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The name “Caledonia” originally referred to the region encompassing the islands of Erin to the west, Albion to the north, Breton and Wessex to the south, and Northumbria to the east. Plymouth, in particular, was a naval port city within the Duchy of Cornwall in the Breton region.

This area had a historical tradition of being a crucial gateway to the continent via the sea since the days when the Duchy of Cornwall was a small kingdom called Dumnonia. This tradition continued into the present, making Plymouth a bustling port city and the home base of the Breton navy, complete with a thriving harbor and a royal fortress.

“Definitely, the atmosphere here feels closer to Brest than Bordeaux,” Conra remarked as he stepped onto the dock of Plymouth Harbor, where the morning fog had just lifted. The boy’s eyes were already busy taking in the sights of the newly arrived port. Though their sea journey had grown quite long, and they had visited many ports along the way, Conra found that each port had its own unique charm, leaving no shortage of things to see.

“Well, it’s only natural since it’s a naval port. Of course, like Brest, the military and civilian ports are separate here,” someone commented.

Naturally, even in a port city that served both military and civilian purposes, it was rare for a single port to handle both functions simultaneously. After all, the purpose of a civilian port was to facilitate the flow of commerce, while a military port aimed to secure maritime routes and protect the seas. Trying to manage both in one port would only lead to bottlenecks, making it impossible to achieve either goal effectively.

Thus, a port city that served both military and civilian purposes essentially meant having separate, well-equipped military and civilian ports. This was true for Brest in Franquia and now for Plymouth, where the group had just disembarked.

After disembarking, the group headed to the church in Plymouth. As always, they planned to borrow rooms in the dormitory attached to the church. Since the ship to Strabenher, the central city of the lowlands, was set to depart in three days, they would need to stay in Plymouth for that time.

On their way to the church, the group passed through several interconnected squares. These plaza-like parks were so closely linked that they felt like one massive public space.

Upon arriving at the Plymouth church, the group began planning their three-day stay before their departure. However, as always, plans were subject to change based on shifting circumstances.

“What on earth is this…?” Hildegard’s face turned perplexed as she looked out the window at the fierce wind, heavy rain, flashes of lightning, and the ensuing thunder. After staring blankly for a while, she asked a young subdeacon who had come to clean the room, “Is the weather always like this here?”

The subdeacon looked at her as if she had said something absurd and replied, “Of course not! I may be young, but I’ve never seen such a sudden downpour in my life.”

Indeed, the intensity of the rain was overwhelming. It poured as if someone were dumping buckets of water, and though it stopped within half a day, the damage caused by the brief but intense storm was undeniable.

“Good heavens… it’s completely flooded,” someone muttered.

“Is that a road or a canal? It looks like quite a few areas are submerged,” another added.

Hildegard and Esiocles were speechless as they surveyed the aftermath.

“The local livelihoods are going to be in trouble for a while.”

“Aside from the merchants’ property damage, the farming households are the real issue. If they’re not prepared, this could ruin the entire year’s harvest, leading to a severe famine.”

“And then there’s the risk of plague. With such heavy rain, waterborne diseases are bound to spread easily.”

If both plague and famine struck simultaneously… the image of a hellish southern Caledonia flashed through Sophia’s mind.

“It’s no use worrying about it. Ultimately, it’s up to the local rulers and parish leaders to deal with this, not us, who are just passing through. Though, I suppose we could still try to help in some small way during our short stay…”

As Sophia spoke, her gaze briefly fell on Conra.

“If the Druids of Erin step in to help, it would certainly make a difference. Cleaning up after the flood would be much easier.”

“Indeed, Druids are specialized in communicating with plants and animals…!”

“Well, if anyone’s going to act, they’ve probably already started. It’s not really our place to intervene.”

Even as she said this, Sophia couldn’t shake a different thought from her mind.

“Originally, this region wasn’t known for such extreme climate changes. This sudden downpour feels… unnatural.”

