I Became The Pope, Now What?

‘What the hell is going on in this village?’ Sylvester tried to make a wild guess but didn’t want to accept it.

“Tell me everything, Archpriest Norin,” he demanded.

“The man over there is Master Hornbill, who runs this area for his liege, Baron Vermilion.” Archpriest pointed at the men on horseback, watching the villagers being put inside the cage slowly. “Our village faced a heavy drought this year, and nothing grew.

“And with the death of Markus, the head monastery of the region does not send money anymore. The people are desperate to survive here—they have kids too. So, like hyenas smelling meat, Master Hornbill came to abuse them.

“He loves to hunt, but as you can see, the area surrounding us is barren desert flatland. So he offered to pay the villagers who agreed to become his prey in the hunts. He pays 10 Muds to each participant, and he will pay 1 Silver Crown for every death. Those men and women you see willingly accept death—as they step into that cage, they have made peace with their lives.” The old man’s voice started to crack by the end, unable to see the suffering of the people he saw grow from little kids.

Sir Dolorem, Felix, and Gabriel felt angered by that too. They knew darkness existed in the world, but the example in front of them was of the negligence of duty and exploitation of the poor.

Sylvester was not too shocked, however. It was common for the worst of humanity to come out during a crisis. He’d have ignored it if the abuser was an ordinary man, but here the case was the noble supposed to look after these people.

“What about Markus’ family?”

Archpriest shook his head. “Last month, Markus’ father died from this hunt. He survived nine such runs, but a man can’t always be lucky.”

“What! Markus was a man of faith. How can his family be treated like that? Did you not make it clear?” Felix butted in.

“I did, but no one listened. Initially, when Markus was selected as God’s Favored Candidate, the whole village was proud and happy as the future looked bright, so when he dropped out, his family received a lot of hate, and now that he’s gone… sadly, nobody cares.”

It saddened the three boys to think the people were so cruel just because Markus chose to live by dropping out. But that left them questioning how the family was doing now and what to do with this case.

Sylvester sighed and looked toward the people. “Why is it that we never really find happy places?”

Sir Dolorem reminds him quickly. “You’re an SI, Priest. It’s your job to find and cure the rotten part of the society around us.”

“In that case, let’s play a real game of hunting with this noble. Boys, I have a plan, so hear me out.” Sylvester gathered his team on the side and plotted an excellent scheme. The thing was that he was a member of the church, and as Sanctum Inspector, his jurisdiction was only over Church matters; he could not interfere in the affairs of nobles.

But soon, they all started, heading to fulfill their decided role. Sylvester, meanwhile, put some dye on his hair and brows and put on commoner clothes, torn from some places. ‘This one’s for you, Markus. May your soul rest in peace.’

Sylvester moved out of the monastery and headed towards the crowd. The guards there selected young men and women who could run fast since the Baron hunted on horseback with a bow.

Old people were an easy target, and women start to get slow after middle age. So young men and women were the ideal choice; kids were spared, however.

Sylvester had some dirt on his face and a lot more on his clothes. He let out a long breath and thinned his cheeks to appear sick. Then, he tried to walk forward slowly from the crowd. He was afraid of being called out by the people themselves, but when he reached the place, he realized it was a flesh market, the guards simply picked a person and moved them into the caged cart.

Of course, he was a little over six foot, so he stood out in the crowd, not to mention he appeared young—a good runner for the lord.

“Have I ever seen you before?” All of a sudden, a middle-aged man called him out in the crowd.

Sylvester didn’t look at him and acted like he was only focused on being selected for the job and making some money. Internally, Sylvester was annoyed. ‘Of course, someone was going to ask this, it’s just a small village, and people probably know each other.’

“You! Tallboy! get in!”

‘Finally!’

It didn’t take long for Sylvester to get selected and be shoved into the caged cart and huddled with 12 other people. Soon there was not even enough space to stand up properly, as the crowd was too much.

‘I should try to be in the line of sight of Master Hornbill.’ He planned as it was his aim to be hunted.

Eventually, the horses pulled their cage without care for their well-being and brought them east of the village to a small patch of land where a few dying trees were left. It was the best place to hunt as the trees provided enough locations to hide and make it challenging.

“You all know what needs to be done. You all must run away when I whistle, and you shall have until this minute glass loses all its sand.” The guard debriefed the people.

Sylvester could feel the smell of brokenness from the people. Funny enough, it also smelled like rotten flesh. There was not an ounce of happiness in that cage. Yet, all were on the same page—since death did not discriminate between ages.

“Go!”

