I Became The Pope, Now What?

“The filth has been washed. The greedy demons have been quashed.”

The words echoed in Sylverster’s head again and again. Finally, after some long few months, he sighed in relief. His hard work and mental juggling had finally worked out to his benefit. There came many hindrances along the way and unforeseen situations, but the result was as savoury as possible.

“How many did we get?” Sylvester asked.

Saint Seer finally showed a faint smile. “Four hundred and sixty, Archpriest. It was tough, but with your help, my ears heard even the faintest of the disturbance. I assure you, we are now free of all termites that were hollowing us down.”

Sylvester sat down and looked at the rest in his cell. “Thank you for being patient all this time.”

“B-But… What did you plan?” Lady Aurora questioned.

Saint Seer looked at Sylvester. “Archpriest, you didn’t tell the sixth and the ninth Guardian of Light the plan?!”

Sylvester nonchalantly replied. “You can never be more careful. The walls have ears. You should know better than me.”

“…”

Saint Seer lowered his voice and entered the prison cell to speak with the Guardians, Gideon Gracia and the others. “What Archpriest did was…”

…

2 Weeks ago.

As soon as the Winter Army was captured and pushed inside the dungeon, the news spread that the Barbarians had taken over the Duchy of Iceling. The spread was organic as spies from around the Sol closely monitored the situation as it involved an Emperor Lich.

After the news spread, some strange characters appeared in the Duchy of Iceling, trying to meet Elder Chief Koruk for various reasons. At first, the visitors called themselves envoys of some lord. Then they called themselves envoys from the Holy Land.

But, when nothing worked, they spoke the name of their original master, a nation so strong that none dare even look at it.

“Why do you come here now?” Elder Chief Koruk questioned each visitor in an angered voice.

Each time, the answer was the same—a demand. “We shall give you fifty million Gold Graces for the head of Sylvester Maximilian.”

In response, Elder Chief Koruk raged and kicked the envoy out each time. But then, another would come with only one difference in their word and different attire: some thin, some fat, some short and some tall.

“We shall give you one hundred million Gold Graces for the head of the bard.”

Koruk kept on denying, and they kept on coming.

“Two hundred million.”

“Five hundred million.”

“Seven hundred million.”

“One billion Gold Graces.”

The money was not small. Koruk wondered if that humongous amount of gold even existed in any king or emperor’s treasury. He could imagine if it was the Holy Land as they had too many ways of earning, but could a mere noble have that?

But, despite all his greediness that tried to take over his mind, he vanquished the unholy thoughts. A deal had already been made, and he decided to stick by it for the sake of his people, for he trusted in the promise of Sylvester.

“Soldiers! Throw this buffoon out!” Koruk roared in seething anger.

After that, for a few days, there was peace for Koruk. He focused on maintaining the health of his people, keeping the town safe and ensuring the Winter Army in the dungeons wasn’t suffering.

But, the peace lasted only a few days as a man came in the middle of the second week. This time there was something different, as this man didn’t use any flowery words or appear weak. Instead, he wore armour made of fine steel with engravings that only a general could afford.

He talked nothing but business with his sword unsheathed. “Bring me the head of Sylvester Maximilian, and in return, take Gold Graces—THREE BILLION!”

There was a long silence in the duke’s hall that Elder Chief Koruk was occupying. The enticing amount of money clearly shook Koruk. Three billion was enough to survive for decades, not just him but his entire Storst Faction.

Sadly, what Koruk desired was something that only Sylvester could grant—a land to call home. So, he politely declined while unsheathing his sword. “The holy land has sent many envoys like you over the past few days. Do you truly believe I would give you the only leverage that’s keeping the Holy Land from launching an all-out war against me? Thank you for the offer, but gold is worth nothing to me.”

“Then you leave me with no choice, filth. You barbarians should be exterminated.” The man roared and attacked.

Woosh!

But, before he could even reach Koruk, out of nowhere, a spear made of Darkstone rushed out of a wall and plunged right into the unruly visitor’s leg, instantly rendering him useless with his magic.

“Ugh!” He groaned and tried to take the spear out.

Thud!

But Koruk gave no chance and plunged the spear even deeper, looking at his visitor with a wide grin. “I was waiting for the leader of all those who came before to show up.”

“You think you won? They will return and tell our master to send an expert after you!”

Koruk crossed his arms and shook his head, showing false pity. “Preacher of Solis didn’t leave any way out for you men, did he? Your lackeys are currently facing the same fate as you. But worry not, this is merely the beginning.”

“Indeed. We haven’t given you our special welcome treatment yet.” A third person walked in from a hidden door, bald and hooded.

“Will you speak, or must I welcome you properly… spy of Masan.” Saint Seer, with no expressions, stared into the man’s eyes. “Archpriest concocted this grand scheme for months, so I can’t give him subpar results now. Speak, so-called James Parkson, the ‘trader’.”

