I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

"Then—Let me kiss you once!"

Fernis' eyes glittered under the sunlight streaming through the windows. She was fixated on his face, particularly his lips. Her legs, straddling his lap, tightened as she awaited Sylvester's response.

'This does not seem like a honeytrap,' Sylvester concluded, having executed many honeytraps in his previous life on the wives of generals and politicians. 'Does she genuinely desire this? But why?'

Sylvester pondered his options. His work in Masan was far from complete. The Princess supported him and was the reason he resided within the castle. If she stopped fantasizing about him, he might be expelled.

'She is too impulsive for me to predict her reaction to rejection. Perhaps allowing her to indulge in her fantasies will be helpful.'

Sylvester remained silent but nodded slightly. He felt no attraction towards her, yet she was an important pawn in the larger scheme.

Fenris took his slight nod as approval and pressed her face on Sylvester. She attempted to be intimate, but all she received in return was a stoic Sylvester with his lips firmly sealed like a wall of concrete.

Her heart sank instantly, and she pulled her lips away. She moved off his lap and sat on the couch. "So you feel nothing for me? Nothing at all? Am I…not pretty enough?"

Sylvester gazed at her and, for the first time, willingly took her hand in his. He looked at her face with a slightly softened expression before speaking. "Princess, you are incredibly beautiful, and any man would be fortunate to win your affection. However, look at me—a nameless slave turned knight. I possess no land, wealth, or power, unlike you, a princess of a mighty Empire. We are not destined to have any relationship beyond that of a master and associate."

She didn't cry and just pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face between them, concealing her expression. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have touched you like that… I'm just… frustrated."

'She is smarter than what she lets out. The downfall of the empire must be clear to her eyes.' Sylvester theorized and inched closer to her. Yes, he couldn't offer her love, but he could provide her warmth and perhaps leave a stronger impression in her mind, one that would ensure her loyalty.

He held her by his shoulder, almost embracing her and yet refraining. He said nothing and allowed her to shed tears slowly. It was confusing because he knew she wasn't sad about her brother dying. Instead, there was something more to her, something much deeper and greater weighing on her mind.

She sniffled. "Y-You should leave. You have work, you mentioned."

Gently, he distanced himself from her and wore his helmet and faceplate again. "Until later, Princess."

Resuming his role as her personal guard, he saluted her and departed from the chamber. He entered his own quarters and discovered Miraj sitting on the bed, playing. Clutched between his paws were a few of his beloved shiny pebbles and a ball of yarn.

"Chonky, let's go. We have work today." He called him.

"Really?!" Miraj leapt up and eagerly perched on Sylvester's shoulder. "I was getting so bored here. You never take me along. I want to see the grand castle too."

Sylvester squished Miraj's face and took him along. "You're too adorable for this world to handle, Chonky. I don't want to destroy the world now."

"Hehe…" Miraj giggled shyly and settled on Sylvester's helmet.

…

The Crown Prince had fulfilled his destined role. Successfully, Sylvester had used him to poison the Emperor, Empress, Magistrate General, and Grand Primer. Although, only the Emperor had begun to show clear signs of madness.

Three days after the massacre in the Southern City, the Crown Prince took his last breath. Unable to heal his extremely wounded body from the inside, the healers were helpless.

Boom!

Boom!

One hundred cannon shots reverberated throughout Marashia as the Crown Prince's body rested upon the pyre. Saint Cardinal Aurora herself conducted the final rituals, reciting prayers and igniting the pyre.

Amidst hundreds of tearful faces, genuine tears were shed by only a few. The Emperor was a shattered, deranged wreck, while the Empress had simply become empty in her mind. Fernis also displayed a few tears, while Jinn, the second prince, remained stoic. As for the concubines and their children, their hearts were filled with happiness. After all, in Masan, each deceased prince meant reduced competition for resources and wealth.

After the cremation, the ashes were collected in a vessel for remembrance and handed over to the Emperor.

Just like that, the future of Masan was ruined, but only time would tell what the long-term effects would be.

…

Holy Land,

Amidst the internal turmoil that finally slowed down after Pope's personal meddling, the war continued to get bloodier and stretched. The supply lines to the soldiers in Beastaria were constantly under pressure from pirates and enemy navies. The Dragons were formidable flying fortresses of destruction, and they proved to be the most challenging adversaries.

