I Became The Pope, Now What?

“Sir Dolorem, isn’t this accepted in the faith?”

“It is, Lord Bard, among men that is.”

“Haha… then this is fine, right?… right? Let’s go in and take a bath.” Sylvester took a leap of faith and turned the doorknob, while Chonky was caught tight in his other arm, stopping the cat from running away from the bath.

He made as much sound as he could and entered. “I’m coming in, buddies.”

“Ah! Max! Look at this. I can slide it in just like Felix.” Gabriel excitedly turned to Sylvester.

At first, Sylvester wished to look away, but then he noticed that the scenes were different from what he had expected. Gabriel merely had Felix’s longsword with him, in its equally long scabbard.

“What? What were you two doing?” Sylvester asked.

Felix scoffed. “Gab, this fool thinks a long sword can not be practically put on the back and be easily taken out from the scabbard. I was just showing him how to do it.”

Sylvester and Sir Dolorem looked at each other’s faces and decided not to speak anything about what their minds thought not long ago.

“I need a bath. You two play all you want.” Sylvester silently went to soak in the hot pool. Miraj tried to fight but soon surrendered when the water touched him. What followed was a nice washy wash. Miraj got his fur cleaned, his chubby cheeks massaged, and had a king-like experience. The furry boy liked it in one way but also hated it in another.

“What did they say about the mission? Where are we going next?” Felix asked.

Sylvester relaxed in the hot medicinal water with his eyes closed. “It’s going to take from a week to a month before the next task. Also, I need you three to be at my home tonight. For starters, my mum is cooking to celebrate her promotion, and I will need you three while writing the completion report.”

Gabriel felt his stomach growl. “Finally, some tasty food. Can I bring my sister?”

“I don’t think you need to ask. Mum will bring her on her own.” Sylvester shrugged.

At that, Felix suddenly had some sort of divine enlightenment and asked Sir Dolorem. “Sir, you are not a clergy but a soldier, right?”

“True, I don’t have a clergy rank, like you three. Even you, Priest Felix, won’t be called Felix if you denounce your clergy rank.” Sir Dolorem replied.

Felix had some other questions, however. “Then why don’t you get married again? Find a nice wife, and make a family. I saw so many pretty ladies secretly eying you like fish for a cat. You even got a nice wedding singer at this stage.”

“I like bananas,” Miraj whispered.

Sir Dolorem shook his head and sighed. “Most would do the same, but I can’t–the memories of my wife… and son. I can’t betray them by having a union with some other woman. For now, the faith and my duties are my love and life.”

Sylvester nodded. ‘I can understand, pal. I haven’t forgotten either.’

Felix seemed disappointed. “That’s bad. My aunt would have been amazing with you. She’s looking for a handsome, strong man who shall sing the name of solis in the day and hers at night. Sadly, it seems she will have to do with her hand. What about you, Gab? Are you into QILS?”

“…”

“What’s QILS?” Gabriel innocently asked back. He was, after all, a true man of faith.

“All beautiful women are queen in my eyes, so QILS is Queens I’d like to shag.”

“Oh lord, have mercy on my soul, cleanse my ears and grant this man some holy tears.” Gabriel just started praying. ．

It was no secret that Felix didn’t want to be a clergyman. He was merely spending time before he finally broke his virginity. Then he’d just be a knight.

‘Young people.’ Sylvester shook his head in disappointment and dozed off for a few minutes. This calm was always much appreciated–more so after living days so conflicted.

‘I should visit that Soul Tree again to relax later.’

…

Soon the evening came, and Sylvester found himself eating dinner with his mother and friends. The food was excellent as always, and honey was appreciated in a few dishes. However, the three friends did feel a lack of one person.

“Sir Dolorem, you said you can find out where Markus is. Can you still do that?” Sylvester requested.

“I can try. But if it’s something too high level, then I’m afraid you will have to ask Lord Inquisitor himself. As I said before, most likely, he was taken by some spy department. That is why I am unsure if I can find his location.”

Sylvester didn’t like it. He had tutored the three boys to be his loyal aides. Now losing one left a bad taste. It was as if you trained for a competition the whole time and someone else took the prize.

“More?” Gabriel’s sister, Raven, was helping Xavia, so she came to Sylvester’s side and offered to put more chicken on his plate.

He nodded as he looked at the girl’s expressions. He looked for any hint of betrayal from her, any doubts or even fears. ‘Should I tell mum to keep a better eye?’

He silently ate his meal in the following minutes. Then he moved to his own room with the rest and started writing a report. “I need you to tell me anything and everything that you did while I was not near you. I have already written all the parts where I was present.”

So, all of them started to narrate their part of the stories.

Nothing was kept hidden in the report, every person they met, what they ate, where they slept, who they killed. Even Sylvester’s hymns were in the report, as he didn’t want anything to come and bite him in the back later. Especially the part where he incited a mob to kill the baron. Of course, no one could prove he did such a thing.

