Reincarnated Into The Middle Ages

"Let go!"

"No! I won't! Not unless you promise me something, milord!" A disheveled old man clung tightly to Norn's leg.

"Hey, you old coot, what are you doing? Let go of him!" William grabbed the old man's leg, trying to pry him off Norn, but despite the old man's scrawny appearance, he had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it! My pants are about to fall off!" Norn quickly stopped William, then looked at the old man, feeling quite speechless.

"Sir, please don't do this. If word gets out, people will think I'm some kind of villain!"

"Then please promise to take me in," the old man pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation. He looked up at Norn, the words "have mercy on me" practically written on his face.

Norn covered his face with his hand, feeling like he must have done something terrible to deserve this.

"Can't we talk this through? Sir, let go of my pants first."

"Promise to take me in!" The old man was unmoved, still clinging to Norn's trousers.

Out of options, Norn gave William a meaningful look. William immediately got the hint and put on a menacing face: "You old geezer, if you don't let go, I swear I'll—"

"Go ahead and kill me then. I'm already alone in the world, with no money or influence. If you kill me, you'll have to find someone to clean up the mess." The old man had the demeanor of a true streetwise ruffian.

"But before I die, could milord at least let me have a full meal?"

Norn sighed. If it weren't for the fact that this old man claimed to be an alchemist, he would have thrown him out already.

Twenty minutes earlier, while Norn was working in his study, Togo reported that an alchemist from the Venetian city-state wanted to see him. At the time, Norn didn't notice the hesitation on Togo's face. Hearing the somewhat mysterious profession of "alchemist," he became curious and immediately agreed to the meeting.

Norn had imagined that this legendary alchemist would be a well-dressed, erudite, and wise middle-aged gentleman. Instead, he was met with a disheveled old man.

Norn took a good look at this "alchemist." The clothes were in line with the alchemist's image—a robe with stripes—but it was covered in stains and looked dirty. The old man's beard and hair hadn't been groomed in a long time, making them messy and filthy.

Before he could introduce himself, the old man lunged forward and grabbed Norn's leg, leading to the scene that had just unfolded.

Fortunately, Sassan had been sent out by Norn; otherwise, this old man might have ended up bleeding on the spot.

"Alright, alright, I promise!" Norn reluctantly agreed to the old man's request. After all, it was just one old man; feeding and housing him for a month wouldn't cost much.

But as soon as the old man heard Norn's agreement, he immediately stood up, transformed into a refined and cultured scholar, showing no trace of the rascal he had been just moments ago.

"Baron Norn, allow me to introduce myself. Leonardo Gisello, master alchemist and master of the builders' guild from the Venetian city-state," the old man bowed gracefully. "As a master of alchemy and architecture, I believe I deserve compensation befitting my status. A monthly salary of at least five gold nominals, and an annual research fund of no less than five hundred gold nominals."

Norn's first thought was: This old man is a fraud. But seeing his demeanor and manners didn't seem fake, and if he were going to defraud someone, he should at least wear decent clothes.

Norn wasn't sure, so he probed, "Master, as an alchemist, can you turn lead into gold?"

If the old man had said yes, Norn would have ordered William to throw this fraud out immediately.

But the old man's expression turned serious, like a seasoned professor standing in front of a disappointing student, and said with a hint of frustration, "The ultimate goal of alchemy is to pursue the mysteries of life. How can milord, like other worldly people, only see the benefits of gold? Such a focus on the trivial!"

Norn was left speechless for a moment, and the old man continued, "You must understand, if alchemy truly produced gold, it would only lead to an endless increase in gold due to human greed. At that point, what would be the difference between gold and dirt?"

"Only life is the greatest treasure bestowed upon humanity by the Lord!" The old man sighed, "Yet people remain oblivious, returning it to the Lord after a fleeting few decades."

As if speaking as an expert in his field, the old man's eyes sparkled with wisdom, and his hands waved excitedly.

"Understanding, decomposition, and reconstruction—these are the means of alchemy! Compared to worthless gold, we should use it to pursue the mysteries of life."

Norn stared at the old man with wide eyes. This was the first time he had seen a "scientist" of this era.

The old man was immersed in his own world, as if he saw the gates of truth opening to him and the crown of wisdom within his grasp.

"Milord, do you know how God created humans? How many bones are in the human body?" Old Tan turned to Norn and said solemnly, "Let me tell you, there are a total of..."

"206!" Both of them blurted out the number in unison.

Then they both started in surprise, "How did he know that?"

Norn had a bold guess and said with a mischievous smile, "Master, did you come here because the Church made it hard for you to stay in Venice?"

"Nonsense! I just... I came to the Holy Land to atone for my sins," the old man's voice wavered, but he quickly regained his composure and retorted, "Who is your mentor, boy? Bring him out to see me."

"I'm not anyone's disciple. I just happened to find a notebook in a monastery," Norn made up an excuse on the spot.

But the old man scrutinized Norn and then asked, "I heard that milord is from the Duchy of Mecklenburg in the north of the Holy Roman Empire?"

Seeing Norn didn't deny it, the old man added, "Did that notebook come from a monastery in the Wallenstein fief?"

Norn looked at the old man in amazement, but the old man laughed happily, feeling a sense of camaraderie, "Then I'll trouble milord in the future. But could milord please advance me a few months'..."

Before the old man could finish, Togo rushed in, glanced at the old man with disdain, and then whispered something to Norn.

Norn's eyes widened as he looked at the old man, hardly able to believe what Togo had just reported: "A tavern wench is asking the master for an overnight fee."