I Became The Pope, Now What?



Sylvester sat there in the room, his face resting on his palm. His eyes remained closed, but his mind raged on with ideas, suspicions, and theories. He detested it because he lacked the information to come to any conclusion. 

Considering the fact that the names Gabriel suggested were all either famous monarchs, genocidal rulers, or great thinkers. It terrified him to even imagine who Saint Scepter was. Sylvester asked himself, who was he against? Which mastermind from history was he up to? And the biggest question was, what was all that for? Who was the Saint Scepter serving? 

Sylvester held no delusion that he was the greatest spy and thinker in the world. The Shadow of Masan had already proved it once. He didn't need to learn the same lesson twice. 

"This would mean Niel has no idea what he's doing. He may believe he's in control, but in reality—he's a pawn." Sylvester mumbled one thing he was sure of. "This would also mean I need to prepare for battle not with Niel but Saint Scepter… a likely Supreme Wizard." 

He felt his headache intensify but walked out to see the rest. It was important to delegate tasks to each person and prepare for the grand battle. The first goal was to take back the Holy Land, and for that, he had to lure Niel to himself.

"The more frustrated he becomes, the better for me. Perhaps it's time to introduce a few remarkable inventions from the Great Lord Bard." Sylvester made up his mind. 

He left the room and found everyone waiting outside. He was the key that was holding them all together in the holy war, and he had to act like a leader. In a sense, it was a test for him before he became the Pope. 

"Lord Inquisitor, you're more respected than any other Clergyman. I need you to use your ways and lure as many Holy Army men to our side as possible. Inform them that the side they serve belongs to the Demons. Lord Dagorith and Lord Soulbreaker, please keep a keen eye on the city. Our population will likely increase with time, and there could be a few spies." He assigned the tasks. "In the meantime, I'll speak with King Highland and the other supporters of our cause—we shall build a formidable army here to face the Holy Land." 

"When do we attack?" Aurora asked. "We can't delay too much. If Niel grows comfortable, he may become even more dangerous."

"Our battle is not with Niel but the one pulling his strings. All of you must understand that this isn't a war of strength anymore. It's a war of ideologies. We must convince the entire Sol that I am the rightful heir to Pope Axel. At the same time, I wish to find out what happened to him. I refuse to believe he died just like that." Sylvester sternly said, his body oozing with a tense aura. 

The Inquisitor High Lord agreed with him on that matter. "It is indeed hard to believe Pope Axel is gone. In all the years I've known him, he's not a man without a plan. At first glance, he may seem kind and simple, but he ascended to the highest throne by battling and rendering his rivals politically crippled. There is a possibility that he may be…" 

"Alive?" Sylvester finished. "I would love for that to be the case. But first, let's fulfill the tasks I have assigned to you."

"What about Beastaria, Lord Bard?" Soulbreaker questioned. "If this battle were to happen, we might lose a significant portion of Sol's military. How will we defend against the heathens of the east?" 

Sylvester responded firmly. "I'll deal with that—a new peace treaty shall be signed. I will say it once, and for the final time, do not worry about Beastaria for the time being. They are secondary enemies because they are worn out after the war between elves and dragons, and then our campaign into their lands."

"Understood," Soulbreaker replied and departed to carry out his assigned duty.

Sylvester, with Aurora, made their way to the dwarves. There were many things that needed to be built, ranging from weapons to propaganda machinery. Furthermore, it wasn't easy to find trustworthy people who'd do the work of manning the printing presses. 

He entered the enclosure that the dwarves had built for themselves. It seemed they preferred building beneath the surface rather than above, so most of their buildings were tiny, while the underground area was akin to a vast labyrinth.

"Elrog, I need to have a word with you." He beckoned the current head dwarf to the private room to discuss a few of his plans. "I have an idea to increase your productivity. What if you could automate the hammering process? Perhaps, you will be able to automate many other tasks, such as polishing."

"How, Lord Bard?" Elrog inquired.

"What I am suggesting to you is called a steam turbine and steam engine."

"Turbine? Engine?" Elrog repeated the new words. "What are they, Lord Bard?"

Sylvester took out the diagrams that Jinn from Masan had made. He would have preferred it if the man had come along, but since he wanted to spend some time in Masan and observe a month of mourning for his family, Sylvester let him be. 

"It's a machine that's powered by steam and magic crystals. Using the pressure of the steam, we can set a turbine in motion—a circular winged instrument that turns on its axis. The axis, in turn, drives gears, and if you connect the gears with a circular belt, you can create a mechanism to automatically lift a hammer high and let it fall with great force. With a controlled mechanism, you can even control the speed. Look at this diagram and try to imagine it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask." 

