The Reversed Hierophant

Besançon sputtered on, heaping one accusation after another on the Portias. Rafael listened attentively with a smile, nodding slightly in agreement from time to time, or responding with a few casual remarks, causing Besançon to unknowingly reveal much more than he had originally intended.

After he left Rafael, his hot head cooled down, and he realized that he might have said a little too much.

It was really strange. Rafael clearly didn’t express his attitude or say anything useful from beginning to end. Logically speaking, such an unequal conversation would be difficult to continue. However, Besancon didn’t feel that he was being perfunctory. After leaving, he even felt that he had even more to say.

… It should be fine, Besançon hesitated, recalling that although he had said a lot of things, they were mostly boring idle chatter or gossip – his wife was fond of socializing and liked to compare herself to the wives of other lords, so he was forced to learn a lot about the other lords’ private affairs.

He just didn’t expect that His Holiness the Pope, who looked so dignified, would also enjoy listening to this kind of trivial gossip. It didn’t really match his appearance.

Rafael watched Besançon leave with a smile. The foolish lord had not realized that he had been fooled by the Pope, and had even forgotten the original purpose of his visit.

Rafael didn’t want to get involved in the undercurrents of conflict between Portia and the lords at this point in time. Let them think he was just a puppet pope. He had no power or manpower in his hands now, and rather than rushing into the struggle and ending up in defeat, it was better to watch from the sidelines and accumulate strength at the same time – to reclaim the authority that rightfully belonged to him.

Thinking about this, Rafael’s brow furrowed involuntarily again. In the end, he just had no one he could use.

He used to believe that sincerity and kindness would be rewarded in kind, but the facts proved that it was all just in his imagination. In Florence, this huge and luxurious world of fame and fortune, only tangible benefits and interests can win you allies.

He raised his eyes and looked around, seeing the tall figure with iron-gray hair standing not far away, talking to an archbishop. Both of them had carefully measured smiles on their faces.

His relationship with Julius was more naked than in the previous life, a relationship maintained entirely by interests, but it had to be said that it was also more honest and intimate than in his previous life.

How ridiculous.

It just proves that sincerity is worthless and trust is just an empty rhetoric found in dramas.

Rafael looked away and silently surveyed the entire scene. He saw the lords gathered in small groups, and Besançon was talking to the oldest of them. The man had hair that was too lush for his age, his silvery-white hair was combed neatly back from his head, and the ends of his hair had a rusty dark red hue. The withered skin on his skinny face drooped down, like a Shar-Pei dog that was intimidating without even being angry. Rafael thought for a moment and dug out the old man’s surname from his memory.

Russo.

This shipping family of the Syracuse Peninsula had started out as penniless pirates, and after washing off the thick, bloody smell of their bodies, had transformed themselves into the protectors of shipping and patrons of sailors. Like a greedy beast, they occupied most of the ports of the Papal States.

Except for the Portia family, who had forcefully broken through the claws of this giant beast with their pervasive capital and currency issuance rights, the other lords had to retreat to a place where they were out of reach of the Russo family’s sharpness in terms of shipping.

A greedy and shameless old man.

Rafael had a very bad impression of the current ruler of the Russo family. He still remembered that his ship, loaded with ore, had to pass through the Russo family’s port when it arrived in the Papal States. And in order to enter the port discreetly and avoid attracting attention, he needed to pay a high ship berthing fee for this ship – which was another form of bribe to the Russo family.

This bribe of nearly one thousand gold florins, which also included hush money for low-level officials and secretaries, was not something that Rafael could easily take out even though he was slightly better off now.

Moreover, this ‘ship berthing fee’ that made the Russo family rich was not approved by the Papal Palace at all. The Russo family had established this tax without paying a single penny to the Papal Palace.

They had made a fortune on the Papal States’ land, using the Papal States’ ports, and had refused to pay tribute to the Pope.

Rafael looked at the old but strong Russo from a distance, his lavender eyes revealing a well-hidden cold malice.

The celebration of the Feast of Divine Grace would last for several days. After the first fireworks exploded in the twilight, the whole square was plunged into a boiling atmosphere. A large amount of wine was poured into the fountain, and anyone with a cup could scoop it up for free. Piles of bread were steaming hot, and fresh bread kept rolling out of the brass pipes, falling into this fragrant mountain.