The more Saint Seer walked closer to the man, the scarier he seemed. The coldness in his voice and the uncaring gaze were unsettling.

But, the spy was brave, for he was the leader of those stationed in the East. “My offer also extends to you, famed spymaster, Saint Seer. Five billion Gold Graces for the head of Sylvester Maximilian. You don’t need him, for you already have a candidate who shall soon become Supreme Wizard, perfect for the seat of the Pope.”

Saint Seer knelt and grabbed the spy’s throat. “Then why do you wish to kill him if he’s not worth anything?”

“He… Because he…”

“No answers?” Saint Seer stood back up. “The reason your Emperor wants him dead is not because of his light or mind but because of his age. In all our history, there has never been a man born with the potential to go beyond Supreme Wizard—That scares you, doesn’t it?”

The spy had nothing to say. Just thinking about the power scale of a Supreme Wizard, his mind could not comprehend how strong someone beyond that rank would be—A god?

“Now, tell me the name of all your spies and their location, or you will experience the church’s hospitality.” Saint Seer, in his monotonous voice, demanded.

Sadly, no replies came, and the spy remained mute. Minutes passed, and nobody moved.

“You leave me with no choice then. Soldiers, lock him in the castle’s lowest dungeon. Prepare a cloth, a steel pipe, an unsharpened handsaw, bells, and a sharp knife. Sleep he shall receive none, the food he’ll have plenty but from the bottom—And air…he will cry to acquire.”

Just to name a few, waterboarding, rectal feeding, sleep deprivation, body mutilation, forced healing of bones in the wrong ways, and burning. Such methods became part of the life of spy James Parkson for the whole coming week.

The truth was, they didn’t even need the man to open his mouth. Over the past few months, Saint Seer had activated all his resources to monitor even the slightest suspicious movement. With that, he had marked all Masan spies in the east, and on the day James Parkson was caught, all other spies were killed at the same time in sync as they tried to rush to Duchy of Iceling.

The only reason James Parkson received the guest’s treatment was to double-check with the names to ensure they had gotten all the spies.

…

At present,

The cell was shrouded in silence as all eyes, one by one, swivelled to rest upon Sylvester. It both astounded and intimidated them to contemplate that, as they marched with a unified objective of vanquishing the undead, Sylvester’s machinations were operating on an entirely different plane, transcending their own ambitions and goals.

“How did you even think about this? And when did you start working on it?” Felix asked.

Sylvester stretched his arms while slowly standing straight. His body had been healed, and he was stronger than ever after exerting so much. “I knew from the moment I heard about Felix’s mission that Masan had something to do with this. After all, the Shadow of Masan had stayed in these parts for more than a decade. He planned many things, and we were just waiting for them to formalise.

“So, I never let my guard down and planned this operation. Now, I can happily say that we have ruined Ghost of Masan’s decades of work. Now we don’t need to fear some massive scheme or crisis erupting out of nowhere.”

Gideon Gracia, whose kingdom was to benefit from Sylvester’s hard work the most, couldn’t help but feel utterly grateful and, at the same time, regretful. So he spoke his mind when it mattered the most while saluting Sylvester with his arms crossed on his chest, as they did in the church.

“Lord Bard, we never apologised to you for when the third Grand Wizard of Gracia, Sir Maximus, tried to kill you in the Duchy of Ironstone. You have singlehandedly benefited the kingdom more than any of us, and yet we saw you with eyes of hostility.” Gideon said in a remorseful voice. He didn’t look Sylvester in the eye as he felt shame.

Because while he was a Grand Wizard of level five, he proved to be useless, while an Archpriest showed the true meaning of being a leader and a ruler.

Sylvester patted Lord Gideon’s shoulder. “Let the bygones be bygones, my lord. The future queen of Gracia, Princess Isabella, is like a sister to me. If not for my duty, then for my friendship with her, I’d do this work anytime.”

Gideon felt warmth in his heart to learn Princess Isabella had such strong allies. But alas, he sighed. “Only if you were a civilian, I’d have married you into the royal family.”

“…”

“Ah!” Felix exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to write my weekly letter to Isabella.”

Sylvester looked at his friend as he heard of this for the first time. “You’ve been sending her letters?”

“Of course, she asked for them so she could worry less about our safety.” Felix blurted.

But, unbeknownst to him, he garnered the attention of an overprotective old man who happens to be the strongest man in the Gracia family.

Lord Gideon Gracia walked up to Felix and stood before him with crossed arms. “What is your relationship with my grand-niece?”

“Oh, I like her.”

“…”

Heads turned to look at Felix. That day, respect for Felix instantly grew manifold in everyone’s mind. The mad Sword of Solis feared absolutely nothing.

Gideon Gracia’s brows twitched. “Haha, of course, you’re friends. All friends like each other.” 𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝘭.𝘦𝑡

“No, I meant romantically.”

“…”

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