Chapter 14 : The Poorhouse

If the western part of Ark Town was the commercial district, then the southwestern corner could only be described as the true slums.

The environment here was atrocious, and the public safety even worse.

There weren’t even oil lamps along the roadside—just stretches of darkness.

In the short distance Li Wen had walked, no fewer than three people had attempted to rob or steal from her.

To avoid further trouble, she’d resorted to breaking one of their arms—just enough to serve as a warning.

Sure enough, no one else dared to approach her after that.

Ark Town wasn’t large, so it wasn’t hard to locate a building that matched the image of a poorhouse.

What actually slowed her down was the maze-like layout of the slum’s winding roads and densely packed buildings, which forced her to loop around a few times before she reached her destination.

It was a three-story structure built from deep red bricks, standing out starkly against the ramshackle surroundings.

The poorhouse had already closed for the day, and only a warm light flickered behind a few of its windows.

Li Wen knocked on the door.

She waited a long while before a muffled voice came from inside.

“The poorhouse is closed. If you’re here for a handout, come back earlier tomorrow.”

“I’m looking for someone. Is Mr. Sam here?” she replied.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and a stout, bald man poked his head out.

“Looking for old Sam, huh?”

The man gave Li Wen a once-over.

“Can’t say I remember that old coot having any family… Well, come in then.”

Li Wen followed him inside.

The interior of the poorhouse was surprisingly spacious.

While it wouldn’t be described as comfortable, at least it was clean and tidy—a modest warmth that might offer the homeless some semblance of home.

What caught Li Wen’s attention, however, was the decor: traces of church design elements were everywhere.

“Was this place built by the church?” she asked.

The bald man ahead of her, broad-faced and lumbering, was a rare sight in a rural place like Ark Town.

“Yeah, the Holy Church funded the construction. It’s managed by Pastor Mog on a daily basis—he handles the funds and all that. Say, you know Pastor Mog?”

Li Wen didn’t answer that. Instead, she asked another question.

“Who usually gets assistance here?”

“Mostly homeless folks—kids abandoned by their parents, elderly with no one to care for them, or those with serious illnesses who can’t support themselves anymore.”

“We also take in beggars and the destitute, as long as they’re willing to help out with labor… Why do you ask?”

The bald man rattled off his list, then paused as he remembered Li Wen had come to see someone.

“Just curious,” Li Wen said simply, ending the conversation.

The man led her up to the third floor and pointed toward a room in the farthest corner.

“That’s where old Sam lives. If you want to talk to him, just knock. I’ve got work to get back to—if you need anything, just call me down on the first floor.”

Li Wen waited until the man had lumbered back downstairs before stepping up to the door and knocking gently.

A moment passed before the door creaked open a sliver, and the occupant peered through the narrow gap.

“Who are you?”

Old Sam’s voice was hoarse and dry, as though he hadn’t had water in days.

“Pastor Mog sent me,” Li Wen replied concisely.

The moment he heard the name “Mog,” Sam’s demeanor shifted.

He opened the door wider to let her in, though his wary expression made it clear he wasn’t about to trust her that easily.

“Why’d he send you? I’m just a useless old man. I’ve got nothing.”

Li Wen didn’t rush to respond.

She took in the room and its occupant.

The space was so bare it couldn’t even support rats—just as Sam had said, he had “nothing.”

As for the man himself, he was the very image of a stereotypical Duvian: short in stature, sallow-skinned, wrinkled, and smeared with strange pigments on his face and arms that looked like tribal markings.

“You make potions?” she asked.

The faint scent of bitter herbs had caught her attention as soon as she stepped inside.

She also noticed traces of sulfur and plant sap under the man’s fingernails.

Sam’s expression immediately turned guarded.

He pressed his lips into a tight line, clearly calculating how to make her leave.

“No need to deny it,” Li Wen continued.

“I’ve dabbled in alchemy myself—I can recognize the signs.”

“When I was young, the elders in my clan taught me some basic grinding and mixing of herbs. Nothing worth mentioning,” Sam muttered.

“I’m in need of certain ritual materials. Pastor Mog said you might have what I’m looking for.”

Sam didn’t reply.

Instead, he shuffled to his bed and strained to push it aside.

Then he pried open a wooden plank beneath it, revealing a hidden compartment.

Inside were various crude tools—grinders, filters, crucibles—and plenty of bottles and jars.

Given that the Kingdom of Arthurian strictly forbade civilian use of alchemy, it was no wonder Sam had taken such precautions.

He pulled out a half-filled leather satchel from the compartment and began stuffing it with more jars and bottles before handing it over to Li Wen.

“This is everything I have. If it’s not enough, there’s nothing more I can do.”

Li Wen flipped open the pack.

Her experience told her that while the materials weren’t particularly comprehensive, they were enough for her current needs.

“It’s sufficient,” she said.

Then, calculating based on her knowledge of black market prices from her previous life, she took out two gold pounds and five shillings and offered them to Sam.

Sam shook his head.

“If you were sent by Lord Mog, I can’t take your money.”

“This has nothing to do with him,” Li Wen replied.

“It has everything to do with me.”

Li Wen couldn’t be bothered to argue.

She placed the money down and turned to leave.

Sam, too old to catch up with her, could only stare helplessly as her figure vanished down the hallway.

When Li Wen returned to the nuns’ dormitory, she found Luna standing outside her room.

“Were you looking for me?”

The young nun jumped in surprise, then let out a relieved sigh when she saw it was Li Wen.

“I roasted some potatoes and lamb… Thought you might want to try some.”

She shook the small basket in her hand.

Ah, so that was it.

Li Wen nodded.

“Thanks. I haven’t eaten yet.”

She took the basket and was about to send Luna on her way, but upon seeing the expectant look on the girl’s face, she sighed inwardly.

“If you don’t mind, we can eat together.”

The nun beamed with joy.

She wasn’t really interested in eating together—she simply wanted to know what Li Wen thought of her cooking.

“It’s quite good.”

After taking a bite, Li Wen offered her assessment without hesitation.

“Really? Pastor Mog said the same, but I still think there’s room for improvement.”

Luna’s cheeks flushed red, clearly unaccustomed to praise.

“What kind of person do you think Mog is?”

Li Wen suddenly asked.

“Pastor Mog?”

Luna blinked in confusion.

“He… He’s a good man, I think. Always kind and gentle to everyone, always ready to help. He listens patiently when the congregation has concerns and teaches me so many things… Everyone in town likes him.”

“I see.”

Li Wen said nothing more.

She couldn’t help but wonder—if the young nun ever learned the truth, what kind of expression would she wear then?