Sylvester didn’t remove the part where he let the Beastkin family go either, as that was likely to earn him more praise than condemnation. The one group of heathens the church was mostly soft with was Beastkins. This was because the beastkins were not that religious towards their own religions. Meanwhile, elves were hated the most for their strong beliefs, famous for never breaking.

Heck, even the elf slaves in Sol never accept the faith of Solis and keep praying to their god. Just another reason why Sylvester felt uncomfortable in the Holy Land.

But now, he was at a point where he was in danger everywhere, inside and outside too.

At last, just a few hours before the sun graced the lands with its warmth, Sylvester finished the report and went to sleep. In the morning, he’d sign it and be on his way. Unfortunately, the four had to stay up until late at night to write the whole report.

…

The next day.

Sanctum Council chambers.

The meeting of the Pope with his highest subordinates was in session. The Pope was reading about various vital matters related to the faith and world politics.

“Saint Seer, I need your ears in the Sorrow Kingdom and the Patch. If there is going to be a war, I’d rather support the Sorrow Kingdom, for they have not once betrayed us. While the Grand Duke dared destroy monasteries in the civil war. He has no respect for Solis and must not be allowed to grow–as every inch of land he gains will bolster his ego.”

Saint Seer, the chief spymaster, noted everything down. His job was simple. It was to be the neighborhood aunty’s best version, with ears everywhere. “It will be done, your holiness.”

The Pope turned the page in his booklet and got to the next task. “I’ve heard some daunting news about the rise of bloodlings. Lord Inquisitor, what are you doing about this?”

“There have been 1800 confirmed cases of Bloodlings appearing, your holiness. We have been able to kill a thousand of them as they were weak ones. But as we doubted, the places that saw the most bloodshed in the thousand years of war are spawning the strongest bloodlings. Worry not, however–Our light shall win forever.” the tall man replied, now healed from his past wounds.

But the Pope was not satisfied. “Men, we are supposed to be the most enlightened in the world, yet we can not find a solution to this curse. We must do something before it gets worse. Whatever this dark energy causing bloodlings to spawn is, it needs to disperse–get to it, find experts, and make plans. Ask the clergy; we don’t lack smart men.”

Then, at last, the Pope saw the summary of the detailed report Sylvester had submitted that morning. “Coming to the next part, Saint Wazir has pointed out something extremely worrisome about God’s Favored Sylvester.”

Inquisitor High Lord’s eyes shined behind the visor. “Someone dared try assassinating the blessed child–I say, simply burning as a punishment is rather mild.”

“Indeed, for this, I have tasked Saint Seer to look into it. But there is something else that worries me. You all read it. A man, an adventurer, named Jax, is mentioned, a man who helped God’s favored for he didn’t like Bright Mothers being hurt.

“He was described as someone with blonde hair, golden eyes, and an old, bearded face. We all know who loves to appear in this disguise.” the Pope stopped as he glanced at everyone.

When others looked back at him in shock, he nodded. “Julius Aurelius Alexander, head of the Order of Anti-Light, the man who nearly killed Lord Inquisitor. Jax is an abbreviation for his name.”

It was something that shook the grounds below their feet. Inquisitor High Lord, especially, was enraged hearing the name, for he was bedridden for weeks due to him. “He dared!”

But at that moment, Saint Scepter, the man who rarely spoke, added. “He seems to be testing the God’s Favored… for what, we do not know.”

“I know.” The Pope started. “Every man who looks in darkness also tries to see what’s beyond it. He most likely knows his Anti-Light will only bring chaos, so he wished to test the future of the faith…, and I hope Priest Sylvester passes.”

Saint Wazir started just then. “By that, your holiness, I have received complaints from the Cardinal Sanctum of Duchy of Ironstone. He is enraged that God’s Favored had his equal authority and even excommunicated a baron–resulting in his eventual demise.”

The Pope’s face turned into an angry scowl all of a sudden. “Wazir–I am disappointed. Do you not remember why people respect us? Do you not know why they pray to Solis? That’s because it brings them solace. How will they do so when their own overlords vie to exploit them?”

Saint Wazir lowered his head. This was his second warning in past years, and the third would mean he had failed in his duty, knowingly or unknowingly. “Forgive me, holy father.”

The Pope boomed, yet his voice didn’t rise too high. “We are the holy men. It’s our duty to check every wolf’s den. And when they get sick in their mind or body–we ensure they don’t indulge in some twisted hobby. What Priest Sylvester did was grace upon that land, while the appointed Cardinal Suprima didn’t even take a stand.

“And now he dares speak? Heathen! Hypocrite! Headless–that’s how I wish to see him! He sat in his comfortable keep while the people suffer–and weep.”

The Pope stood up all of a sudden and closed the books. He was done with the meeting. “I suppose you know what you must do, Wazir.”

Saint Wazir bowed his head, disappointed with himself. “I shall look for a replacement Cardinal, your holiness.”

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