It is true that not many people have access to the vast library of the church, and unrestricted access to documents is a privilege and honor.
Perhaps because they are generally educated, they are more aware of the lack and fragility of knowledge. From the time when the first missionaries set foot on the beaches of the Kingdom to the completion of the Notre Dame Cathedral a hundred years ago, the production and collection of texts by organizations and private individuals has not stopped.
Many people with church backgrounds have similar habits and are keen on compiling and translating ancient books or recording various contents. Historical literature, poetry and drama, folk culture, medical prescriptions, and even various trivial matters, it all depends on personal preferences.
Because they are not systematic, these things are complex and fragile, just like a large piece of exquisite glassware. They can easily be lost in an accident or a change in family circumstances, and be scattered into a vast cultural vacuum where their value is unknown.
But there is always a part that is collected, such as the book owner's donation to the faith before his death, the shopping results of a certain monk, and the church itself is a rich source of output, the amount will become quite considerable.
Even a lot of content that "is likely to lead an unsteady-minded lamb astray" is kept in files for emergencies.
Of course, trickles may not always merge into a river, and more likely they will form a pool of stagnant water due to poor drainage; cell division does not necessarily mean body growth, and disorderly proliferation can only be called tumors.
The church's collection is closer to the latter, and it's still in the early stages. After all, it's very difficult to allocate redundant staff to do a long and unguaranteed sorting and sorting work. In fact, it's extraordinary to be able to barely complete the maintenance.
Not easy.
Just like a huge reservoir, the administrator only pours water into it and does not pay attention to cleaning it. He does not even check carefully what he pours into it. You can imagine the environment that has been damaged over the years.
For those who try to dig out useful content, it cannot be said to be looking for a needle in a haystack, it can only be said to be butterfly swimming in a cesspool.
And Green discovered that he was the man standing on the shore holding a sampan.
"Are you here to return a book?" The copying monk glanced at the condensed version of "Heraldry" tucked under the visitor's arm, and continued to lower his head to transcribe the contents of an old book verbatim.
"No, this is my own." Green hid the book. It was something left over when he was still studying for a theology degree. It is still as good as new. "I came here to find the book."
The monk who is a part-time administrator naturally has a temperament that prefers communicating with books than people. He has no intention of hindering or providing convenience, "Please do whatever you want."
Behind it is a space far larger than the evidence room of the trial court. Rows of shelves are placed against support columns, and various carriers of text are placed unevenly above.
If I read it correctly, I also saw engravings inside. They were not rubbings, but original ones that had been removed from a building or some other object. I just found an empty space to put them there.
Before I came here, I thought it was best to keep a low profile and leave as soon as I found relevant information. Now that I think about it, I probably overestimated my level.
The book I have been reviewing for two or three days is not even a table of contents.
Forced by the situation, the priest of the Tribunal gave up his plan to solve it on his own and asked in a low voice: "Where should I go to find books related to the early days of the kingdom?"
After the copyist monk finished copying the last letter of the word, he lifted the pen and placed it on the rim of the ink bottle aside. He freed his hand and stretched it back. When Green wanted to thank him for pointing the direction, he swept half a circle sideways, covering the entire library.
"I'm sure you can find something of interest on most bookshelves, just as you can pick up conches on every beach."
Yes, then I will waste my whole life counting sand on the beach like you. Green secretly cursed.
He should have thought that those who can appear here are all those guys who are stunned by learning demons. They have a twisted hobby of reading dusty texts and a sense of superiority based on it, so that they have lost the ability to integrate into normal society, so he
Will be sent over.
It not only solves the need to manage the library, but also solves the trouble of finding a job for this group of people, which is tormenting the people who come looking for books.
In Green's view, these people are closer to the most obsessed group of scholars than monks, or there is no clear boundary between the two.
But he did not express his views, but promptly interrupted the other person's tendency to continue to immerse himself in his own world, "I want to find some books about noble family lines, the sooner the better. Do you have any recommendations?"
"The sooner the better?"
The copyist monk touched the top of his head that had not been taken care of for a long time and had short green hair that had grown back. He called among the bookshelves, "Hey, who is there? Someone wants to check the genealogy, the very early one."
Another guy who looked similar, but even more disheveled, emerged from the depths of the library, waved to the visitor, and then walked inside without saying a word.
Green was stunned for a moment before realizing that he probably meant to follow him, and he strode over the pages of paper spread out to dry on the ground to chase after him.
In a very private corner of the library, there is a simple desk that enjoys all the sunshine from the round window, a stack of manuscripts, a few old books placed in random and unstable positions, and ink that has not been closed.
.
While he was sorting it out, Green took a closer look and saw that there were names and patterns strung together by tree-like lines, drawn with a fine pen, and dotted with self-drawn decorative patterns of characters and animals, which were very delicately done.
Some of them have been colored, turning into a map that is both readable and beautiful. The jingling of the full money bag shows that he has received considerable rewards from people who care about these things.
"It's just a living." The monk's explanation was not very convincing, "Which family in the kingdom do you want to know about?"
"I dare not say that the whole kingdom can at least have a piece of land and a surname by the Temu River. I can say a few words."
"all?"
"Well, it's not that exaggerated. At least you have to be somewhat famous. You can't be the kind of country farmer who can't even find his coat of arms."
"That's good." Green nodded, realizing that professional matters should be left to professionals. It makes sense to have a group of people who specialize in studying a seemingly meaningless subject.
"Then which family do you want to know about?"
"No hurry, can I ask your name?"
"You can call me Marco."
"Okay, Marco, now in the name of the Tribunal, I ask you to swear that the content of the next inquiry is absolutely confidential. You are not allowed to reveal even a word intentionally or unintentionally. Otherwise, your soul will fall into hell and be burned by fire forever.
The Day of Judgment is coming.”
The priest had a serious face, and his judgment-like tone, enhanced by his identity, reached a terrifying level, "This is to avoid being used by God's enemies and causing us to fall into irreparable guilt."
"Ah?" The monk was frightened by the sudden seriousness, and then realized that he had no right to refuse, "Yes, I swear, only we and Heavenly Father will know what happened here."
"Very good, please remember, I just came to you today to chat about a certain family's scandal, nothing happened."
"Yes, yes." The monk who was hit by the unexpected disaster responded repeatedly, hoping to get rid of this terrible guy from the Tribunal as soon as possible, and at the same time guessing which unlucky surname was going to be targeted.
"So which family's bloodline do you want to know?"
"Royalty."
"Ah?" The impatience on his face, the tangled and painful expression of being forced to do something due to the situation, froze for a moment, showing confusion, and finally turned into a kind of awe due to misunderstanding.
"I didn't expect you to be interested in this, but I'm afraid this is a question with no perfect answer."
"Why?"
"The royal family's bloodline is so luxuriant that the most complicated heraldic surface at the end even requires dozens of divisions, and the branches connecting the trunk and the crown of the tree...it's shameful to say that many of them have not been clearly depicted."
It seemed that the professor might be right, at least partly. Green was noncommittal and motioned for the other person to continue talking.