Mount & Blade: Rebuilding Rome from Mercenaries

"I never expected to meet you here, our respected Mr. Isaac ben Kesef."

Old John looked at the person in front of him with amusement.

He knew that face all too well.

It was he who, with a beaming smile, pushed the bag of gold coins toward old Tancredi and wrote the loan agreement in Hebrew on two pieces of parchment.

Yes, this Mr. Isaac was the Jewish businessman who had previously lent money to old Tancred.

In those days, Jews did not commonly use fixed family surnames; they usually placed "Ben + Father's Name" after their given name to distinguish their status. However, "Kaiser" means "silver" in Hebrew, and old John found this coincidence utterly ridiculous every time he thought about it.

"Oh, old John! And... little Tancred, right? He looks just like your father." Mr. Isaac squinted for a long time before finally showing a look of realization.

He was being supported by two mercenaries, one on each side. His once fine cotton robe was now covered in mud and bits of grass, but that didn't stop him from sticking his back straight and forcing an awkward smile.

"God's arrangements are truly wondrous! I remember you still owe me three hundred gold coins, don't you? Would you believe me if I told you I was also a poor soul kidnapped here by these damned bandits?"

His Norman French was halting, but he pronounced the word "three hundred" with exceptional clarity and precision.

Tankred sneered inwardly. This cunning old fox had been bargaining from the very first sentence he uttered!

Previously, the debt had ballooned to 500 gold coins with interest, but now, seeing the situation was turning bad, the interest was automatically wiped out.

Tankred, of course, wouldn't let him off easily.

With this leverage in hand, we must make this greedy loan shark bleed out of him today!

“Mr. Isaac, don’t treat us like fools,” Tancred stepped forward, his gaze calmly meeting the other man’s gleaming eyes. “These valuables are clearly from the Vatican. Who else but you, a Vatican-certified moneylender, could acquire so much?”

The Jewish merchant's facial muscles twitched slightly, then immediately replaced with an arrogant expression:

"Young people shouldn't say things carelessly!"

"I, Isaac, by the grace of the Roman Apostolic Church, am the righteous man appointed by St. Peter. What I do is to provide a vessel for the lost sheep in the troubles of the world to cross over their difficulties."

"Your baseless and ignorant malicious speculation is not only an insult to me, but also a questioning of the Holy See that bestowed this glory!"

"The archbishops of the Roman Cardinals are far superior to you; I can chat and laugh with them without any problems. Why let these minor misunderstandings over papal goods cause everyone unpleasantness?"

"How about this, you let me go, return these goods to me, and I'll forgive half of the debt your father owes me. That's fair, isn't it?"

Isaac was right. Although they were caught red-handed, Tancred did not have any direct evidence. Moreover, the old fox's words implied connections between himself and the Papacy and the bishops, making the still weak Tancred quite wary.

"I still need to improve my strength quickly, otherwise even a small loan shark will dare to bully me!" Tankred clenched his fists angrily upon hearing this.

Just when he was at his wit's end, Bashir suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"Sir! I think you should take a look at this. I found it in the crevice where he was hiding!" He approached Tankred mysteriously and handed him a sheepskin notebook covered in dirt.

Tancred took the notebook and casually flipped through it, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the Jewish man's eyes were noticeably more flustered.

The rolls of parchment were covered with numerous entries, and the random switching between multiple languages ​​was dazzling.

However, Tankred's 14 points of knowledge are not just for show!

With Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and even some scattered Germanic annotations, he immediately realized that this was Isaac's unscrupulous merchant's ledger!

Who says learning a foreign language is useless?

Learning foreign languages ​​is great, I should learn more!

His gaze swept over the lines of text, and a cold smile slowly crept onto his lips.

"Your ledger is quite interesting, Mr. Isaac!"

"Who would have thought that our righteous Mr. Isaac, besides his main profession of moneylender, also had a hobby of disposing of stolen goods?"

"I'm just curious, why are all the 'origin of goods' labels listed as belonging to churches and monasteries in Rome?"

"You, a Jew, stole from the Vatican and even helped dispose of the stolen goods! Tell me, if I were to hand you, along with this ledger, over to those cardinals who once chatted and laughed with you, wouldn't you become the brightest pile of firewood in front of St. Peter's Basilica?"

Tancred patted the cover of the ledger with his right hand, and the fisherman's ring he had secretly put on gleamed in the rising sun.

Isaac broke out in a cold sweat, especially when he saw the ring on Tancred's right hand, and a Hebrew swear word slipped out. Although he immediately realized his mistake and quickly shut his mouth, the words still reached Tancred's ears.

Tankred was deeply shocked, but on the surface he pretended to be nonchalant, leisurely closed the notebook, and gently patted it in his other palm.

Isaac's previous arrogance vanished completely. His Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he finally forced out a voice through clenched teeth: "You actually understood it? Fine, I admit defeat! Let me go, give me back the goods, and all your father's debts will be forgiven!"

Tancred put the ring back and simply stared at him calmly.

After a long silence, Isaac's shoulders slumped completely.

"Fine, you win, but I have to take all the Vatican supplies with me to report to my 'employer'! As for the rest of the junk, take as much as you want."

"This is the most I can offer! Trust me, don't offend my employer, or you'll be in big trouble!"

Old John wanted to haggle, but Tancred gave him a look, so Old John had no choice but to retreat dejectedly.

The deal was quickly struck, and the two parchment sheets recording Tancred's debt contract were burned to ashes in the campfire. The merchant Isaac also vanished hastily to find his servants to move the Papacy's goods.

The system's text did not appear after the connection was established. Tancred stared thoughtfully at Isaac as he walked away.

Once the Jew had completely disappeared from sight, old John immediately moved closer to Tancredi and asked in a low, urgent voice:

"Little Tank Red, why did you wink at me and stop me? This is way less profit than the plan we agreed on!"

"We finally caught him with such a huge weakness, and we're just going to let him go so easily? He took all those most valuable treasures!"

"Uncle John, do you know what his last curse in Hebrew meant?"

"What is it?"

Tancred glanced around warily, making sure no one was watching, before leaning close to old John's ear and whispering:

He was cursing—

"Gross of Giscard!"