I Became The Pope, Now What?

Sylvester walked around the camp and looked for a place to sit and write his letter. The sun was nearly set, and the warm night was looming. But the twin moons were shining very bright, so it didn't seem as dark.

The breeze was calm and soothing, and combined with the various small groups of the Inquisitors sitting together and singing; the night was very relaxing.

"Ah, what are you doing here alone?" Sylvester soon found Elyon sitting alone near the outskirts of the camp, where no particular noise reached. But the various insects played their music, which felt more relaxing.

Sylvester joined the man, sitting beside him on the soft grass. He took out a parchment and started writing the application for a promotion. Though he also talked with the Tiger Beastkin. "What's on your mind?"

Elyon kept staring at the moons with his big ferocious eyes. "Wondering where they are."

"Where they must be. They have fulfilled their destiny, Elyon. However long or short it was, they spent their reserved time in this world. We can never know what's to come in our lives, my friend. Even I don't know anything. Who knows, I might just die from something tomorrow, or I might not even wake up from sleep. Life is very unpredictable." Sylvester replied and kept writing.

"What am I to do now, lord bard? I'm confused." Elyon asked.

Sylvester blurted in reply. "Well, you can keep on living and waiting. One day, you will die too, when destiny sees it fit. But also know that it will never become easier just to forget your loved ones. Those memories will come to haunt you now and then. You can only accept them and live on."

There was silence after that as both men didn't speak anymore. Sylvester got busy writing about his heartfelt desire to become a Bishop so he could start focusing on his specialisation in magic. He wrote down all his achievements in it as well.

"Lord Bard." Elyon started again. "Have you lost someone too?"

At that, Sylvester's hands stopped, and he looked up. A short burst of light flashed in his eyes as he remembered everything so vividly. "Yes… Someone significant to me was taken away by a terrible fate. To this day, I remember everything clearly. Anyway, why don't you join me, Elyon? Become a Priest under my team. I can definitely use your talents and, perhaps, spread the word of Solis better among the Beastkins."

"Will the Holy Land accept me?" Elyon asked.

Sylvester didn't have a clear idea, but he shrugged. "Why won't they? The faith of Solis does not tell one to differentiate between species. As long as you're a follower of Solis—Nothing else matters."

Elyon looked at Sylvester seriously and asked. "What will be expected from me?"

"Nothing much. Just go on various assignments with me and help me complete them. You will be a part of my team." Sylvester explained. "My work is usually investigative in nature."

"Won't it cause a problem for you? Even if the faith tells us not to discriminate, we know the true reality." Elyon asked.

Sylvester shrugged and continued to write. "I have a necromancer in my team, Elyon. A beastkin won't make much difference. Besides, if I truly want to change and influence the world, I need different people to understand different perspectives. Think about it, Elyon. You have a few days to decide."

"I accept the offer." Elyon blurted without waiting. "If you're ready to take a leap of faith and add me to your team, then I have no reason to back down. You are perhaps—the most decent man of faith I've known. I see no harm in working with you."

Sylvester extended his palm. "Welcome to the club then, Elyon."

'And my cult.' He didn't say that part out loud.

….

The Holy Land and the Administration of the Gracia Kingdom were busy. The trial of the Duke and the Witch was to be held. But it was more of torture than a trial. What they wanted was to know everything that there was about the two, especially the Witch.

Soon, King Harold Gracia, Inquisitor High Lord, and other senior Cardinals from the Holy Land arrived at the Ironstone Duchy. All took testimonies of the Duke and the Duchess. The Duke confessed to knowing that his wife killed a few noble women. The Witch also confessed, but she and the Duke both denied knowing any Sir Kenworth or going after the wives of Count Jartel or Raftel. They denied going after King Riveria's daughter too.

The men from the church were fine with that and wanted to deal with the whole mess as fast as possible. So they set the dates of the private execution. The Witch was to be burned, and the Duke would be beheaded.

Though, Sylvester was interested in something, so he went to the dungeons of the castle and secretly hid behind the jail cell of the Duke. He wanted to hear the exchange between him and the current King Harold.

It was cold and dark in the dungeons. But, for Duke Daemon, it all didn't matter, for his eyes had been taken. Even his arms were gone, which had truly broken him to the point that he didn't even try to plead to be let go.

"Look what you did to yourself." A new voice came as footsteps stopped before the castle's jail cell. "Daemon, why did it have to come to this?"

Duke Daemon replied in a sneering voice while he remained in his seat. "Welcome, brother. Enjoying my misery? You finally got what you wanted all this time. I will be beheaded tomorrow."

