I Became The Pope, Now What?



Since there were Inquisitors at the camp, there were horses as well. Sylvester and Cardinal Bison took two horses and quickly made their way toward the south. But first, they crossed the Bliss River and entered the Beastkins' region since the land beyond the river was full of monsters and dark creatures that were hard to deal with. 

Sylvester tried his best to find a way and get Cardinal Bison to be more at ease with him and share information. But the man was tightlipped, something to expect from a spy. So, for the most part, their journey took a silent turn. 

The only worry that kept eating at Sylvester was Miraj, tied to his chest since the furry boy was yet to move or even twitch. It was unknown what was wrong with him, as his breath and pulse were normal. 

'This is the worst-case scenario playing out for me. The Inquisitors numbered in tens of thousands, and now they're dead. This reduces my hold on the Holy Land.' Sylvester thought to himself, trying to plan for the future. 'The Holy Army must be in shambles too since they were Niel's before. Their loyalty will always be questionable.' 

Sadly, it was something he couldn't do anything about while still in Beastaria. For now, the best possible action was to go to Deca Imperia, see what secrets the Shadow Knight was talking about, and become the Pope. With the official Pope's Mitre on his head, he'd have more wriggle room. 

"Cardinal Bison, which Pope do you follow?" Sylvester asked the man as they traveled on their horses through the forest. It was the territory of the Lionkin, so they were a little more careful. 

Cardinal Bison scoffed. "Only the True Pope—Axel Tar Kreed, may his soul rest in peace. Now, I only follow his official successor, the Bard. He may be young, but his actions have resulted in the resolution of a thousand-years-long issue."

'I smell some pride when he speaks about me. But this could be some sort of misleading ability as well. I can't forget he's a spy.' Sylvester stayed careful. 

Nodding heavily, he began talking. "You mean Sylvester Maximilian? I like that boy… he saved me in Masan once. Those nasty humans had me imprisoned for decades." 

Cardinal Bison visibly flinched a little, not expecting the elf to say such a thing. "You know him? How well? What does he look like?"

"He looks… great for a human, especially his magnificent hair and voice. Whenever he sang, it mesmerized even me. I remember the hymns to this day—I almost felt like accepting Solis as my Lord." Sylvester said, luring the man slowly, grabbing and coiling him tightly like a snake. 

Sylvester ensured he took a few breaks during their discussion, giving the man room to think. He skillfully planted subtle ideas and also kept an eye on the scents. 

"How did Masan capture you?" Cardinal Bison asked. 

"I went there with my master, Prince Avanss of Alfia. The Prince likes to travel and learn new things, so he wished to see the culture of Sol. But we were caught, and while I tried to free him, I failed, and we were imprisoned." Sylvester answered, weaving the story carefully. As a spy, he was confident that Bison would know Avanss' name and that the Prince hadn't been seen in decades. After all, Bison started the civil war between elves and dragons, so the man likely knew everything about the two sides. 

'I sense the scents changing. There's less doubt and hostility.' Sylvester felt it. 

Once again, silence brewed between them. They stopped at various locations to rest for the night but rarely slept as they didn't trust one another. On top of that, their tents were always set apart, riddled with safety runes around them. 

But Sylvester did that for a different reason. He spent his resting time checking Miraj and seeing if he could do something to help the furry cat. He laid Miraj down on the carpet and checked his body carefully. 

"What happened to you? It's been more than two days already." Sylvester wondered, using all his knowledge he knew of magic. He also tried to enter Miraj's mind through Solarium Web, but he didn't receive a reply. 

In a last-ditch attempt, he decided to feed Miraj the Solarium crystals he had left with him. Since the fundamental component of matter in the world was Solarium, he reckoned Miraj was made of it as well.

"Just wake up, boy. I won't bring you to such dangerous adventures from now on." Sylvester muttered, feeling somewhat guilty for not being more careful. He took Miraj's existence for granted since he had never faced such difficulty before. 

The whole night, he fed Miraj the crystals one after another. Thankfully, since the crystals could dissolve, it wasn't hard to feed them to him. Additionally, Sylvester gave Miraj his own Solarium, as he could take enough from surrounding trees thanks to elven magic. 

By the time morning came, out of boredom, Sylvester also laid down and closed his eyes while keeping Miraj tucked to his side. 

Prrr…

Prrr…

As the morning peaked, Sylvester opened his eyes to strange bubbly noises, as if someone was blowing into a glass of water with a straw right beside his ears. 

"C-Chonky?" He abruptly exclaimed, noticing Miraj's nose beside his face, snuggled between his chin and chest. He was surprised because he remembered putting him neatly under a warm blanket. 

Prrr…

The sound of the bubbles was coming from Miraj's nose; that much was clear to him. But it wasn't normal breathing; Sylvester knew for sure. 

