I Became The Pope, Now What?

Sylvester held the parchment in hand and read in silence before allowing others to read it, as he wanted to ensure that there was no problematic information about him in it.

'I'm sure you'll be the one reading this letter first, Sylvester Maximilian, Bard of the Lord. What a strange title to have, but at the same time, so prestigious. I wish we had met in different circumstances, but since we serve the interests of two different sides, this would have always been the natural outcome.

'Truth be spoken, I aimed to destroy the two duchies entirely, and I was merely a few months away from reaching my target. Total destruction as the two sides foolishly hired mercenaries from the west.

'Foolish they were, hence people like us can rise through the ranks so easily, Lord Bard. But I accept the only one to come close to finding me out so fast was you, and I hold my head low in respect. Young and yet so wise—the future will be exciting with you as a player, not a pawn, in the great game of ever-present political and power struggles.

'But I'm sure there is much for you to learn about the ugly side of things. For that, I wish you luck, and we shall meet again if fate will. Perhaps this time knowingly opposing the other.

'Until then, stay strong and keep chanting. I genuinely love your hymns. Please keep that book of hymns on my table safely. Unfortunately, I couldn't find space to store it. But I cherish it as I personally copied it with my hands.

'May the light enlighten our paths.'

Sylvester sighed and turned the page around as there was more. 'By the way, I am not the one behind the murders of those women and cutting their chests. I am but an opportunistic man; I found one and used it to spread fear.

'I know who is behind it. But watching you run around trying to find the culprit is more fun. Good luck, Blessed Bard... let's see if you can save Gracia from annihilation by its own hands—for the darkness this time lies within the house of light.'

There was no name on the page. Of course, why would a spy reveal his real name to him or anyone else? But the last words spooked him a little. 'What does he mean by the house of light? Is someone from the Holy Land responsible? No! I can't take his words seriously… he could be playing with me again.'

Sylvester looked at the book of hymns on the table and couldn't help but marvel at the man. 'He did not even lie to me once during our various meetings. He truly was a cripple, but for a time only. He truly cherished the Countess, likely as a sister. He crafted his entire life so that everything he did was the honest truth. I couldn't smell out his schemes fast enough without him even knowing I could do such a thing. What a fantastic spy.'

"What is it, Max?" Felix asked him, unable to keep his interest in check.

"Read it yourself." He handed him the letter as it didn't contain anything too controversial.

Felix started reading it loud so Gabriel, Lady Aurora and Bishop Lazark could also hear it. The whole letter was not too long and only took him three minutes to complete.

"So you have a new admirer?" Bishop Lazark added.

Sylvester shook his head. As bizarre as it sounded, yes, he now had a new admirer. "Look at the other side. I am more worried about that even if there is an ounce of truth in his words."

Lady Aurora frowned after hearing what was behind it. "This means the murders are not a part of the conspiracy? Who is doing it, then?"

"Let's hope Sir Dolorem finds some answers," Sylvester muttered. "Let's return outside now. I'm sure Count Jartel needs our support as well. After all, the man lost everything in a single day."

They all agreed and left the room. It was unknown what effect the war would have on the Duchy in the long run, but it was certain that the artificial wealth due to traders swarming in from the west would be gone now.

Sylvester then went to see Duke Grimton and his granddaughter's condition. It was also late at night, and soon he'd need to perform the last rites of the dead.

'I hope Sir Dolorem gets me something valuable at least.'

…

Green City, Grand Monastery, the capital of Gracia Kingdom.

"Ugh…"

"Sir Dolorem! Wake up!"

"Hmm?"

"Can you hear me, Sir Dolorem?"

"Sylvester?"

"It's Bishop Charlie White! We served together years back in the north! Remember?"

Sir Dolorem slowly opened his eyes and looked at the familiar face from old times. A white man with ashen hair, a beard, blue eyes and a muscular build. "C-Charlie?"

Sir Dolorem felt pain throughout his body as he tried to get up and sit. He realised he was in a large room with intricate engravings on the ceiling and walls. The windows were open, and a cool breeze was coming in, fluttering the white cotton curtains.

