I Became The Pope, Now What?

Five days ago.

After Sylvester went to do his meditation, Grandpa Monk got busy making his non-alcoholic but effective sunshine nectar, as it was his best pass time with his adopted son, the current Pope.

Even the Pope nowadays came to help him in the evening, and like two mad muscular men with exposed torsos, they brewed it in the open.

Bam!

“Old man, let’s go and brew your sunshine nectar! Tonight, we shall finish the final recipe!” The Pope entered the little shack of the Grandpa Monk by kicking the door.

It was enough to scare the old man inside and hold on to everything, fearing it would all fall apart. “Axel, you silly child! My little home can be blown away by your single sneeze! Do not kick the door.”

The Pope, turning into a kid when with his adoptive father, acted silly. “It’s just a shack. I can make you a nice stone castle here if you want. I will enchant it myself with all luxuries. What do you say?”

Grandpa Monk ignored it. “No need, you stay in your pompous palaces. I quite like nature… Ah! By that, I remembered the little Bard is here; he went to meditate early in the morning. Did he go back?”

“Sylvester is here? Interesting, let’s go and see.” The Pope suggested.

So, the two men searched around and soon found Sylvester sitting on a thick branch with a bright golden halo behind the head. He was cross-legged, his palms were on his lap, and he appeared so calm that one would think he was dead.

“He’s in a trance,” The Pope commented as they watched him shine in the darkness of the night.

Grandpa Monk knelt beside Sylvester and nodded after looking at his face, particularly the moving eyeballs under the eyelids. “He’s seeing a deep vision, it seems… truly a miracle child. Who knows where his destiny will take him–I hope it’s the right path. There is no saying when he will wake up, however. Should we stay here?”

The Pope shook his head since the place was extremely safe. “No need. We shall focus on brewing. I will call his aide to keep an eye instead.”

Saying that, the Pope stared at Sylvester with a mysterious gaze. He knew about Sylvester’s visions, but even he could not help but wonder what it was that Sylvester was seeing. Was it related to him? The church?

‘No! I can’t let these thoughts corrupt me… for this paranoia is the first step to insanity.’ The Pope looked away and returned to the shack with the old man. Then he called a guard and sent him to find Sir Dolorem.

…

Sir Dolorem was called in the middle of the night and was informed that there was an emergency. He was not told anything and was just thrown onto a boat and taken to the Soul Peninsula. He was honestly a bit on edge, as any man would be after being awoken so abruptly. .𝘯𝘵

But, he kept calm and followed the instructions. He was a little man and had been on the peninsula only once, as he was not allowed anytime else.

As his boat reached the shore, he was overwhelmed by the number of guards. Even the lowest-ranked guards were higher-level wizards or knights than him. Soon his whole palm print was taken on a shining orb, and then his eyes were scanned with that same orb. He didn’t know what strange magical artifact it was and didn’t dare question it.

After that, the overly-dressed and formal guards led him straight towards the little hut near the Soul Tree. And to his shock, he saw madness–a scene so bizarre that he had to pinch himself until he bled to ensure it was no dream.

There, he noticed the Pope and the Fifth Guardian, topless, sweating, boiling something on a furnace in a large container. It smelled like a mix of herbs and a strange nose-tingling solid smell.

‘What’s happening here? Did I offend them?’ He wondered.

But, all that doubt went out of his mind as the Pope looked at him. In an instant, he was on his knees and greeting. “I pay respect to the respected His Holiness, Supreme Pontiff.”

He was an average man. He does not get the privilege to meet a man like the Pope so often. At most, he can see him from afar. The only reason he does not get overwhelmed by Lord Inquisitor’s aura was that he became an Inquisitor under that man’s training. He had been an assistant to high-ranking Inquisitors from the start.

Meeting any other Guardian or such men was overwhelming, for they represented the best and the strongest the church had to offer.

“How may I be of use, Supreme Pontiff?” He asked, not looking at the face.

But, the Pope seemed to be in an excited mood as he shooed the guards away and pulled Sir Dolorem close. Then made him stand, sandwiched between himself and Grandpa Monk. Both old fogies were six foot five or six, so they towered over the average Sir Dolorem.

The bald wizard-knight was sweating more from the pressure of being between there than the heat from the furnace.

“Here, take a sip, young soldier. It ought to rejuvenate you.” Grandpa Monk passed a glass full of liquid from the pot.

Now, Sir Dolorem’s duty was to drink it. So he didn’t waste a moment and gulped it all down in one go. “Ah… my the-”

Bam!

