. At times, he too felt the city was in desperate need of change.

When the Patulin Sect began to preach in the city, he had at first thought it a good thing. It was high time someone dealt with those blasphemous monks and priests.

But he soon discovered they were just blaspheming in a different way.

Given that the Christ World was already in a terrible state, he decided to ignore it all and go home to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, his shop—including all the Holy Images that had yet to be delivered—had been smashed to pieces.

And just like that, he lost his job.

Thankfully, the Patrin Sect Monks said he could still get food by doing other work—as much as he could eat, they claimed.

’Right. That would be a good thing, if it were actually true.’

In reality, all he got were a few wooden tokens and not nearly enough food to fill his stomach.

Oh, right. And there was the daily entertainment: every day in the city square, a few ”heretics” were burned to death for public amusement.

One of the heretics burned a few days ago was an acquaintance of Lamberto’s: Jimmy. He used to sit by the Church entrance all day, living off its charity. God had clouded his mind at birth; he had the body of an adult but the intellect of a child.

He could barely even speak properly, yet he was branded a heretic and burned to death.

That was the official reason. The real reason was that Jimmy’s uncle, trying to rid himself of a burdensome nephew, had framed him as a heretic.

Plenty of people did the same. Some wanted to get rid of a burden, others to seize someone’s property, others to eliminate a rival, and some simply because they didn’t like the look of someone...

So from then on, he resolved to stay far away from all this chaos.

In a tavern, Lamberto was drinking with his cousin, a doctor named Giovanni.

Lamberto’s girlfriend, Caterina, had broken up with him the day before. He was pouring his heart out to Giovanni, but of course, once the wine started flowing, the conversation inevitably drifted to other topics.

”When the Marquis was in power, we all said he was greedier than a Demon, trying to seize an Earl’s Domain he’d never even set foot in, and all for his ignorant, overly sensitive little son.

He taxed us constantly for it, leaving countless families shattered and destitute. But now? We overthrew the Marquis, but what the fuck has changed in our goddamn lives?

Now some mercenary captain is ruling Milan. How is that any better than the Marquis?

Oh, maybe there is one good thing. At least now we have the chance to become glorious soldiers and die on some pointless battlefield,” Lamberto said bitterly.

”Hey, look on the bright side, brother. At least we don’t have to pay taxes now,” Giovanni said with a shrug.

”Yeah, because they’ve already fucking taken everything I own! Bastards. I’m left with nothing.

And look at this place now! What has it become? Honestly, I think it’s turned into a madman’s paradise.

It’s so dangerous here you could get killed just stepping outside to take a piss at night. And the last thing you’d hear wouldn’t be, ’Oh, Christ above, wake up, my brother.’ It’d be, ’Heretic! Heretic! He got what he deserved!’

Where the hell do all these heretics come from?” Lamberto stood and pointed to a desiccated corpse by the door, covered in flies and reeking of rot. ”Look! Look! Lying there is our former Governor. We all knew he donated generously for every festival and celebration, improving the lives of many.

And now he’s dead. The man who held the highest power in the city, dead for a week.

He’s been lying here for a week, and no one has touched him. His body is rotting, and no one cares.

No one has moved him, no one has investigated the cause of death, and no one has even suggested finding a new Governor.

Oh, wait, maybe someone has. That mercenary captain living in the council hall. We’ve found ourselves a mercenary captain for a master.”

Just as Lamberto was ranting, a few stray dogs surrounded the Governor’s corpse and began to gnaw at it. Finally, working together, the dogs dragged the body away.

”See? See that? The body’s being dragged off by dogs. It’s as if to prove my point.

Farewell, Lord Governor!

So long! Hope you enjoy becoming dog shit!

Hahahahaha!”

Lamberto laughed like a madman, waving at the Governor’s corpse as if bidding farewell to an old friend.

”Sigh...” Giovanni sighed.

”How do you tell if someone’s a heretic? Simple. They’re a heretic if someone says they are. No reason, no trial—just straight to the gallows!

Oh, sometimes you don’t even need the gallows. Don’t like someone? Just cut them down. Toss the body in the street, and if anyone asks, you just say they were a heretic.