After a few rounds of haggling, the head of the Guild of Cooks agreed to purchase the Queen's Bread recipe and honey from Mike Bai for the equivalent of 500 golden florins.
As Mike Bai's purse swelled, he remained silent outwardly, but inside, he was grinning from ear to ear, feeling that he was one step closer to his decadent life as a noble.
The guildmaster saw him out the door, and with his spirits lifted, Mike Bai wandered the streets.
As he passed a weapon shop, something caught his eye.
"If it's that one, then maybe my little arms and legs can handle it," Mike Bai thought, stroking his chin before walking in.
"Good day, sir," the shopkeeper greeted, tipping his green hat and bowing in a well-practiced manner. Dressed in a red vest, he looked every bit the part of a well-to-do merchant.
In a good mood, Mike Bai smiled and said, "I've heard that Venetian merchants are the best at business. Now, I see it for myself."
"Indeed, sir, the barren land of Venice produces little, so we rely on small trades to get by," the shopkeeper replied, bowing respectfully. "Although this shop is humble, you will not find a better, more complete collection anywhere else."
Mike Bai couldn't help but chuckle, amused by the shopkeeper's boastful words.
"If you don't believe me, tell me what you need," the shopkeeper continued. "If it's not here, you won't find it anywhere in all of Veneto."
Mike Bai pulled out his "sewing needle" sword and handed it to the shopkeeper.
"Find me a better one than this."
The shopkeeper took the sword, drawing it out and inspecting the blade closely.
"Ah, more than ten folds of forging, light yet durable," the shopkeeper said, flicking the blade with his finger, producing a crisp ringing sound. "Three rounds of tempering, and the edge is steel-wrapped."
He paused, then added with a sneer, "It's obvious this came from those naïve craftsmen in Nuremberg."
Mike Bai was taken aback. He had just paid 48 silver denarii for this sword, and now the shopkeeper was dismissing it as worthless.
"What would you call a good sword, then?" Mike Bai asked, frustration rising.
The shopkeeper turned, took two swords from the wall, and handed one to Mike Bai.
"If you're a nobleman like yourself, using it for aesthetics and dueling, this swift blade is more suited to you."
Mike Bai took the sword, feeling its light weight. It was narrower than his "sewing needle," only about one and a half fingers wide, but the spine was thicker, and it featured a round guard instead of the typical cross-shaped hilt.
"Since the width of the blade makes it unsuitable for blocking, why not focus entirely on offense?" the shopkeeper continued. "The thick spine makes it sturdy and stable, and the round guard protects your hand during thrusts."
"However, if you need a sword for the battlefield, this one would suit you better." The shopkeeper handed Mike Bai another sword. It was thin at the tip, about one finger wide, but widened to three fingers at the base, its shape almost like a sharp triangle.
"This sword retains the ability to pierce armor, but the widened blade allows for better slashing and blocking."
The shopkeeper, swelling with pride, continued, "I'm not trying to disparage them, but the ignorant methods of those Nuremberg craftsmen will never work! Our swords are the finest."
Mike Bai nodded absently, still distracted by something else in the corner of the shop. He pointed at a crossbow.
"What about that one?"
The shopkeeper's face darkened slightly as he pulled the crossbow down from the wall.
"If you're looking for something from Genoa, I suppose this is the only thing worth mentioning."
The crossbow was about one meter long, with a foot peg at the front and arms that were about 40 centimeters long. The string was almost one finger thick. Mike Bai pulled on it but couldn't budge the string.
The shopkeeper set the crossbow against his waist, took out a strange lever, and hooked it onto a slot on the crossbow. With a quick pull, the string was easily drawn back and set in place.
"Using this lever, you can easily string the crossbow," the shopkeeper explained, attaching a bolt and handing it to Mike Bai.
Mike Bai raised the crossbow and aimed at a target on the opposite wall.
The string released with a sharp snap, and the bolt flew through the air with tremendous force. It pierced through the iron ring of the target and buried itself halfway into the wood, the tail feathers still vibrating with the impact.
"See? Even an untrained farmer could easily take down a heavy cavalryman with this," the shopkeeper said, beaming. "And right now, it's only 50 silver denarii. You even get the stringing lever and 20 bolts included. Would you like to buy a few to arm your servants?"
After a brief hesitation, Mike Bai decided to buy the crossbow and 50 bolts.
As he continued to wander the streets, he noticed Baron Otto and Demore leaving the inn, riding toward a nearby monastery.
The monastery was heavily fortified, with thick stone walls and four shooting towers at each corner. The main building had only a spire topped with a cross, and soldiers wearing white tunics with red crosses patrolled the grounds. It was less of a monastery and more of a fortress.
The two men dismounted at the entrance, and Demore approached to hand over a letter.
"Please deliver this to Sir Jean Le Goff, the Grand Knight," he said.
The soldier took the letter and entered the building. After a brief moment, he returned and motioned for the two to follow him inside.
They passed through the heavy gate and a bustling training ground before arriving at an office.
The soldier knocked on the door, and after receiving permission, ushered them inside.
Baron Otto pushed the door open first.
A knight wearing a white tunic with a red cross, sitting behind a desk, was reading the letter they had sent earlier. He looked up, gesturing for them to sit.
"Thank you for your contribution to the Lord's cause," Sir Jean Le Goff said, placing the letter down and fixing his gaze on Baron Otto. "The Archbishop of Mainz mentioned in his letter that you wish to pilgrimage to the Holy Land and join the Knights Templar to atone for your sins. May I ask what sin you wish to atone for, that you would abandon your noble life and join our ranks?"
There was a long silence before Otto, looking Le Goff in the eye, finally spoke.
"My wife, Eve, could not bear the death of our son and chose to end her own life."
"I cannot fathom the Lord's will, but I trust that He will show mercy to all men and grant us the opportunity for redemption," Le Goff said solemnly, making the sign of the cross.
Otto returned the gesture, his expression serious.
"Do you understand that once you join us, unless your service is complete or the Grand Master grants you a pardon, you will serve in the Templar Order? You will live in humble devotion, dedicate yourself to the Lord's work, wield the sword in His name, and protect the innocent from the heretics' persecution until the Lord calls you home."
Le Goff's gaze was intense, as though trying to see into Otto's very soul.
"I understand," Otto replied gravely. "I long to pray at the foot of the cross in the Holy Land and seek forgiveness for our sins."
"And do you also understand that your worldly possessions will mean nothing to you in this life? We will live in poverty and take vows of chastity."
"I accept it willingly," Otto said, his voice unwavering.
"Then," Le Goff rose from his chair, "welcome to our Order, brother in Christ."
"Your initiation will be held by the Grand Master in the Holy Land. Ten days from now, a Venetian merchant fleet will depart. They will first stop in Constantinople, then proceed to St. Acre. You may travel with them and continue by land from there."