Pietro stared at the sheet of parchment in confusion. He could not read.
"I don't understand any of this…"
"Antonio, read it to him," Giovanni instructed as he sat down.
Antonio picked up the contract and began to read. He did not read the dense legal language written on the page. Instead, he recited the "translated version" Giovanni had taught him.
"Pietro, listen carefully," he began.
"First, in recognition of your devotion to the Lord, the monastery has decided to provide you with one hundred high-quality olive saplings free of charge. These saplings were brought from the south and are very valuable."
Free.
Pietro's eyes lit up.
"Second, the monastery will also provide all tools and fertilizer needed for planting. Also free."
Still free.
"Third, and most important." Antonio paused deliberately. "For the first three years of planting, while the trees are not yet bearing fruit, the monastery will waive all land rent."
No rent.
Pietro had been a tenant farmer his entire life. His greatest fear had always been rent. No matter how poor the harvest was, half of it went to the landlord.
And now, no rent at all?
"Is… is this really true?" Pietro asked, hardly daring to believe his ears.
"Of course it's true," Giovanni replied with a gentle smile. "Why would I lie to you?"
"Not only that, but once your trees bear fruit, the monastery will buy all your olives. Every single one. As many as you have. None will rot on the ground."
Pietro felt as though he were dreaming.
Free saplings. Free fertilizer. No rent. Guaranteed purchase.
Did such a good thing truly exist in this world?
The resentment he had felt when cutting down the wheat vanished in an instant.
"Abbot, you are truly a saint!" he exclaimed, about to kneel again.
"Since you agree, then sign it." Giovanni slid the parchment toward him. "You can't write, so just press your fingerprint."
Antonio handed over the red ink paste at just the right moment.
Pietro looked at the parchment. Under the dim candlelight, the dense Latin words looked like a giant trap. But he could not see the trap. All he heard were the words "free" and "no rent."
He stretched out his thumb, the same thumb that had swung a hoe in the fields not long ago, still dirty and blistered with blood. He pressed it firmly into the ink.
Then, trembling slightly, he pressed it onto the lower right corner of the parchment.
A bright red fingerprint bloomed on the page.
"Good." Giovanni's smile widened as he looked at it.
He picked up the contract and gently blew on the ink to dry it.
"Pietro, from today on, you are no longer a poor man who grows wheat. You are a… partner of the St. Lucia Monastery."
Pietro left with the bag of "advanced" black bread Antonio handed him, bowing and thanking them again and again. His steps were light as he walked away.
He felt like he was about to become rich.
* * *
Late at night, after Pietro had left, only Giovanni, Antonio, and Philip remained in the room.
The smile faded from Giovanni's face. He tapped the newly signed contract lightly with his finger.
"Philip," he said softly, "tell me. What are the most important clauses in this contract?"
Philip pushed up his glasses and opened his notebook.
"Abbot, according to your instructions, there are three key clauses."
"First, the 'exclusive purchase right.' The contract states that all olives Pietro grows can only be sold to the monastery. If he sells them privately, he must pay ten times the value as a penalty. This gives us full control of the sales channel."
Giovanni nodded, satisfied. "And the second?"
"Second, the 'pricing right.' The contract says the olives will be 'purchased at market price,' but there is a small note below it. 'The market price shall be determined by the monastery based on surrounding regions.' In other words, we decide the price."
Giovanni nodded again. "And the third?"
"The third is the 'deferred sapling cost' clause," Philip continued. "Although we say the saplings are free, the contract records their cost as an 'interest-free loan.' Once the trees bear fruit, the cost is deducted year by year from the purchase payments."
"And if the trees die before the cost is fully deducted, or if Pietro stops planting, he must repay the full amount at once."
Antonio stood there, stunned. He had helped carry out the orders, but he had never understood the trick behind them.
"Abbot," he asked hesitantly, "if there's no interest, isn't he still making money?"
Giovanni looked at him the way a teacher looks at a slow student and explained patiently.
"Antonio, olive trees take at least five years to reach full production. For those five years, he pays no rent, but he also earns nothing. What does he eat? What does he drink?"
"He survives only on grain borrowed from the monastery. During that time, if he leaves us, his family dies. And once the trees bear fruit, I control the price."
"If olive oil sells for ten gold coins, I buy his olives for two. Then I deduct the sapling debt, and the grain he borrowed over the years."
"Tell me, how much do you think he has left?"
Antonio thought about it. Cold sweat ran down his back.
"Nothing left… maybe he still owes money."
"Exactly," Giovanni confirmed. "He will never finish paying."
"As long as he owes me, he will never dare leave that land. His children, and his children's children, will plant trees just to repay debt."
"The old rent used to take half his harvest. Half, at least, remained his own. But this contract takes the man himself."
"I don't need rent. Once I control the saplings, the purchase, the presses, and the drying houses, I control everything."
"Pietro thinks he gained something. In truth, the moment he pressed his fingerprint, he was already dead."
"Or rather," Giovanni added calmly, "a living tool that can still speak."
The room fell silent.
Antonio and Philip looked at Giovanni with awe. They had seen landlords control farmers with whips and deeds. Their abbot controlled them with parchment and words.
This was real power.
* * *
By the time Pietro returned home, it was already deep into the night. His family was still awake, sitting in the dark house, worried and silent.
When they saw him come back carrying a bag of black bread, their eyes lit up.
Pietro slammed the bread onto the table. "Eat! All of you! Eat!"
He excitedly told them about the monastery's blessing, embellishing it with a few extra praises of his own.
His wife stared at him in disbelief. "Really… no rent at all?"
"Of course it's real! The abbot said it himself! I even pressed my fingerprint!"
That night, lying in bed with his whole body aching, Pietro felt satisfied. In his dream, olive trees grew from the bare yellow land, each one heavy with gold coins.
* * *
Over the next half month, all the wheat on monastery-controlled land was cut down.
Tenant farmers lined up before Philip's desk, pressing one red fingerprint after another. Most could not read. They only heard "no rent," and happily signed the parchment called "mutual cooperation," which was, in truth, a contract of servitude.
The monastery warehouses opened wide. Cart after cart of olive saplings, bundles of sage and thyme seeds, were sent to the fields.
Laughter drifted from the farmhouses. Men shouted loudly in the fields, as if endless gold lay buried beneath the poor soil.
Giovanni stood on the second-floor terrace of the estate, a glass of wine in his hand, looking down at the farmers below, busy like ants.
Sunlight fell across his face, but it could not reach his deep blue eyes.
**
**
**
Thank you for reading! If you'd like access to extra chapters and want to support my work, you can visit my P@treon:
P@treon/SilverShark769
Vote with Power Stones for Bonus Chapters!
Your support means a lot, thank you!