I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

Duke Daemon was a talented and wise man who knew a few things about warfare. His idea to keep the enemy on edge the whole night was brilliant. But he failed to realise that if he considered himself a schemer, Sylvester was worse--a scum.

Both sides knew that attacking the enemy at night was not good. Because if the other side retaliated, then it would lead to a messy situation.

But what if the attack is committed by a bunch of undead? Who can be blamed if, in the middle of the night, because of ominous luck, some creatures of the night attacked a random camp in the middle of nowhere?

Could Duke Daemon blame anyone? No, all he could do was stand on the terrace of his double-story tent and look at the chaos as his soldiers ran around, trying to either kill the undead or run away because they were scared.

Gritting his teeth, he could only hope that the sun would rise quicker so that he could fix the mess and prepare for the war.

...

A few kilometres away, in Sylvester's camp, the men slept happily with no more sudden loud horns. Sylvester was there, and they knew his light was brighter than the enemy's fire. Of course, they overestimated him, but Sylvester didn't care. He was happy as long as his cult could keep expanding.

"Get some rest now, Felix. We are going to have a long day tomorrow. Some of us might even get gravely injured, but let's hope we win." Sylvester put down a thin layer of bedding in the large tent for commanders and rested.

Felix was sitting nearby, sharpening his sword and humming some hymn that Sylvester wrote. "Max, you're an Archwizard already, right?"

Sylvester nodded, not saying anything, as he was stuck in the middle of Master and Archwizard rank because of the accident with Shadow Knight. He could certainly use the magic of an Archwizard's level, but it hurt him every single time.

"Then, are you going to ask for another promotion upon return? Because as far as I know, Archwizards are usually folks of Archbishop and even Cardinal rank. Bishop is already too low for you." Felix elaborated.

Sylvester rested down and put a thin layer of blanket on himself while tucking Miraj by his side. "I will surely ask them for a promotion, but I don't know if they will allow it. I have not seen a Bishop as young as me. I'm only about to turn eighteen--while Bishops out there can go between forty to even a hundred."

At that, Lady Aurora also chimed in, not asleep yet. "If we win this, then they will most likely promote you. You are the shiniest example of the perfect man of faith, after all. The more people know about you, the more people will join the faith as a clergy or a soldier--Now go to sleep."

Sylvester sighed and closed his eyes. Ever since he found out about the Pope's involvement behind the reason the Shadow Knight was after him, he was not very optimistic about his career anymore. He didn't even know if the higher-ups were interested in promoting him.

'Well, as long as I play my cards right in the shadows, I'm sure I can rule the world without even becoming the Pope fast. After all, the one who controls the money rules the world.'

...

The sleep didn't last too long, though. Sylvester woke up early in the morning before the sun had even shown a trace. He woke Lady Aurora up and took her far behind the camp where no one could see them, not even the scouts from the Duke.

"So, why did you bring me here?" She asked, yawning and rubbing her sleepy eyes.

Sylvester didn't reply and walked to five carts that were suspiciously left in the middle of the large fields. They had something on the back, but it was covered with a canvas.

Woosh!

Sylvester pulled one canvas and showed the item on the cart. It was like fine sand and white. "We must throw all this into the sky, above the clouds."

Lady Aurora, intrigued, tasted it. "Salt? Why do you want salt in the sky?"

Sylvester smirked. "To make it rain, Aurora. Sprinkling salt on the clouds can make it rain. That's what I need to win this battlefield--at least in the first phase."

Lady Aurora was not sure about that, though. She had never heard of such a magical phenomenon. "Using magic to make the clouds rain is already hard enough, and you're saying salt can get the job done?"

"Trust me... it will rain, especially with the clouds we have up there now," Sylvester assured and got to work by pulling off the canvas from the rest of the carts. "Now, how can we throw this salt into the clouds?"

Lady Aurora didn't question anymore and seriously wondered. "Hmm, maybe I can throw it with my hand by making a ball out of them, but it would take too much time. We can also use the whirling storm move to create a tornado to take this salt above. But that would attract attention."

Lady Aurora went to the cart and tried to lift the entire thing. Of course, it was barely an inconvenience. She lifted it over her head and even did a few sit-ups.

"I can surely throw it up into the sky, but not enough to reach the clouds. Perhaps your light steps can help me. Take me as high as you can, Sylvester."

Sylvester obliged and created the tiles. Though it was hard for him this time as the increased weight meant he'd deplete more solarium. But thankfully, he had many crystals left and didn't worry about losing too much energy.