And there he went, falling on his back like a wooden log, straight to dreamlands. This did frighten the two mad old men, however.

The Pope quickly checked. “Good Solis, he’s alive! Let’s put him in the shed.”

Grandpa Monk sighed. “Young generations can’t even handle some good old sunshine nectar… Only a little Bard and you can handle it.”

The Pope chuckled. “I get the feeling that Sylvester may not look old, but in my mind, he’s just like us too. Now wait for me while I put Sir Dolorem to the bed, don’t drink all of this!”

Sir Dolorem did not know what had happened, but when his eyes again opened, he initially thought it was all just a dream. But then he felt the ceiling was not something he recognized, so he jolted up. “Where am I…”

But his voice died the moment he noticed the Pope and Fifth Guardian of Light sitting beside a table and staring at him. Thankfully they were now adequately dressed.

Pa!

Grandpa Monk clapped suddenly and shoved his palm at the Pope. “You lost the bet, son. He woke up in two hours.”

The Pope, begrudgingly, took out a gold coin from his pocket and gave it to Grandpa Monk. “I will win one day. Just remember that.”

“I’ve remembered it for two hundred years; I’ll probably die before you win.”

Sir Dolorem silently stayed seated, for this was not his place to speak. He mentally prepared himself for whatever was to come next. But one thing was certain; he saw this side of the Pope and the Fifth Guardian for the first time.

While the Pope usually seemed like a highly wise and strict person, the Fifth guardian was a silent sage. But apparently, this was their real personality.

The Pope noticed the gaze and ordered Sir Dolorem. “Forgive us for calling you here, son. But your duty calls you, for the young Bard sits on the tree branch, meditates, and likely watches a vision in a trance. There is no telling when he may wake up, so your task is to watch over him.”

Sir Dolorem stepped to the side and knelt like a knight, then saluted. “I shall fulfill the duty to the best of my ability, your holiness.”

“Good, then follow me.” The Pope led Sir Dolorem to the specific branch.

…

[Memoirs of Sir Dolorem]

[As shocking as seeing the Holy Father and Fifth Guardian like that was, it was also reassuring to know that they were just like us–people who enjoy little happiness.

But I was not prepared for what was to come next, and Sylvester’s halo and meditation were not even a part of it. Initially, I didn’t even believe it. I thought I was hallucinating after staying awake for a whole day without resting.

But then I realized someone was snoring nearby. I could not find anyone, no matter how much I looked, so I decided to try a hypothesis. Since the guards left food for me to consume, I decided to lay it as a trap.

At first, I put some fruit on a plate and then placed it beside Sylvester in a way I could see it, and yet it may seem I could not. And as I expected, one of the fruits–a banana–was slowly being pulled out of the plate and then behind Sylvester. Soon, the banana peel was thrown off.

I was frightened that an evil spirit had haunted Sylvester, but on second thought, I realized that was impossible, for we sat beneath the warmth of the holiest tree in the world. Hence, I planned to test another hypothesis. This time, I placed a plate with the symbol of the church on it.

Yet again, the banana got taken away. I kept doing it until it became so bold that the banana flew away right in front of my eyes. I had no idea what it was, but I reckon it was small. Was it the devil? Or an evil spirit? I do not believe that’s possible.

Sylvester is the Lord’s Bard, his shine is brighter than the sky stars. No evil can lurk near him lest they wish to burn.

This means it could only be one thing. It is a Guardian Angel, sent directly by the lord–for the one befitting a child of solis, blessed by the light–the true God’s Favored.

May the holy light enlighten us! I thank lord Solis for showing me this miracle!]

…

Present

Sylvester looked at the Pope’s face as if he saw a ghost. “Five days? How is that possible? I felt as if only a few minutes had passed.”

The Pope quickly handed him a little bottle of potion to restore the lost nutrients in his body. “That is why the visions are considered so rare and incomprehensible. Not just seeing them is hard, but also finding where it leads. Hence, in most cases, these visions are useless as by the time the seer realizes their oncoming fate, it’s too late.”

Sylvester nodded but didn’t elaborate on his own vision. He didn’t know who was after that girl. Was it the church she was running from?

Pat!

The Pope patted Sylvester’s back and spoke. “Priest Sylvester, I see you as a son… just know this.”

Sylvester internally frowned as he smelled the aroma of anxiety from the big man. “Thank you, holy father.”

The Pope nodded and replied with something nothing less than a shocker. “If you are physically feeling well, you have someone waiting to meet you–It’s the King Atrox Highland.”

Sylvester stopped himself from jumping in excitement. ‘Isn’t he the one who wanted to adopt me?!’

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