I Became The Pope, Now What?

The city gates opened again just then with a loud noise. Five heavily armoured knights came out on armoured horses and respectfully bowed their heads towards Sylvester.

“Your Grace, I am Sir Portugas. Please come with us. We shall escort you to the Royal palace.” The knight in the leading position spoke.

‘I smell no lies.’

Sylvester gestured for the men to move along as he steered the carriage. Still, as he passed by the gate guards who made a scene, he shined some light from his palm on them to make them feel blessed.

‘This should leave an everlasting memory.’ He reckoned.

Eventually, he crossed the thick border walls as bells echoed throughout Green City. The moment he glanced inside, he saw a crowd.

Sylvester’s carriage slowly descended the main road, flanked by knights in shining armour on horseback. The people of Green City lined the streets, cheering and waving, as Sylvester smiled and waved back at them in confusion.

Tap!

“Hmm?” He looked at his shoulder. “A flower petal?”

“LORD BARD!”

“LORD BARD!”

“SON OF SOLIS!”

As if a dark world got filled with colour, the instantaneous change in atmosphere shocked Sylvester. The drums started resounding, and the muffled echoes of hundreds and thousands of people shouting the same thing reached him.

One look and everything became clear. He noticed the people had gathered at the sides of the road the whole way. They all cheered, smiled and jumped to catch a glimpse of him. And whenever he passed by, the people threw flower petals at him.

“SAVIOUR OF GRACIA!”

Many monikers were given to Sylvester, and the people shouted all of them. The kids jumped joyfully and ran on the sides to follow the carriage. The old and young, everyone cheered, and it seemed genuine since no negative scents were there.

‘When did I become so famous?’ Sylvester wondered. After all, he knew information travels very slowly in the current world. There was no way for so many people to hear about his deeds in the Northern mountains so fast. .

A hypothesis developed in his mind right there. ‘Did the bards I impressed spread the word while they headed in various directions?’

He put that thought away and waved at the people while making his hand shine and muttering an old hymn to create a halo behind his head. Of course, he would never ruin the unique chance to show his magical holy majesty. This was an opportunity to leave a lasting image in everyone’s mind.

The people simply knelt after seeing his enlightened form, something he had named it. The rain of flowers didn’t stop, nor did the crowd vanish until he arrived at the tall gates that led to King’s Castle.

The drawbridge came down, and the gates were opened. Even inside, Sylvester noticed hundreds of Gracia soldiers in neat armour lined up on the sides of the road. They were all on their horses and held a spear on their sides.

Thud!

As Sylvester moved his rundown, hideous carriage inside, the soldiers tapped their spears on the ground and tilted them forward a little to salute. Then, they all lowered their helmet-covered heads, and even the horses lowered their heads.

‘Isn’t this overdoing it?’ Sylvester thought and awkwardly moved the carriage towards the tall castle.

Sensing the situation was much more official than what he guessed, he quickly took out his Archbishop mitre and donned it on his head. He then patted his robes clean and put some fragrant oil on Miraj.

Then, he reached the enormous tens of metres tall main door of the King’s castle. The knights escorting him stopped and lined up at the side of his carriage.

“Your grace, we will take care of the carriage. Please proceed inside the castle as the masses await you.” The chief knight respectfully informed him.

Sylvester kept an air of superiority and got off. Then, with a proud face, he walked into the castle and found Sir Dolorem with Bishop Lazark waiting for him.

“May the holy light enlighten us. What is happening here?” Sylvester asked the two like a superior. There were other guards and some servants around, so Sylvester ensured he maintained his image.

Sir Dolorem saluted back and, in a formal manner, responded. “Lord Bard, the various nobles from across the Gracia have gathered in the great hall of the King. The feast is ready to begin, and all but your presence is being awaited.”

Sylvester nodded and gestured to them to proceed ahead. Meanwhile, he spoke with Miraj in low whispers. “Many lords and ladies will be here with various jewellery. But don’t try to take anything shiny this time, Chonky. ”

Miraj melted on Sylvester’s head in defeat. “This is no fun. What if some lady is wearing a one-of-a-kind precious stone?”

“In that case, I will tell you to target the woman. Remember, do not steal anything without my permission.” He sternly warned the greedy cat. “We will have enough fools to steal from in the Sorrow Kingdom.”

“Oh! Hehe…” Miraj grinned instantly and patted his belly. “Happy days are coming for Chonky bank?”

“Certainly.”

Sir Dolorem looked back. “You said something, Lord Bard?”

“No, nothing. What is the reason for this feast? Were you able to find out?” Sylvester asked the two.

Sadly, they merely shrugged and denied knowing anything. So eventually, they arrived at the grand entrance to the Throne room. The sentries standing guard at the gates hurried to open it on Sylvester’s arrival.

Sylvester stepped into the imperial hall of King Gracia. As he made his way through the grand entrance, he couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of the surroundings. The high vaulted ceiling soared overhead, supported by tall, elegant polished marble pillars. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of great battles and heroic deeds.

