A response to Mim's open prompt of "treasured possessions"
[A Monk`s Possessions]
“‘One who multiplies riches multiplies troubles’, the proverb says, and it speaks truly: therefore, the Vigiliant monk must not be burdened by fripperies. Each shall own no more than a soldier could carry. The Monastery shall hold all other goods and assets in common.”
-The Rule of Pickham Monastery
There is much to respect in the Rules of Pickham, but Brother Martin felt that the rule on possessions was in many ways the smartest of all. It had depth and subtlety to it, and made a Brother think. What is vital, what is useful, and what is desirable? It was certainly a counter to some of the more unprosperous naga problems. The monastery would of course provide everything that was needed for life and service. Simple robes, a room and food, education in the Way. That was why he’d come to here in the first place. But that which the monastery provided was not his. His things were earned from his small wage as a scribe, from his business in pamphlets and from the contributions made by grateful Beaters or Threshers. Such little things as a stash of tea (the kettle was the Monastery’s of course), more comfortable clothing, or his own small library.
What it supposedly came down to was “a couple of boxes, a large haversack, plus arms and armour if you use it”. What it was in reality was more of a game. An exercise in Wisdom, to ask the right question. Such as “Cellerar, have we considered Mint in the herb garden, it does tend to ward off bugs”. Or “We have that fabric spare, and all those offcuts for stuffing. The library seats could use cushions, it would stop the novices fidgeting so as they read”. Of course, these items were the monastery’s, not Martin’s. They were what he desired, but were shared with and available to all. Prosperity in action.
“‘Bread without spice is better than spice without bread’, the proverb says, and it speaks truly: to further the Prosperity of your communion, and of the Empire at large, refrain from idle display of wealth.”
-The Rule of Pickham Monastery
Again, this was a game and a challenge. Like the exhortation against idle gossip at the table, it made you think about what meaning you ascribed to your choices. Idle wealth is the curse of misers and the downfall of Leaguers and Freeborn. The sort who’d wear wear an ill-fitting robe purely to display the silks it was made of. So Martin wore luxuries with purpose. A pewter crest of the Stag, such as most monks here wore. A tailored under-robe with Ophis for Vigiliance on the collar. A heavy pewter chain of the style that aldermen and Stewards favoured, as an indication of the Synod’s power. These were his nice things, his statements of authority, his armour against fools who saw no style in Marcher clothing and no beauty in simplicity.
The tools of violence were his own as well, though he used them rarely enough. Martin disliked the idea of betting his life on anything he wasn’t personally responsible for. One... falchion, he supposed. A short, heavy sword lacking a guard and with a bit more recurve in the blade than was usual. As good for hacking the limbs of bushes as it was for people, and useful on the road in pursuit of Sorcery. It irked him that he could never recall where he got the thing. The buckler he’d picked up off a Steinr smith who’d been travelling with a raiding band out after Jotun. A suit of mithril and steel, light and easy to strip out of for magic.
So the Monastery guarded the greater part of the things Brother Martin used, and he himself the lesser. The collection of ritual paraphanalia was Pickham’s, though Martin curated it. The Monastery’s wine, in the Brother’s mug. He felt there was a lesson there too, about the whole being more than the parts. Although that might be the Night talking, making him see connections in all things. Martin sipped his wine and worked on his writings, grateful that the Monastery provided good glowstones. Powerful work from the high peaks was quite an expense for one person.