"Easy there, my brother in faith." Bishop Charlie helped him sit up. "They shot you with an arrow dipped in brain-paralysing poison. It would have put you into an eternal coma if not for the famed princess Isabella Gracia coming to treat you herself. She was able to extract the venom out of your pores, but the pain will take time to go away."

Sir Dolorem looked at his palm. Even though he was a black man, his skin seemed shockingly pale at the moment. "Who did it? And inside the Green City? How could this happen?"

Embarrassingly, Bishop Charlie shared the same feeling. "The entire city has been in lockdown since you fell two days ago. They are searching every nook and cranny to find the heathen. But it's like searching for a needle in a haystack. They don't know what to look for in a city of seven hundred thousand that never sleeps."

"It has to be related to my work. I was looking for a-"

Knock! Knock!

The room's door opened, and multiple men in Gracia Royal armour entered. The armour was plated with silver and gold from head to toe and had various engravings made of molten green-coloured silver. And there was also a green cape at the back.

"Bishop, can you give us a moment? We need to take Sir Dolorem's testimony." A white, old, bald man with a majestic white moustache spoke as he took off his helmet.

"Of course, Lord Commander." Bishop quickly left and stood outside the room.

Then the old man sat beside Sir Dolorem's bed and introduced himself. "I am Sir Winston Lennox, Lord Commander of Gracia Royal Knights. I am personally handling the assassination attempt on you as per his majesty's wish. I wish to know a few important details if you may agree to share them."

Sir Dolorem noticed the rank plate on the old man's chest. It was silver in colour with five distinct crystal-like rectangular lines on it. The man was a Diamond Knight from the looks of it, and it made sense considering the job.

"Of course, Lord Commander. I hope to get the perpetrators caught too."

"Then do you have any guesses on who and why someone would try to kill you?" Lord Commander asked.

Sir Dolorem realised they had no idea what he did as a job. "It's likely due to my work and the current assignment. I am the aide to Archpriest Sylvester Maximilian, Sanctum Inspector, Bard of the Lord and candidate for God's Favoured."

The Lord Commander straightened his back and looked at four other armed knights at the back, and nodded.

Thud!

The door was soon shut, and the Lord Commander turned serious as if he realised this was a higher profile case than it already was. "What is this assignment that you suspect is the reason?"

Sir Dolorem stared into the man's eyes and noticed a sudden change in the aura. Sylvester had taught him for years how to read people and learn what the other one may be thinking from their body language.

'Why is he agitated?'

"We are… trying to solve the murder of Count Jartel's wife. And a… a knight from this city is behind it, as the clues have revealed. The name of the knight is…"

'His pupils have contracted.'

"Sir Kenw…"

"Hold this man tight!"

Bam!

Clunk!

The Lord Commander boomed loudly and jumped to his feet, taking out his sword from the sheath. The other four knights ran around the bed to hold Sir Dolorem's arms and legs.

"You're all involved?!" Sir Dolorem bellowed and tucked his legs up.

"Hold him!" Lord Commander aimed to cut Sir Dolorem in half.

But Sir Dolorem was not a weakling.

"Argh! My eye!"

Just as a knight reached to the bed's left, Sir Dolorem pulled out a dagger from underneath his pillow and vigorously stabbed into the knight's eyes, turning him not just blind, but brain dead as the blade pierced deep amidst the wet sounds.

"You will burn! Heathens!" Sir Dolorem roared and ran towards the open window, and without wasting a moment, he divided out of it.

It didn't matter that the room was five floors above the ground, for he was also a wizard.

Thud!

Sir Dolorem used air elemental magic to make his landing softer as he fell on the street. However, he was still in his medical gown, so he had to make it quick and find armour because he had just realised the city's lockdown was not to catch the culprit but to ensure he couldn't escape.

He ran towards an alleyway and disappeared into the darkness. In his hand was the same dagger he used to blind that knight. On its hilt was carved the number 109, the number of his first Inquisitor Unit.

He smiled and kept running. "Thank you, Charlie."

'I need to rush back to Sylvester! It seems we have come too close to a hornet's nest… a nest too valuable to someone in a high place—Could it be King Gracia?'

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