The hall was illuminated by myriad candles, their flickering flames casting a warm glow across the room. The floor was made of polished stone, with intricate patterns etched into its surface. The air was perfumed with the scent of exotic oils and burning incense, creating a heady and intoxicating atmosphere.

At the far end of the hall stood the King’s throne, a magnificent structure of gilded gold, steel and precious stones.

While all around Sylvester, noble lords and ladies in their finest attire mingled and chatted. Their eyes soon darted towards him as he entered the room. Some gasped in awe, while others bowed respectfully in his direction.

Right after the entrance, Sylvester stopped as the head steward, the Lord Prima of the King, Count Harvard Zeelif, loudly announced the arrival. “Archbishop Sylvester Maximilian, Lord’s Bard, the God’s Favoured and the saviour of Gracia.”

Sylvester smiled graciously, his eyes scanning the room. He noticed the King standing at the far end of the hall, near the stairs that led to the throne. What didn’t surprise him was how he was surrounded by old men in church robes.

It was no big secret to Sylvester that the current King was merely a pawn of the church ever since the case of Duke Daemon came to light. Hence, the church influenced every decision the King made and the Kingdom’s working.

“Lord Bard! It’s an honour to see you here.”

Sylvester looked to the side and noticed Count Raftel with his wife, Lady Melinda. Who had lost her breasts from the incident in the past and was eventually healed in the Holy Land. Sylvester had also permitted the Count to mass-produce the medical equipment he invented.

“Good evening, my lord and lady. Any idea what’s going on here?” He asked them.

Raftel smiled and pointed towards the throne. “You are to be honoured by the King for your selfless service to the Kingdom. I don’t know what it is, but it should be something significant, considering all of us lords were invited. Why don’t I introduce you to some of the Lords that have a pleasant mindset?”

Sylvester quickly discerned that Raftel was trying to introduce him to other nobles he could influence for some exchange of benefits.

“That will be appreciated.”

So Sylvester spent the next hour or so meeting with many nobles. Most of them were Counts, as Sylvester already knew nearly all Dukes. He made sure to memorise the names of all the Counts there.

Count Martin, Count Seasnake, Count Lowtide, Count Hillington, Count Clawman, Count Greenhill, Count Folksire, Count Newman, Count Aslan, Count Baltimov, Count Krazan and Count Shortwood — they were some of the Counts that ruled the Gracia Kingdom under the various Dukes.

Furthermore, Sylvester found it easier to remember them as their names were derived from the location they lived. For example, the Count that lived in green hills was named Greenhill. They were old families that were minor warlords before the consolidation of the entire Gracia, thenceforth becoming Counts.

However, the last Count made Sylvester interested, making him ask Count Raftel. “Why is he named Shortwood?”

Count Raftel chuckled. “Hah, I can imagine what you are thinking, Lord Bard. We often tease him about it, but he proved us wrong by making kids after kids. By now, he has fathered fifteen kids, all boys, from a single woman.”

Sylvester glanced at the balding but middle-aged Count in the distance. “I’m more impressed by his wife than him.”

“Trust me, we all are, Lord Bard.” Count Raftel said, sounding somewhat envious.

“Ehm…! The official ceremony shall begin now. Therefore, all respected lords and ladies, please empty the walkway to the throne.” Lord Prima bellowed suddenly.

Thud!

Thud!

Knights marched into the hall in two lines and stopped on the carpet leading to the throne. They all faced each other, creating a path between them.

The Prima then waited until King Harold Gracia took his seat. Then, he read a long scroll detailing everything Sylvester had ever done and how he fought for the Kingdom’s well-being.

“His miracles are more than one can count. Of his graciousness, there are countless accounts. Lord Bard, we call him, Archbishop some, and for us mere mortals, a warrior he was forced to become.” The Prima spoke loud. His voice echoed in the enormous hall.

“The vile schemes of the Masan, or the threats of Barbarians, each time he came to our aid when we didn’t even see the threat that was coming. He shielded us from danger and, in return, asked for nothing. A sage he is, the wisest of all—He defeated our enemies until they couldn’t even crawl.

“O’ King of Bards, you are above mortal wealth and desires, but please accept our puny gesture to show respect, for we merely desire to show our faith as Lord’s subject.”

Silence delved into the hall as the Prima closed the scroll and looked at Sylvester, who had appeared at the end of the long pathway between the knights.

He continued once again. “For the highest service of self-sacrifice, you graced us when none of us expected. For neutralising the threat of Emperor Lich and Barbarians, we are in your utmost debt—and this, Gracia will never forget!”

“For this!” King Harold Gracia stood up abruptly in all his noble majesty with the shining crown on his head.

“I, King Harold Gracia, have decided to confer upon his grace, Archbishop Sylvester Maximilian, the highest martial honour in the Gracia Kingdom, the rank of…

“Grand Field Marshal, The Overlord Of Armies!”

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[A/N: See the map of Gracia with named Counties. Also, read the Author’s note below.]

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1000 GT = 1 Bonus chapter.

1 Super Gift = 1 Bonus chapter.

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