Chapter 147: The Grand Draper

The area between and around Jacques Sanctum and the Templar Castle would be best described as a campus. The shops surrounding it were intended for the Templar Knights and the students at their academy.

The castle was a copy of the real world Malbork Castle, except twice as tall. A brown Gothic castle complex built in the brick-build style of the Teutonic Order, a German Catholic military society—or more accurately, crusaders—that constructed the fortress in the town of Malbork, Poland. Its history was long and complex, and it seemed that the castle in front of him was the same in that regard.

’I wonder if Marta and Elena ever saw Malbork Castle,’ Kazi thought to himself. In the present day, Malbork Castle was a popular tourist spot. Being the largest castle by land, it was an easy source of profit for the country. Kazi himself had gone for a tour, it was great.

But the Templar Castle? The Templar Castle was even better. From the outside, he was instantly able to discern the significant jump in symmetry. Inside, the architecture was streamlined and modern. For example, none of the stairs were one-way or too narrow for two people to pass through.

The halls were clean and pristine. In 1945, Wehrmacht and the Red Army had fought in Malbork and, because of their battle, much of the castle was demolished. Walking through the halls, going up the stairs, it was like none of that happened. It was as if Malbork Castle had flourished for centuries and adopted modern sensibilities and magic on top of that.

’The architecture style is pretty much the same but the layout is different. So that makes my memorization of Malbork Castle useless.’

Consistently above was a palm-vaulted ceiling, another reflection to Malbork Castle. Heat came from a hypocaust. The security appeared to be tough, but at the sight of Phillip, the Knights melted.

“Ah, Conrad. Good to see you!”

“Antoni!”

Arms were grabbed, transitioning into a brief hug. It didn’t happen once or twice. It happened a lot.

“Father Phillip.”

“Liam! Stoic as ever, I see! Try to smile sometimes. Otherwise, it might stay that way.”

’He’s well respected here, as I thought he would be. That will hopefully make negotiations easier.’

Phillip stopped a couple times to talk to some knights. Kazi didn’t mind and patiently waited. There wasn’t much suspicion thrown at him. The knights were thinking, ’If he’s with Phillip, then he must be here for a good reason. Is he converting?’

They needed to say it but Kazi was able to read them. No one suspected their intentions. Phillip guided him up the stairs to a tower in the south-east section.

“Here we are,” Philip declared. “Are you ready? Sir Nicolas isn’t an easy man to talk to.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“He’s the type to get irritated easily, so please do that.” Phillip looked him over. “Although in your case, he might think you’re some sort of Saint.”

Kazi didn’t reply to that and simply waited for Philip to push open the door.

The office of the Grand Draper of the Templar Order was as he anticipated, in that it was a workshop rather than an actual office. Defined by muted tones and dark hues, the wall tapestries depicted Jesus Christ—from his birth, the Last Supper to his crucifixion and eventual resurrection—the First Crusade, the Crusades against the Byzantine Empire, and then a crusade Kazi wasn’t able to identify.

’Weird. If I don’t know it, then…it must be a great battle in the Heavenly Games.’ The tapestry seemed to draw upon elements from ancient Mahabharata art for the enemy. ’A battle against ancient Indian warriors? Interesting…’

His quick glances ended and his focus went to the man in the middle of the workshop. A vertical warp-weighted loom stood as the centerpiece with Sir Nicolas as its designer. Rows of taut warp threads, meticulously aligned and weighted at the base, awaited the skilled touch of the Grand Draper. Alas, his touch never came as Sir Nicolas glanced over his shoulder to look at his guests.

“Father Philip and…a newcomer?” Sir Nicolas fully turned towards them. The Templar helmet equipped, he looked Kazi up and down. “Not even a student either. Who is this?”

“Kazi Hossain.” Philip gave a friendly gesture. “A good friend of mine with a…peculiar request.”

“Oh?” A second look over at Kazi. “You have the looks of a deity, I can see that. Are you planning to go into the fashion industry?”

Philip frowned. “No, he is not.”

“Then what? I have a hundred requests to finish, I don’t have time for this.”

