“Where is the mayor of Pisa?”
As I hurried to enter the town hall, the guards crossed their spears in an X shape to block my way.
“Halt! Identify yourself!”
“I am Baron Rothschild, and this is the Bishop of Pisa. We’ve co urgently to discuss a matter regarding the plague! Open the gates!”
Normally, no matter how noble I am, I wouldn’t behave this way.
Though by rank, the mayor is technically a lesser noble, a re baronet compared to my barony, his position as the count’s representative in the County of Pisa grants him significant authority. Barging into his workplace unannounced would be akin to spitting in the face of the count himself.
“I’m sorry, but the mayor has ordered no outsiders to be allowed in under any circumstances.”
In ergencies like a plague outbreak, this kind of precaution is appropriate.
In a crisis where every second counts, letting in outsiders who might disrupt the work of officials could lead to utter chaos.
However, the Bishop of Pisa had a different opinion. He looked ready to grab one of the guards by the collar and snapped at them sharply.
“So you’re calling an outsider?”
“N-no, sir, but due to administrative—”
“Administrative? Are you, a re guard, lecturing on administrative procedures? Pisa’s town hall must be a remarkable place if even the guards can teach bishops about governance. Who is your direct superior?”
Ah, the classic strategy of the high and mighty—start with the chain of command when looking to discipline soone.
Even though I’ve never personally been on the receiving end of that line in this life, just hearing it sent shivers down my spine.
“I, uh… that is…”
The guard’s pupils darted nervously, and his entire body began trembling like a leaf. At this rate, one more sharp remark, and the poor man would drop to his knees, wailing for rcy.
“Enough. It’s not your superior’s fault, is it? In fact, I should comnd you to the Pisa garrison’s commander and captain of the guard as an exemplary soldier. Congratulations, you’ll be promoted soon.”
“P-please, spare …”
“Co now, I’m trying to secure you a promotion, and anyone listening would think I was sentencing you to death.”
Watching this interaction, I couldn’t help but think that indulgences might not be such a bad idea after all.
The scriptures, much like the Bible, were ant to teach people to live righteously and kindly.
Yet here were clergyn, restricting the right to read and interpret the scriptures for themselves, demanding exorbitant penances of 500 gold coins from soone working to prevent a plague, and wielding their authority so ruthlessly.
‘These people deserve a good smack with the Deus scriptures.’
Perhaps it’s ti to enlighten them with the progressive teachings of the British Empire.
Before the bishop could figuratively or literally kill soone, I stepped in to de-escalate.
“Bishop, this soldier was rely doing his duty, much like a loyal dog barking at soone approaching its master.”
People like him, with their egos inflated by their social standing, usually calm down when soone of similar or higher rank acknowledges their pride.
As expected, the bishop’s furrowed brow relaxed almost imdiately.
“Well, if that’s the case, I suppose I can overlook it. Now step aside.”
The guard heaved a sigh of relief, as if a decade of life had been added back to him.
“Please, go inside quickly. Every second counts, Your Grace.”
In novels or dramas, when soone of high rank causes a commotion, they might apologize for the inconvenience.
But doing so here would only insult the bishop further.
The bishop had already tarnished his reputation slightly in this situation. If I were to lower myself further to acknowledge the guard, it would seem like I was undermining him.
‘Let’s not waste ti. The matter is urgent.’
We entered the mayor’s office, and the Mayor of Pisa frowned upon seeing .
However, upon noticing the presence of the bishop—a man of higher standing—he quickly adjusted his expression.
“Your Grace, what brings you here? I must apologize, but with the plague outbreak, we’re in complete chaos. Perhaps we could et another ti…”
The bishop, for all his flaws, is shrewd.
Though he might be soone who could earn a head-smacking from Deus at any mont, he wouldn’t have risen to oversee a lucrative diocese like Pisa without his social intelligence and political acun.
Having already received both penance and bribes from , he knew exactly what I expected without needing explicit instructions.
“What plague response are you even managing? At most, you’re telling people to bury bodies in mass graves or giving money to those plague-doctor vagabonds wandering around in strange costus.”
If a 21st-century modern human were to be transported to a dieval or early modern fantasy world, their best bet for employnt would be as a doctor.
dicine in this era is utterly abysmal.
Patients are beaten with sticks under the pretense of confessing their sins, bloodletting is common because bad blood is blad for illness, and treatnts involve inhaling rcury or pouring molten lead into wounds.
Even just advising people to wash their hands and follow basic hygiene could earn you a position as a personal physician to a noble family.
‘Though surgery would likely be the limit of what you could do.’
“The Baron of Rothschild here has gone to great lengths to prepare a counterasure for the plague, even though it doesn’t concern his own territory. He’s spent countless nights studying the scriptures to devise a plan. From what I’ve heard, his argunts are sound and logical.”
In the dieval and early modern periods, clergy weren’t just theologians.
They studied theology, of course, but also administration, dicine, and philosophy, along with law—practical knowledge necessary for running their dioceses.
Thus, even compared to the average quack, the bishop likely had more substantial dical knowledge.
“Is that true?” the mayor asked, visibly skeptical.
“Do I seem like the sort to lie? Listen closely to what this man has to say.”
The mayor frowned and tilted his head, clearly weighing his options.
The bishop hadn’t explicitly told him to relinquish his authority, but the use of “closely” in his instruction implied, “Your role is to rubber-stamp this.”
Even in a dieval fantasy world, ceding authority isn’t an easy thing to do.
If soone told the sa thing in my position, my first thought would probably be to smash their head in.
“But, Your Grace, surely…”
Honestly, I wouldn’t resort to such drastic asures if the situation weren’t so dire.
Overstepping the bounds of the mayor’s authority goes against my generally upright conscience, and ddling in another territory’s affairs is akin to declaring war on the Count of Pisa.
While he wouldn’t be able to kill outright, given that I’m the son-in-law of Duke Visconti…
‘The aftermath would likely cost half my family’s fortune.’
Still, the potential benefits of taking such a risk far outweighed the consequences, making it worth a serious attempt at persuasion.
“Mayor of Pisa.”
The mont I lowered my voice and spoke firmly, the mayor stiffened.
Did he think I was about to devour him or sothing?
No, I wasn’t here to kill people. I was here to save them—including his political career and family’s legacy.
“There’s a poorly constructed poultry farm near Pisa, built under your authorization, correct?”
“Yes, that’s true…”
“My investigation has revealed that the plague is spreading from shoddily replicated poultry farms, like that one.”
The mayor’s brow began to sweat at my words.
“You took a bribe to approve its construction, didn’t you? Even just a single gold coin?”
In the Joseon dynasty, it was common for lowly water vendors to earn more than magistrates.
The sa held true in most other nations.
How could such a vast inco disparity exist between a vendor and a magistrate?
The answer, of course, lies in bribery.
“When it becos clear that these shoddy poultry farms caused the plague, those who approved their construction will lose their heads. Think of your children’s futures.”
While decapitation is unlikely—this isn’t a world where hygiene laws are strictly enforced, and bribery isn’t seen as a severe cri—there will undoubtedly be political repercussions.
Perhaps my “advice” had an effect.
Moved by my selfless dedication—or more likely out of fear—the mayor’s attitude shifted dramatically.
“Well, since His Grace the Bishop has vouched for it, there’s no issue at all! I’ll gladly grant you full authority over the plague response. Hahaha…”
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