Slowly but surely, they walked into the sky. Sylvester had to carefully create a mist around themselves to ensure nobody saw the shining rectangles in the sky. Soon, they reached enough height that Lady Aurora felt confident.

"Alright, hold the tile. I will throw this cart into the sky and then shoot a broad and fast gust of wind to sprinkle it everywhere." She instructed and slightly crouched to build up the momentum.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Boom!

She jumped and pushed the cart into the sky. Then, with a sharp hum, the cart soon disappeared into the atmosphere.

Woosh!

Lady Aurora then launched a gust of wind, effectively destroying it and sprinkling everything. Then she landed back on the light tile and clapped her hands clean. "One done, four more to go."

Sylvester looked at Lady Aurora in pity. "Actually... there are four more farm fields with five carts each."

"..."

...

It was certainly not a fine morning for Sylvester and Lady Aurora. They were tired from all the work early in the morning. But they were satisfied when the rain heavily graced the land, drenching the soil first of its thirst and then flooding it, turning it into soft mud.

Sir Hans strangely looked at Sylvester during the war meeting. "How did you know it would rain, my lord? You ordered the men to wear light armour."

The man was a battle commander, for sure. He knew where to place the men, what strategy to use, and how to manage the large armies of tens of thousands. But with Sylvester, he was seeing a new style of warfare that relied more on pre-war indirect activities than direct planning.

In his old, polished golden armour, Sylvester folded his arms and proudly smiled. "Who said it was natural rain, Sir Hans? But, I won't tell you how I did it--that's my personal secret. But now we have an advantage. As long as the commoner soldiers, carpenters and enchanters do their job right; we won't have to suffer due to the enemy's large numbers."

"This is brilliant. Absolutely masterful planning, Lord Bard. Having seen you since you were merely a month old, you have certainly grown very well." Sir Hans praised in awe and worship. After all, he was one of the few Inquisitors who were present when Sylvester delivered his first sermon.

Bam!

Felix slammed his fist on the table. "But we can't let him go there alone! This is madness!"

Sylvester reasoned. "I am not going to enter their camp, Felix. Instead, I plan to be close to it, enough that the men in their camp can hear my hymns and see me shine--as I deliver them perhaps their last look at something divine."

"Why? What if someone shot an arrow at you?" Felix asked.

"That's why I'm taking you with me, my friend."

"..."

Felix shut up, and Sylvester chuckled. "Hah, don't take it to heart, Felix. Bringing Lady Aurora or Sir Hans might make them feel threatened. So, I need you to watch my back as I try to raise fear of the god among the soldiers--maybe some of them will question their choice as they prepare for war."

Sir Arnold agreed with Sylvester. "It should spread some fear. I do not believe all those twenty thousand men know who they are trying to fight."

Sylvester then looked at Gabriel and Isabella. "Did you prepare what I asked for?"

Isabella nodded. "I have the donated blood prepared, my lord. Once you bring me the wounded, I can easily cure the lost blood through the needle and the pipe system you developed. I'm sure it will save many men."

"True." Gabriel started. "I have prepared the minor healing potion, two thousand litres--as you asked. But I fear that we might run out of blood."

Sylvester rubbed his chin and looked towards the north, in the direction the enemy army was settled. "Hmm... Sir Arnold and Sir Hans, you two are the overall commanders. I need you to tell the men that if it's viable--without endangering their own lives--they are to take any enemy soldier that surrenders in the name of the lord. Also, bring the wounded enemies--if there is no one from our side in need of help.

"Once here, we shall arrest them. Then, Isabella, you can take blood from them as well. But only treat the enemies with the least priority--first shall come our brothers of Inquisition."

All heads nodded in agreement, and Sylvester picked up his helmet to move out. "Remember my command. Let the men wear their heavy armour until moments before we start the push. Don't let the enemies see we're prepared for the rain."

"Understood, Lord Bard." Sir Hans agreed instantly, already impressed by Sylvester.

With that, Sylvester placed his spear on his back and mounted his horse. But before he left to speak with Duke Daemon, he eyed every member seriously. "If they attack me--go berserk!"

Thump!

They all saluted with their palms slamming onto their chests. No jokes anymore, for they knew this time they spent was the mere silence before the storm. It was time for them to show for what they were born.

Echoes of chants roared, like waves in the ocean, ever increasing.

"May the holy light enlighten us!"

"May the holy light enlighten us!"

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