I Became The Pope, Now What?

“Calm down, your grace. Hear my proposal first. Do you really think a barbarian could ever be recognised as a Duke? The King and the Church will never agree. But we need the Borzol faction to believe it. Fralan Borzol and Zelfim Borzol rule like kings, and their greed will be their downfall.” Sylvester clarified and got the parchment back.

The Duchess didn’t sit and demanded further explanation. “Tell me in detail.”

“As I said, we have a huge battle coming soon. But, I’d rather have Barbarian blood spilt than the blood of believers of Solis. To do that, we must create certain situations where the mountain tribes become destabilised and infighting starts. Then, when the time comes, we need them to fight each other and create a situation where the undead attack simultaneously. We ought to use the Barbarian leaders to fight against Emperor Lich, but at the same time, we shall kill and weaken the Barbarians.

“By the end, our goal is to kill the Elder Lich and weaken the Barbarians to the point that destroying them becomes easy. We shall soon have large armies arriving here, so it’s time I start planning the next phase. For that, I need your grace to sign the fake surrender. After that, I shall be the one to take the paper to the Borzol faction as your close aide.”

Sylvester revealed some of his plans and silently awaited any input. Everyone thought about it, and the idea he painted in their heads was too good to be true. Using one enemy against another was brilliant.

“Are you sure you’re not taking them for fools? They are bound to be old folks and should know how to smell schemes.” Duchess questioned.

There was some doubt, but Sylvester was sure about his plan. “That’s why it must be subtle. I will not be outrightly telling them to fight. The fight shall be the consequence of the information I will tell them. Of course, they are smart, but they have also kept themselves cut from the South and have some sort of blood pride situation going on among themselves.”

“And you wish to go alone? Why?” Lady Aurora was worried about him.

“I should go with you.” Sir Dolorem suggested.

But Sylvester didn’t budge. He had his own reasonings, as he had learned from Chief Koruk that the Borzol siblings were madmen, sick in mind. Meeting them with a crowd would only be like giving more leverage to the Borzol faction—Leverage to do something crazy.

“No, only I will go. I don’t doubt you all, but it is possible that they might say, ‘Leave your partner here until the end of the deal,’ and that will ruin the plan. We have already lost Felix, but no more.”

“What if he tries to kill you?” Bishop Lazark asked.

Sylvester smiled and raised his right hand and made it shine. “Then I will simply reveal my identity and invoke the name of the Pope. Whatever the mountain tribes may think how strong they are, their leaders know that fighting with the Church is suicide. So, if they try to kill me, I only have to tell them about the consequences. But, I hope this situation does not occur, as it will ruin the plan.”

Sadly, smiling was easy. He knew the mountainous task ahead was dangerous, and entering the lions’ den was a significant risk. But nothing came without risks. Felix was still there, and he had to get the latter out somehow.

He got up to prepare since it was already night. “I shall go and have some rest, your grace. You have until morning to decide whether to sign on this or not. Please do not share what we discussed here with anyone. Who knows who holds treacherous hearts. I will prepare for my journey in the meantime.”

“Wait! What if I reject? What are you preparing for then?” The Duchess asked as he was about to leave.

Sylvester glanced at everyone’s faces, especially Gabriel, who was utterly broken by the guilt that Felix was caught due to him.

“Well, I still have a friend captured. So if you don’t want my help in this fight, I’d rather save my friend and return to the Holy Land. Good night, your grace.”

As Sylvester left, Duchess Melina Iceling stared at his back and realised something that increased the stature of Sylvester in her eyes manifold. Who was Sylvester? A simple clergyman, not even of a high rank. He was the golden child of the faith and, in theory, had no reason to go out of his way to even talk to her, let alone help her.

Yet, he went to Grand Fort Storst, looked into the undead, and now offered to save her Duchy. Why? She could not imagine a big enough reason that would explain it. He was too young to be worried about anything other than growing strong, as even becoming the Pope was something to worry about after the age of one hundred and fifty, as most Popes in the past.

But, as far as she could see, he actively took risks for the sake of others.

All that did make her doubt her past prejudice that God’s Favoured, Lord’s Bard and such were merely tricks of the Church to appear holier than thou. 𝒃𝙚𝙤𝙫𝒆𝒍．𝙘𝒐𝙢

‘The way he talks and thinks, it’s nothing like a boy his age. Could it be that he is indeed the chosen one by Solis… Could h…’

She could not complete her thoughts, however. Her sons were Sylvester’s age, and she considered them prodigies, too, as they were exceptional in studies and martial arts. But if they were prodigies, then what was Sylvester?

Eventually, the night fell, and everyone retreated to their rooms to rest. The coming days were going to be harsh, and all needed to conserve as much energy as possible. So some sharpened their swords, while some spent time with their families.