Thud!

King Harold sat down, cross-legged. His voice cracked as he held the jail bars. "What stupidity are you blabbering? I never wanted any harm to come to you, Daemon. I loved you wholeheartedly. We're family, for God's sake. We have so many joyous memories as kids together.

"And, If I wanted to harm you, my armies would have marched on this land long ago."

"Oh, really?" Daemon shook his head as anger flared. "Then why did you send assassins to kill me? More than two hundred times in the past three years alone. If it were not for Uncle Maximus, I would be dead."

King Harold was taken aback, feeling confused. "What? Who sent the assassins? Why would I send any assassins? And you think it would take me 200 attempts to kill someone? I have the entire coffers of the Gracia at my disposal. I could have hired anyone to deal with you."

Daemon didn't believe him. "Then why did you remove me from the commerce department? I was the best master of commerce in the history of the Kingdom."

The King shook his head in disappointment. "It seems someone has sown the seeds of poison in your mind, and you couldn't see beyond a certain perspective. I didn't remove you… I promoted you. The entire Kingdom's biggest money maker is the Duchy of Ironstone. I wanted you to be the Duke and see that the duchy works even better and fills our coffers more."

There was silence after that. Duke Daemon couldn't even cry as his eyes, and the sockets were damaged. But he did wail vocally, feeling helpless and misguided. "Fuck! What about my wife? What happened to her? Did she say anything?"

King Harold added. "Brother, I feel you are blessed not to have eyes right now. That Witch was wearing a disguise in front of the world. In reality, she's a nine-foot-tall monstrosity. Imagine a rotten body with a demonic face. She was using you to conduct her unholy experiments, trying to create her clones. You were just a fool who fell for her fake looks… and she used you conveniently. She's from the Sand Continent—Darkbird is her name."

Thud!

Duke Daemon fell from his chair and crawled forward sloppily as he lacked arms. His voice shook as if he was terrified. "I… I messed up so badly. Did mother say anything about me?"

"Daemon, our mother passed away four days ago. It was peaceful and happened in her sleep."

"N-No! No…" Daemon cried vocally and fell back into his jail cell. "What about Isabella? Please tell me she's fine."

"I'm fine, brother." A feminine voice came, and Isabella walked up to the cell. "You were supposed to be the smartest! Why? Why didn't you hear me back then?"

Daemon faced down and shook his head. "I know, Bella. I have disappointed too many people with my actions. Only if I had sat down and thought about everything back then. It's clear there are things happening that we cannot see. Someone was shooting an arrow off my shoulder. Someone made this long elaborate plan, and sadly... they have won."

"What now?" Isabella asked, her grey eyes showing her fears clearly. "I don't want you to die."

But her elder brothers knew that the world does not work on wishes and pities. Every action has a reaction, and here, it was death.

Duke Daemon tapped his forehead on the jail bars, close to Isabella. "I must pay for these crimes, Isabella. If I don't, then the entire Gracia family will be doomed. I caused this mess, so let it be my head to end it."

"B-But! It's not even you who killed King Riveria's daughter! Or the Count's wife." She cried.

King Harold patted her back. "But the world thinks he did. So whoever was plotting behind the scenes has won the game without us even knowing. We have no way of proving that Daemon didn't do it. And the term of stopping the war is Daemon's head—King Riveria's words himself."

Isabella just cried at that and hugged Daemon's neck, and then Harold hugged them too.

The three were the last main members of the Gracia Bloodline. Soon, the number was supposed to fall further. They sobbed, together, in that dark, damp dungeon. They knew this doom was self-inflicted, so they had nothing to even defend themselves with.

This was their last chance to say their final goodbye to their brother. The pain of loss was high, as merely a few days ago, it was their mother.

Sylvester, who heard everything, stood up and silently left to let them have a moment in peace. 'Sorry, but the world is ruthless and unforgiving. A crime has been committed, and now you must pay the price. But who is Sir Kenworth? This is as if the man was a ghost.'

Sylvester soon walked to the open courtyard in the castle's backyard, where they had set up the stake to burn the Witch. Many members of the Clergy were present, waiting to see the Witch burn and seeth in her rage as her flesh melts.

Witches were usually burnt because they always revealed something when being burnt. And that revelation usually helped understand many mysteries. They expected to learn something new from her this time as well.

"Ah! Archpriest Sylvester, about time you came." Saint Seer greeted him expressionlessly. "I expected you to return. But don't worry about work. I will be taking the Duke's head to King Riveria and ending the war. You can rest."

'This fuck! Why is he lying now? Testing me? For what?'

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