Sylvester could have also provided the dwarves with complete theoretical knowledge with formulas and proof of theorems. Sadly, to understand something like that, one needed pre-existing knowledge ranging from elementary to advanced levels.

Elrog examined all the diagrams silently, stroking his ample white beard occasionally. "I can see how the steam will turn the things and raise the hammer or help in polishing. We can certainly use this in many ways." 

Sylvester then presented another sheet with a diagram of his own creation. "At the same time, I want you to prioritize the creation of these weapons. They're long-range cannons and mortars. They use a chemical concoction for propulsion and shall carry exploding crystals to our enemies many kilometers away." 

Elrog assessed the diagrams in depth. "What is this strange wheeled platform? You wish to carry them around?" 

"Yes, they will be field artillery. Since each cannon will be eight meters in length and have considerable weight, they must be easily movable, using horses to pull them around. At the same time, the platforms will be made in a way that allows the user to turn the cannon on its axis, and at the same time, the platform will be able to turn into support legs when the cannon is in use." Sylvester briefed the elder dwarf in detail. 

He could have easily made guns or such contraptions, but knowing most knights and wizards had armor and protections to stop such projectiles, it was a waste of time. But when it came to explosives, it was a different story. 

With the help of cannons, even newly recruited soldiers from the masses would be able to operate the machines; while the fully trained army engaged in main combat.

"Lord Bard, we can make these. It's quite simple. Once we assess the launching force of the projectile, we can calculate the necessary thickness of the materials. You'll have the first test cannon ready in three days." Elrog confidently said. "But first, I wish to try this steam turbine. If it works, perhaps we can even use our inexperienced members." 

'Of course, industrialization is all about maximizing productivity.' Sylvester was satisfied with the thought process. 

"I have countless more ideas, but they can wait until the darkness looming over our heads disappears. I'll await your call when the cannon is made." Sylvester got up to leave. "And I must thank you for the new armor. Without a doubt, it was truly brilliant." 

Elrog's wide grin showcased his toothy smile. "I'm honored." 

"The faith will not forget your contribution." Sylvester left, not in the mood to talk about trivial matters. The weight of the revelations and the mystery that clouded his ability to make long-term plans burdened his heart with unease. 

After meeting with the dwarves, Sylvester went to find Gabriel in his work tent, where he managed the priests and devised propaganda posters.

"Lord Bard!" All the staff members stood up at his arrival. 

"No need, carry on with your work. Gabriel, come with me." Sylvester dragged his friend away from prying ears to speak privately.

"What happened? Did you find anything about the strange names?" Gabriel asked hastily. 

At best, Sylvester could only shake his head. The matter of his reincarnation was something he wasn't comfortable sharing with anyone. "I'm afraid not. However, the battle must continue. I need you to intensify the propaganda. Instead of once every two days, start sending flyers every single day. 

"Not just propaganda, make posters revealing the latest happenings, painting the Niel administration in a negative light. Such as their attack on Green City and how they murdered so many innocents. Use artwork that evokes tears, draw dead bodies of children being devoured by a Demon with mitre, start taking names directly now—ruin Niel's name before he does something." Sylvester issued a stern order.

Sylvester, drawing from the experiences of his past life, clearly understood how important propaganda was in shaping public sentiment. It was necessary to foster an environment where mass casualties in war from their own side were accepted while nurturing hatred towards the opposing side. 

"Create a new underground department to run as many printing presses as needed. Put people in limited termed Blood Contracts for secrecy. I'll also instruct our allies to start gathering their armies here." Sylvester added. 

Gabriel silently listened to everything, making mental notes. There were no more jokes exchanged amongst them like before. He couldn't help but feel that growing up wasn't all that fun as he had thought.

"I'll do it, Lord Bard." 

Bam!

All of a sudden, Sylvester smacked the back of Gabriel's head. "Max or Sylvester..."

"..." 

'Ugh… I was too quick to judge.' Gabriel smiled widely, relishing the lightheartedness. 

"Got it, Max." 

Following that, the two walked between the newly built crude form of the city, to assess the distribution of work and safety. From the fortress toward the gate near the boundary wall with a ditch outside, they inspected everything. 

"What's that commotion?" Gabriel muttered, noticing a big crowd gathered near the entry gate of the New Holy Land. "Let's check." 

Sylvester quickly sang a hymn under his breath to make a halo. That successfully parted the crowd, allowing them to pass through.

"Halt! Identify yourself!"

Sylvester heard the guards who were pointing their spears at the tall, dark-robed man. But the peculiar pointy metal helmet on his head, a faceplate with eye sockets constantly bleeding, and the thorny sword, revealed the man's identity to Sylvester.

"Stop!" Sylvester rushed forward and gently pushed the spears away. "Stand back! That's the Second Guardian of Light—Lord Bloodrain!"

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