Second to the Great Weaver of the Guardians, the lone Draper of the Templar Order: Sir Nicolas Dirkx. No desk or chair in sight, he put great care and effort into his works. If history served Kazi right, the Draper of the Templar Order was second only to the Grand Master and the Marshals. A position of high authority and spiritual importance.

A cursory analysis of the workshop gave deeper information. ’He has two apprentices, or the more proper term, two squires. They might not be here, but…’ His eyes flickered once. ’Two extra looms, two separate styles, unfinished textiles and garments across different areas, too many scissors and needles …yes, he must have two apprentices. Good to know.’

“Your squires are on break?” Kazi inquired.

“Hmph. Yes. But don’t get it twisted, I allow those breaks. They are my proud students and for now they should remain as such.”

’Taking the burden all by himself…being a Grand Draper isn’t easy.’

“I came here because I wanted the best of the best. I want you to help me with a cloak—”

“An outsider is asking me to make something?” Sir Nicolas scoffed. “I’m surprised you didn’t go to the lady in red for it.”

Philip shook his head. “Nicolas, please…”

“Phillip, this better be good.”

“I believe it will be.” A smile spread. “Maybe even threadingly good.”

“I am going to ignore that.” Sir Nicolas crossed his arms. His attire was identical to a Marshal’s—black tunic and chainmail with a long fur cloak. The distinction lay in the colour of the cloak, with the fur being blue and the remaining of it in a floral-patterned white and gray. The large cross at the center was golden rather than black or white. “Thirty seconds, that is all I am willing to offer you, Kazi Hossain.”

Time to step up. “What are the Heavenly Games? The gates? Obviously, they have to be a simulation. An area already set in place and filled with magic. Therefore, it’s pretty obvious what XP is: lingering magic. The System collects and uses it not to amplify the player. Interestingly though, the magical energy is not used to power more magic. No, those are designated as separate stats. So there’s only one thing the System could be powering—the soul.”

“Ten seconds,” Sir Nicolas said.

“I offer you a powerful element of a soul.” From his inventory, Kazi pulled out a golden orb. “A Divine Essence.”

It was the size of a baseball and shined with an ethereal glow. The world itself seemed to flicker around it. The eyes of the Grand Draper were full of astonishment.

“That’s…no, impossible. How did you come to acquire such a thing? Only a high-level divine entity drops a Divine Essence of this calibre.” Sir Nicolas took a step back, horrified. “Who could you have possibly been killed?”

“This was dropped by a future king considered by some to be an avatar of Shiva. A great devotee of Lord Rama and the spiritual son of the god of wind. The greatest war hero in Ramayan.”

“Impossible…Hanuman still lives on Earth. An immortal. He cannot possibly be killed.”

“Have you forgotten that the simulations in the Heavenly Tower are powered by the gods themselves?”

“Rama…” Sir Nicolas said plainly. “But…no, it still shouldn’t be possible. Once the Divine Essence is excreted, then the recreation of Hanuman would cease. That wouldn’t be possible unless there was a special skill involved.” Oh? Kazi smiled. Was that the real reason why the baby Hanuman despawned? Good to know. “What kind of skill do you possess?”

Honesty was the best policy. “Amateur Player Class gives you Lucky Break.”

“But…even then, that’s a one in a million drop.” Sir Nicolas crossed his arms. He hummed, spun on his heel, then turned back. “I understand! God is on your side! Consider me invested, Kazi Hossain. What do you wish for?”

“One Divine Essence to imbue a fine cloak, and two Divine Essences for payment. How does that sound?”

“Too generous,” Philip interjected. “One Divine Essence belonging to the great Hanuman alone is worth hundreds of millions.”

Sir Nicolas glanced at Phillip, irritated that he would let such a detail slip. Kazi had suspected something like this to happen. He was too green and having an ally like Philip was useful.

“Call the second Essence a future favour for me to call in,” Kazi said. “Three favours, to be exact.”

“Deal.” With a flick of his hand, Sir Nicolas summoned a grey parchment. “Let us sign the Blood Pact.”

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