I Became The Pope Now What Chapter 698

[ … words ]

“You were punished for speaking carelessly before and sent here, and yet you continue to commit the same thing.” Sylvester didn’t greet the Cardinal warmly. “I thought Saint Wazir sent you to some backwater Duchy or city.”

“Hecesy?” Cardinal Morgan looked at Sylvester confusedly with great reverence.

“Peculiar,” King Kaecilius muttered, seeing the exchange. “He must be good at his work to be sent to a kingdom’s capital.”

Sylvester nodded with a deep sigh. “He’s just one rank away from becoming a Grand Wizard. In a way, he’s being nurtured to become a Grand Wizard and soon join the ranks of Guardians. It’s only his slip of the tongue that’s making me question it.”

“Ah!” Morgan realized just then. “I said the sinful again?”

“He’s been told to avoid using words with ‘R’ in them,” Sylvester muttered and greeted the Cardinal. He didn’t hate the man, after all. It was likely a mental or physical condition that made him like that.

“Youc Holiness!” Morgan was rather unusual and jumped in to hug Sylvester like the young man was his father. “Youc devotee pays cespect.”

“Alright, alright.” Sylvester patted his shoulder since he was also a tall man. Even muscular and rugged-looking with his folded sleeves. “Let’s go now. His Majesty has organized entertainment for us. I have other things to discuss with you at the same time.”

“Undecstood.”

After that, Sylvester followed Kaecilius to sit down at the lunch table’s longer side, with him being given the middle and bigger seat. It was understandable since he was higher than a King at the current stage.

Paaa!

As soon as they began eating lunch, trumpets and loud drums started booming. A moment later, a group of dwarves entered—not real dwarves, but humans who were born utterly short. They came in wearing various costumes, from Clergymen to commoners, nobles, and even armored knights.

“Haaa!” An armored dwarven man came in on the back of a pig with a lance in his hands. Then came another, and both went to the wide side of the hall and faced each other. There were ten of them in total, so the rest took the positions of spectator commoners, a king and queen, and one announcer.

“Hear, hear—Sir Shortwood and Sir Littletoes shall joust for the hand of the princess,” the announcer shouted.

Soon after, the mock jousting took place rather professionally. However, the aim was comedy, so they fell from their pigs, and even got attacked by the same pigs. There was even a story to their whole little play. After one of the short knights won and came to give flowers to the princess, the princess demanded a joust as well.

“Princess Thickfinger challenges Sir Littletoes!”

And so the female dwarven woman got on top of a pig and won, then went to the audience and proposed to a commoner boy there. It was a play, and there was a lot of stumbling around, self-deprecating jokes, fart jokes, and so on.

Sylvester didn’t laugh seeing all that, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying it. Every time one of the dwarf men or women fell from a pig, the laughs were almost hysterical. When the King got slapped by the princess, the audience clapped.

Soon, the play came to an end, and Kaecilius gifted a few silver coins to the jester troupe. By then, the lunch also came to an end.

“It seems the entertainment wasn’t to your enjoyment, Your Holiness,” Kaecilius said.

Sylvester nodded, not keeping his thoughts hidden. “It felt dehumanizing, Kaecilius. But I don’t blame you for not knowing better. This is just the norm of this world, to laugh at another’s misery. I prefer listening to simple bards, or musicians perform.”

After finishing up, they began heading to King’s Solar again, to sit down and discuss a few more things about the Kingdom and the nobles.

But as they walked from one massive hall to another, and then to a hallway, Sylvester noticed the same dwarf jesters packing their luggage to head to another place. He noticed a particular young girl among them who had played the role of princess, sitting at the side on the stairs alone, hands clenched together and staring at her colleagues packing luggage.

There was melancholy in her eyes, and he could feel the scent of emptiness from that far away.

“Tell them to wait in the castle. Invite them to have dinner with me tonight—all of them. Show them good rooms to rest, and give them new clothes, I shall pay for it,” Sylvester gave Jeremiah Freeman, the King’s Prima, orders.

Jeremiah glanced at Kaecilius and received a nod to do as the Pope had ordered. In a way, Kaecilius was also interested in knowing what Sylvester wanted. As a faithful follower of the religion, he believed in Sylvester, but as a king, he felt his duty towards the people was as much as to the faith—Sylvester was not the king, but an outsider instead.

There was respect, but also a healthy dose of skepticism, he believed.

Sylvester didn’t bother reacting to the doubtful scents the King he had chosen was producing. Silently, he went to the solar on the top floor of one of the towers.

“Y-Your Holiness?!”

Sylvester saw Gabriel sitting in the solar alone. “You’re late.”

Gabriel grunted and stood up to salute. “I… I had to inspect a few monasteries on the way. I just arrived in the city. How long have you been here?”

“Since morning.”

“…”

At that moment, Gabriel began regretting making fun of Sylvester’s inability to fly. He hated traveling in the carriages since it made his back hurt and his ass sore. Not all of the roads were paved and smoothened yet, even less so of those leading to distant monasteries.

“I was also called to a crime scene as soon as I entered the city. They said I was the highest-ranking Clergyman in the city to manage something like that.” Gabriel reported what he had been up to. “Apparently, someone killed more than a dozen or high nob—”

When he noticed the smiles on Sylvester’s and Kaecilius’s faces, he knew there was no point in telling them anything. He was standing in front of the damn culprits.

“Why?”