However, with all the Church's Grand Wizards engaged in war, they somehow managed. The Pope's strategy was not to engage in direct warfare but to make it a slow and long process. They aimed to take over one village or town at a time, showing kindness and brainwashing the people to accept the faith of Solis as their own.

After all, their ultimate goal was not only to achieve victory but also to spread the Faith of Solis throughout the entire heathen land.

However, in the land of grand schemes and politics, hidden plots were everpresent. Sometimes, those plots came from outside, and sometimes from the backyard itself.

"Act natural, and if anyone stops you, simply greet them in their customary manner. Remember, we're heading to the administration building to report to King Highland. My name is no longer Elgun. I am Hans. You are Kenny, James, and Orion. If caught, you know what to do."

"Understood, commander."

"Yes, priest."

"That's right. We're all priest now. Let's go."

Four men, all standing tall at six feet with lean builds, walked towards the Guild Peninsula of the Holy Land. Their hair was short, and it was either black or blonde. They appeared like any other members of the Clergy.

Although security had been tightened, the war had caused a shortage of manpower for street patrols. This made it easier for the four of them to reach the small port and board a ferry to the Guild Peninsula.

The Guild Peninsula was now more bustling than ever. Since the church was unable to take on many of the quests that arrived there, freelancers were allowed to do the job. All sorts of shops and guilds were thriving in the war economy. With war production at its peak, the internal economy was never better in the past.

Even though they had to sell their products to the Holy Land at low prices, the Holy Land was not cruel enough to make them suffer losses. So, even though small, the combined profits were substantial.

Soon, the four men reached the Guild Peninsula and made their way to the largest sick bay on the peninsula. Wearing their Clergymen uniforms, none questioned them. However, going further was not going to be easy.

"You three, keep staff busy. I will go inside." The leader among them ordered and confidently walked into the administrative wing of the sick bay.

Other than a few healers and Bright Mothers, there was no soldier present. Even the clergymen were all of the priest levels, and they were all office staffers.

"Stop, you can't enter there!" Suddenly, a Bright Mother called out to the man. "I am the Superintendent's assistant. Who are you? Do you have an appointment?"

"I don't need any."

Woosh!

Out of nowhere, a root emerged from the ground where the Bright Mother stood and pierced into her ankle. Instantly, she fell to the floor, her eyes wide and rolling back into her head.

With that, he had free access to enter the door before him. He straightened his clothes and calmly walked inside.

It was a large room; half of it was divided into an informal sitting area with a low-height table and couches around, while the other half was a proper office with a large, polished table topped with files, books, and more. Adjacent to the walls were bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, holding thousands of books.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

Just then, a warm, soft voice echoed in the room. The man glanced at the woman seated behind the table. Wearing the clothes of the Bright Mother, she appeared unimpressive, but her face exuded vitality, and her beauty was unmistakable, accentuated by her red, silky hair and blue eyes.

"Bright Mother Xavia Maximilian?" The man interrogated.

"Yes, and who might you be?"

The man hurriedly approached the table. "I am Elgun Skrilon—Commander of the stealth warriors of Alfia. We are here under the order of King Rathagun Xeek Eldaron!"

Thud!

Xavia abruptly stood up, causing her chair to fall back with a sound. She took a few steps backward, retreating towards the bookshelves. Fear filled her eyes as she wondered why the elves had come.

"W-What do you want?"

"You, Bright Mother. We want to take y—"

BOOM!

Not even able to finish his sentence, a sudden boom reverberated throughout the vast room. Both Xavia and the elf were taken aback as the windows on the wall began to shatter.

Thud!

Simultaneously, the bookshelves toppled forward, creating a massive storm of dust that obscured visibility.

However, it didn't take long for everything to become clear. An ambush had arrived—mighty, towering men armed to the teeth with the finest armor, red capes, and razor-sharp blades. They poured in through the windows and from behind the bookshelves, their eyes shining red with rage.

"You elven filth!" they roared in unison, shaking the very ground beneath them. "You dare plot against our beloved Bright Mother! To allow you to leave alive would be a sin against the blessed soul of the great bard!"

Woosh!

All the blades aimed at the elf's head while a few men rushed forward to shield Xavia with their bodies. Then the commander of the men bellowed.

"My brothers, my finest Inquisitors—Let's give a perfect welcome to these unholy visitors!"

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