The guard opened the gate of the cage, and everyone ran out. Sylvester got out last and walked away as if he were strolling in the park. Not only that, he also spat on the ground while walking, showing the noble that he was not afraid.

Sylvester could expect a man who takes pleasure in hunting people to be enraged by the disrespect from who he considered his prey.

‘Come on, fool. Take this holy meat.’ Sylvester muttered while walking slow enough that it’d take a long time to vanish from the line of sight. He was not trying to hide, which should have raised red flags in the noble’s mind, but the latter was too accustomed to living in luxury where he didn’t have to think a lot. .

Woof!

Woof!

“Maxy, friends are here!” Chonky meowed from his shoulder.

Sylvester chuckled and stopped the hounds first. He used the fire element to leave the land under his feet so hot the paws of the hounds would hurt, discouraging them from running more or faster.

“Ha!”

Eventually, the sound of hooves resounded, and like a bunch of wolves, the men chased. Sylvester was the closest and in plain sight. It was like a real animal hunt, as the guards moved ahead and tried to make Sylvester run in the direction they wanted.

Sylvester obliged and ran zigzag, avoiding the arrows fired from Master Hornbill’s bow.

‘Alright, it’s time to play my game.’

Sylvester suddenly turned around and faced the noble with crossed arms and a raised chin of pride. “Stop this instant, you insolent man.”

However, it was too late to stop for Master Hornbill, not that he planned to. So seeing Sylvester static, he aimed and set loose the arrow.

Woosh!

“It hit!” Master Hornbill cheered, his face sweating under the desert heat.

Sylvester didn’t fall, however, and stayed standing while the arrow was implanted into his right arm’s muscles. He didn’t let it hurt him much but ensured some blood came out.

“Argh!” he acted of being hurt.

Then, as Master Hornbill was aiming again, Sylvester roared. “This heathen! Arrest this man!”

Woosh!

Just like how the arrow came, now Felix, Gabriel, and Sir Dolorem appeared and took down all these guards with ease as they were just some simple Black Knights. In contrast, Master Hornbill was a nobody, even below a Black Knight.

“Who are you? Brigands? What do you want?” Hornbill sneered at them, unaware of his situation.

Sylvester pulled the arrow out of his arm and showed the church’s insignia locket around his neck, usually worn by clergy. “You dare harm the envoy of the Holy Land? This is punishable by death!”

The sense of fear, chills, and vibrations on the tongue was all Sylvester felt in return. It was clear the man had understood the gravity of his situation.

“Y-You trapped me in this?” Hornbill accused, clearly not as dumb as one would think. “I will tell the Baron!”

But before he could run away, Felix jumped and tackled him down from horseback, not holding back his weight at all. “Where are you going now, mad dog? It’s time we finally put you down.”

“Let me go!” He tried to fight back.

Sylvester looked around and noticed the villagers peeking out from behind the trees and looking in fear. “Don’t worry, I am from Holy Land, and the village shall not suffer any longer. Return to your homes, for tonight we hold this man’s trial.”

“What about them?” Gabriel asked about the guards.

Sylvester didn’t care for them either. “I will question them later. If they’re doing it as a job, then I’m fine, but if they are doing it because they like it—then off their head goes.”

Hearing about the beheading, Master Hornbill started crying and cursing. “You bastards, the Baron will stop you… just let the words reach him.”

Felix burst into chuckles. “Pfft… you think a mere baron scares us? Fool, just a month ago, we erased a Count’s entire family from existence in the Ironstone Duchy.”

No more words were spoken, and the man was thrown into the cage carriage that brought his prey before. Now, the predator had become the prey—the best case of karma on display.

However, Sylvester had to travel slowly as the villagers needed to walk back. But the four ensured the people had enough water to drink with their magic.

‘Markus was probably the first or one of the few people with wizarding talent in this area.’ he thought during the march back.

As they reached the outskirts of the village, Sylvester noticed a large crowd of people nervously standing there, likely awaiting the return of their loved ones. Today was going to be a happy day for them as no one had died.

Sylvester didn’t stop and entered the village on horseback. For this occasion, he had tied Master Hornbill with a rope to the back of his saddle. The man was being dragged on the dry sandy road, crying with each bump.

The people parted ways and saw Sylvester going toward the Monastery. So they also followed and soon gathered around the rundown house of god.

But before that, he looked back at his companions. “Felix and Sir Dolorem, you two go to this noble’s house and pillage it! For there is no greater retribution—than some wealth redistribution!”

“Don’t start without me,” Felix requested.

“Don’t worry. I’m just a bard—so you’ll be the one swinging sword.”

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