Alone in his room, Sylvester wrote a few letters for the Church and other nobles. He wrote to Duke Grimton and Duke Zon, asking them to send men to battle the undead, or else their duchies would never see peace. He also wrote to the Duke of Normani, a man he had never met before.

Ultimately, he wrote to the Pope directly, informing him about Emperor Lich and telling him his elaborate plan to end the mountain tribal menace once and for all.

Bam!

“Maxy! Look what I caught!” Miraj came running in from the open window, covered in snow. “See, I caught another undead bird.”

Sylvester quickly took a towel and wrapped Miraj like a doll first. “I told you not to play in the snow. Aren’t you feeling cold?”

Miraj giggled, loving the attention and rubs. “Hehe, my fur is very thick, so no worries.”

Finally, after cleaning Miraj, he took the undead bird. “Alright, let’s see what our mighty Chonky caught.”

Sylvester read the parchment tied to the undead bird’s claw. “Fifteen virgins, tongue of an orc, testicles of a vampire, saliva of an elf, the heart of a centaur and the eye of a goblin—What the fuck am I reading?”

Sylvester was confused beyond words and read the whole thing again and again. He knew these were probably ingredients for something. “Does he want all this? I should consult the Pope directly.”

So he added the ingredients to the letter to the Pope before sleeping.

…

In another room, a blind Inquisitor sat by the table and wrote something in a book. He could not see but was still a master of senses and easily did what any other man could. He poured his heart and soul into what he wrote, a habit he had not let go of in the past seventeen years.

[Memoirs Of Sir Dolorem

Cold, harsh snow-capped mountains rise majestically from the rugged wilderness. Jagged peaks glisten in the bright sunlight, casting long shadows across the pristine valleys. The snow-covered slopes are dotted with evergreens, their branches heavy with snow. The air is crisp and clear, and the silence is broken only by the occasional call of a distant bird.

I can no longer see, but I can imagine what I feel. The cold, harsh north can test a man’s body and patience. Yet here I see the blessed bard of the lord taking risks that could result in his demise. But I do not stop him anymore, for I know that the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

I have seen him grow from a child to an adult. I could never be a good father to my actual child, but I hope I didn’t fail to be a guide to Lord Bard. He has outgrown me and no longer needs my advice.

So I merely hope I can continue to be of use and serve him till my last breath. In that hope, I have decided to compile a complete recollection of the life of Sylvester Maximilian, a man born for greatness.

I suppose history will remember me for this more than anything else. As my devotion to Solis is unwavering, no matter how labouring.

I’ve been blessed, Solis. So may your Holy Light enlighten Lord Bard, for his journey has only begun.]

He closed the journal and opened a blank book. Then, he started writing everything he knew about the life of Sylvester while omitting a few personal details. From the day he saw the little bard singing by the pyre until now.

It was going to be a long, arduous task, but he hoped to live long enough to end it when the bard shall take the rightful throne.

…

Oblivious to the self-deprecating thoughts of the blind inquisitor, Sylvester rested for the night. In his dreams, he continuously saw the visions of the little girl. He wondered how she was. Was she even alive?

Ting! Ting! Ting!

But, he was forced to wake up at the first light of the morning. The bells were ringing around the whole town and castle yet again. Shouts of people were loud outside, and the clanking of swords was audible.

“Argh! What now?” Sylvester rose from his bed and put on the golden armour quickly. Miraj was still asleep, so he put him around his shoulder and ran out with the spear.

“What happened?” He saw a servant sprinting.

“Demon! Demon snake has attacked, Lord Bard! Run!”

“…”

“Demon snake?” Sylvester had never heard of this before. So he continued and eventually found Lady Aurora, Sir Dolorem and the rest of the team preparing to go out.

Soon, they all got on a few borrowed horses and rushed to the southern boundary wall of the Frozen Town. The people had locked themselves in their houses by then, and all the soldiers had crowded the south wall with spears, bows and swords.

“What happened?” Lady Aurora took the leading position and questioned.

Lord Prima was there in his armour, looking horrified. “D-Demon snake!”

Annoyed, Lady Aurora pushed the soldiers aside and looked outside. But, surprisingly, she also froze.

Sylvester made way too and glanced at the snow-covered landscape. His shoulders, too, fell. “What monstrosity is this?”

Right there was a giant white aggressive snake, at least two hundred feet long. Purple feathers were protruding out of its head, and gold ornaments covered its front and the tail’s tip. It was huge enough to swallow an entire carriage, making it appear demonic.

“Wait!” Sylvester exclaimed as he took out his telescope.

“Is that someone standing on its head?”

________________________

[A/N: See the snake and the man above it here.]

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