She couldn’t help but suspect some kind of human intervention. Given their past experiences, it seemed likely that something was about to happen at this stop as well. Sophia felt the need to keep a close eye on the situation.

Meanwhile, news from the port forced the group to extend their stay in Plymouth. The morning’s storm and heavy rain had damaged several port facilities and ships, requiring inspections. Fortunately, the regular ship to Strabenher, which the group was scheduled to board, hadn’t sustained major damage, so the inspection and repairs wouldn’t take too long.

In the end, the group decided to extend their stay from three days to seven.

Faced with the sudden extension, the group had no choice but to revise their plans. Otherwise, they’d be wasting the extra four days, and none of them were accustomed to idling away time.

It was in this context that Esiocles decided to visit a nearby Dominican monastery. After receiving permission through a pre-arranged messenger, he announced to the group that he would visit the monastery early the next morning.

“Hmm, the monastery here is likely affiliated with the Dominican Order, right? But aren’t you part of the Ignatian Order?” Sophia asked.

“That’s correct.”

“Is there another reason for visiting a monastery of a different order?”

“Precisely because I’m part of the Ignatian Order.”

Esiocles explained that the Dominican and Ignatian Orders had long been rivals in the preservation and study of knowledge, as well as in the interpretation of church doctrine, each holding a position as one of the two great intellectual pillars of the Church.

Despite their commonalities, the two orders differed significantly in their approaches to scholarship and practice. The essence of these differences lay in the Dominican “contemplative practice” and the Ignatian “spiritual practice.”

While contemplative practice sought universal knowledge and truth, spiritual practice emphasized personal experience and insight. These fundamental differences made it all the more important for the two orders to maintain exchanges.

Intellectual pursuits, if too one-sided, could narrow one’s perspective and hinder the understanding of reality. Thus, it was only natural for monks to guard against this by engaging with the other order.

Monks deemed sufficiently advanced in their practice would often visit the other order to foster exchange. These interactions deepened the intellectual and spiritual assets of both orders while helping individual monks refine their insights, avoid narrow-mindedness, and broaden their worldview.

“Since the opportunity has arisen, I don’t want to miss it,” Esiocles said.

“Well, how you spend your time is up to you. I won’t interfere. Go ahead and enjoy your visit.”

“Thank you.”

Just as the conversation seemed to be ending, Hildegard chimed in.

“Wait a minute. Can I come along?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Esiocles frowned, looking as if he’d been hit with an unexpected question.

“Well, you see, the Dominican monastery in Plymouth is famous for producing Plymouth gin.”

“That’s true, but…”

Monasteries often engaged in farming or ran workshops to support themselves and fund their operations, so Esiocles nodded in agreement. However, knowing Hildegard’s reputation as a heavy drinker, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy when she brought up the monastery’s medicinal distilled spirits.

“I’ve always wanted to visit. The charm of Plymouth gin is truly unique and excellent. Of course, I enjoy fine spirits like whiskey and brandy, but there’s something special about the flavor of lower-end liquors like rum and gin.”

Esiocles couldn’t hide his distaste for Hildegard’s motives.

“I have no intention of bringing a drunkard into a monastery that values purity. Besides, aren’t you a nun knight? How can you even think of entering a monastery, which should be off-limits to women?”

Despite Esiocles’ clear discomfort, Hildegard smiled and countered.

“I’m not interested in the practice spaces; I want to see the distillery. Besides, as far as I know, there’s no rule in the monastic or nun orders that explicitly forbids hosting guests of the opposite sex, is there?”

“Ugh…”

Unable to come up with a counterargument, Esiocles furrowed his brow in frustration. Reluctantly, he nodded.

“Fine. If you’re not planning to disrupt the monastery’s atmosphere, I suppose I have no reason to stop you.”

“Hey, I didn’t expect to hear that from you, Father…”

Hildegard’s expression soured as she was lectured on propriety by someone she considered a walking scandal.

The next morning, Esiocles and Hildegard set off for the monastery perched on a hillside outside Plymouth.

 

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