"You're snoring?" Sylvester slowly got up without disturbing Miraj too much. "Can you wake up? Are you okay? Does it hurt somewhere?" 

He showered him with questions, hoping that Miraj would at least move a little. 

"Mh… M-Mmaxy…" 

Miraj mumbled, much to Sylvester's delight. "Chonky, what happened? Do you need anything that can help you?" 

However, without opening his eyes, Miraj only tried to climb up onto Sylvester's lap and curl himself into a tiny ball to sleep again. "S-scared…" 

Sylvester clenched his fist as he understood that Miraj was either shown something nightmarish by the Demon or had been dreaming something like that for the past two days. He squeezed Miraj in his arms and comforted him. "Nothing to fear, Chonky… You're safe now, and I'm also safe. We'll kill that Demon soon… and make it pay." 

Miraj silently used his paws to grab Sylvester's neck. "M-maxy… don't go."

It was at that moment Sylvester understood Miraj's biggest insecurity and nightmare. It was abandonment, the inability of being able to talk to someone or be seen by someone—the fear of being alone for thousands and thousands of years like he had been before. Sylvester had no doubt that if he were Miraj, he'd have lost his mind long ago. 

'After taking the throne, I should start looking into Miraj's past seriously and find his origins. Perhaps… I can find his home.' Sylvester mumbled, gently soothing Miraj to sleep. 

"You're not alone, buddy—we're not alone." 

…

After tucking Miraj back onto his chest, Sylvester folded his tent and drank the watery soup with Cardinal Bison. After that, they both got back on their horses and headed down south. Finally, they arrived at the mountains that marked the beginning of the Orcs' territory. It was a difficult area, but for men of their caliber, it was a breeze. 

Orcs were smart but, at the same time, brutes. In front of magical means, they couldn't hold up so well. And Sylvester, as well as Cardinal Bison, were masters of magic. However, neither of them had any idea what the other specialized in. 

♫Mercy is for sin, not for heresy.

Solis blessed me to leave a legacy…♫

Sylvester heard Cardinal Bison sing a hymn that he once sang.

'If this is what impresses you, I think I know what to sing.' Sylvester smirked internally.

"That's good, but I particularly liked the one about the Apostle of Light." Sylvester interrupted the holy man. "It goes like this… Kneel before the apostle of light. Warriors and Knights for Solis, come and fight. Feel the warmth of the Lord or burn bright—"

Cardinal Bison shook his head and interrupted Sylvester. "Lord Zohron, I'm quite surprised and impressed by your interest in the Bard's hymns. But you said a few words wrong there. In the second line, it's supposed to be "who fight" and in the third line, there is no "or." Where did you read them?" 

Sylvester made a pitiful face. "I didn't read them, Cardinal. I only heard a traveling bard sing it and remembered. Since only the monasteries sold the compilation of Lord Bard's hymns, I couldn't buy one." 

'Impressed.' Sylvester smelled the scent of admiration, the scent of cloves.

Cardinal Bison fiddled with the saddle of his horse and took out a book. "I have a copy of the book, Lord Zohron. Perhaps I can lend it to you for the help you've provid—"

PA!

Roar!

Sylvester immediately dismounted and made his horse lie down beside him behind a bush. He looked to his side and noticed Cardinal Bison doing the same. They both heard some disturbance coming from the path behind, and it was very different from the noises they had heard from the Orcs. On top of that, they had reached the outskirts of the Orcs' territory. 

"What is that?" Sylvester asked Bison in whispers. 

Bison seemed angry at that moment, apparent by his gritted teeth. "It's a slave convoy…" 

"Slave convoy?" Sylvester peeked out from the bushes and waited. 

Soon, a few rows of carriages appeared in view. The carriages were metallic, large, and pulled by big lizard-like beasts. But on the sides of the carriages were rows upon rows of men in torn clothes or bare-chested. They all had their hands tied with cuffs, and metal collars around their necks, connected to one another by chains. They looked malnourished, dirty, and exhausted, with no hope left in their eyes. 

Pa!

The sound of whips echoed every now and then, as the man standing beside the reinsman hit the slow slaves. Sometimes even stabbed them with a spear while mocking them for their uselessness.

Hidden behind the bushes, Sylvester remained silent, but clearly grasped the reason behind Cardinal Bison's wrathful expression.

'These slaves are human and…' Sylvester took a deep breath. 'The slavers are elves…'

Soon, the convoy passed by, and Cardinal Bison stood up, still angered. "Long-eared bastards… those window-less carriages must hold female slaves.'

Sylvester glanced in the direction the convoy went and only thought of one thing. 

'Years ago, Mum was in one of those? Hopeless and scared…?'

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Thank you for reading. Gifts and GT votes are highly appreciated.

The 2nd chapter is on the way.