“Heresy,” Sylvester blurted.

“Ah, understandable.” Gabriel sighed and took his seat again. “Even the Duke?”

“Especially the Duke,” Sylvester answered and sat down beside him. “They were running a secret tavern for the rich where flesh was sold. Their death was just the beginning of the end of their bloodlines and legacy. In any case, Kaecilius, if you wish to get rid of nobility, try to implement a system similar to the one I proposed in the Blackhart Kingdom.

“Bi-yearly examinations for Civil Services; Use governors appointed by the rank, hierarchy, and experience, transfer them periodically to keep the corruption in check. And in case of wrongdoing, demote them, remove them, kill them. This worked like a charm in Blackhart, and the people are particularly happy since they don’t have to pay brutally high taxes to their feudal lord who only hoards it.”

“But it will take time.” Jeremiah involved himself. “I have been to the south and seen the system there. While it is better in terms of being just and clean, it gives rise to sloppiness and slowness in justice.”

Sylvester eyed the man with some repulsion. “What do you suggest then? Letting nobles do whatever they want? Tell me, Lord Prima, why is it that crimes against children are so common in this world? You can answer it too, Kaecilius.”

“Weakness?” Kaecilius suggested. “They cannot protect themselves.”

“True, but whose responsibility is it to protect them?” Sylvester asked back.

“Adults, the powerful.” Kaecilius looked down in shame. “Mine.”

“Exactly! But those meant to protect are the ones who exploit them. An adult man or woman can shout when they are wronged, but when a child is wronged, they are ignored and shoved aside as low priority—that is how evil is born, Keacilius. That is how you get anti-Light and all the other violent anti-establishment groups.

Wronged, and nobody there to listen to their cries—You are this Kingdom’s father, regardless of people’s age. Act like one.” Sylvester stood up after saying that much. “I am the Pope. It’s not my place to lecture you. But I suggest you forget your status as a King and remind yourself of your roots—your struggle as a slave.”

Kaecilius silently stared as Sylvester left the room; behind him, Cardinal Morgan and Saint Wazir Gabriel also left. Finally, alone, the King looked at his Prima.

“You got me scolded by the Pope.”

“I was merely pointing out the setbacks, Your Majesty.”

“Doing that without a better plan to suggest is what fools do. Quickly go and call Elder Markson and Lorenzo. The two Grand Wizards will head the new task force I am making to address every child’s cry in this Kingdom. No matter what, His Holiness was right… I am a father, and I should act like one.” Kaecilius ordered, remembering the child that he lost during his struggling days.

There was more meaning to Sylvester’s words. He understood that much.

…

Eventually, night came, and Sylvester sat down to have dinner with the team of dwarf jesters. They all looked clean and neatly combed, and the female among them even put on some makeup. But they were never told who they’d be eating dinner with.

“P-P-Phooooo…” The eldest of them could only exhale a breath, instead of his name.

“Your Majesty!”

Gabriel coughed quickly and corrected them. “The Pope is addressed as His Holiness.”

“Ah! Forgive us for this heresy!” The troupe of ten knelt down quickly. “We lack the etiquettes of nobles, Your Holiness.”

Sylvester smiled and clapped his hands, inviting them all to the table. “Don’t be so scared. Come and join me for dinner. Sit beside me and share your adventures. I’m sure you have traveled a great many places.”

Just then, it dawned on them that it was the Pope who invited them. So they introduced themselves quickly.

First was the oldest one, who took a seat beside him. “I am Henzo, Your Holiness.”

“I am Polly,”

“I’m Unix,”

“Nobby,”

One by one, they all introduced themselves and took their seats. The servants came soon after, and the feast began. It was certainly the first time the ten of them were being treated like that. With a lot of tension and hesitation, they ate as silently as possible, chewing with their mouths closed.

But Sylvester noticed the girl beside him not eating. ‘There is some hope, but accompanied by the scent of emptiness. Just like you, my old friend Augustus.’

“Why are you not eating, Maddy?” Sylvester asked her.

She looked at Sylvester with narrow and emotional eyes. “Y-Your Holiness… All this will… Feel like a dream if I enjoy it too much.”

“I will be working tirelessly back in the Holy Land from tomorrow morning. I hate working too much, but everyone is bound by their duty, and one must fulfill it. Isn’t that the case?” Sylvester said, trying to make her open up.

But what he didn’t expect was for her outburst to be so meaningful. A reminder to him that his work was far from over in changing the world and bringing true peace.

“Why am I like this, Your Holiness? You must know, right?” Maddy cried as if she was recalling her whole life. “Your Holiness, in the world of mighty knights and wizards, it’s a sin to be born a weak dwarf, a human one at that. A peasant can farm and labor, but we… We are destined to make a fool of ourselves to earn our coin. I don’t wish for such a life, even for my enemies… it’s humiliating.”

Other members of the group also stopped eating and looked down at their full plates silently, holding their tears much better than Maddy.

Sylvester sighed and patted her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Your Holiness,” she apologized quickly, panicking. “I have ruined this auspicious occasion for all of us. One cannot fight fate. We can only play the hand life has dealt us.”

“It’s nonsense.” Sylvester blurted, shocking all of them.

“W-what?” Henzo, their leader, asked back, thinking he was mocking them.

“Fate, my brothers and sisters in faith… It’s nonsense.”

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[See Cardinal Morgan and Maddy]

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