Rafael admitted he felt a little heartache.

But he couldn’t say it.

So the only option was to look away.

Rafael left the banquet early. As his deputy, the Secretary of the Papal Palace naturally became the center of the banquet. Julius was more familiar with this occasion than anyone else. He moved skillfully among the crowd, talking to everyone who tried to strike up a conversation with him, and finding the most suitable topic at the moment their eyes met, unnoticeably digging out what he needed from the other person’s few words.

The man with iron-gray hair and deep purple eyes was at the most charming age in his life. The enthusiasm of young boys were not as reserved and elegant as him. The vast wealth and power he wielded added an unspeakable brilliance to him. His gaze was affectionate, gentle but also distant, providing space for people to be moved, but also reserving a distance for withdrawal and ambiguity.

It was the kind of intoxicating sensuality that was both close and distant, exceptionally provocative.

With such a temperament, it was no wonder that all the women in the room would unconsciously set their sights on him.

However, no one could tell that Julius, who was effortlessly completing the same social routine, was actually distracted.

He held a lady’s hand and spun around on the dance floor. When they faced each other, the lady winked at him with her light green eyes, making a secret signal that all adults knew. Receiving this ambiguous invitation, the head of the Portia family remained unmoved, and spun again along the beat with his arms around the lady’s waist, exchanging partners with the dancer next to him at the same time.

The woman who was getting further and further away from Julius with each beat and pace could only show a reluctant expression, but the sociable Julius gave her a gentle and apologetic smile, perfectly soothing the other party’s dissatisfaction at being rejected.

During this little episode, Julius casually thought about the arrangements for the next few days and the meeting with the lords. Thinking of this, the smile on his face deepened, looking so gentle and affectionate that it was intoxicating. However, his thoughts at this moment were so violent and bloody that they could not be put on paper.

To reiterate, Julius was not a good-tempered person. Growing up calling the wind and rain, he successfully took control of all the power of this huge family, and even the reckless Redrick feared him. How could such a person really be as polite and gentle as he appeared to be?

Julius had long been tired of those stupid colleagues. They greedily stared at the Papal States, and with all those benefits in their hands, they still wanted to take more…

Are they idiots? There’s nothing left for them to carve up in the Papal States. Or do they want to snatch Florence from the Pope’s hands as well?

They haven’t even considered that the Pope, whom they seem to bully at will, is the supreme faith of hundreds of millions of people on the continent.

They’re just opportunists who took advantage of the Pope’s weakness and grabbed what they could. They should just be content with what they have, but they’re still greedy for more.

Julius keenly sensed that this ship was spinning out of control, and he refused to sink with these fools.

So he immediately changed course and boarded the Pope’s ship. Although Florence and the lords seemed to have a significant power gap, with Portia’s help, nothing was impossible.

Apart from that, the most fundamental problem was… the fragmented Papal States could no longer satisfy Portia’s needs. To go further, Portia needed a larger territory. Florence couldn’t be touched, and Portia couldn’t directly declare war on other countries, so she could only trouble the other lords to make a move.

Julius’ deep purple eyes, hidden beneath long lashes, were gentle and reserved. Even while thinking about such things, his smile did not waver at all.

_______________________________

The music in the palace was melodious and winding softly. Rafael turned three corridors before he completely left the sound behind. The Papal guards and deacons followed at a distance, ready to fulfill the Pope’s any request. The young Pope completely ignored them, his white robe trailing elegant folds on the ground, as he went straight back to his bedroom.

The two guards guarding the door immediately opened the magnificent door when they saw the Pope return. Rafael was about to go in when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face he had seen not long ago.

“You…”

A moment of thought slowed his steps. He simply stopped and looked at the black-haired boy: “What’s your name?”

It was a rhetorical question, but as a ‘first meeting,’ this process still needed to be followed.

A young man with curly black hair stood with a straight back. Although his face still bore a trace of childishness, his features already hinted at the otherworldly charm that would develop in him.

“My name is Ferrante, Holy Father.”

He bowed his head deeply in accordance with etiquette and answered. Although he wanted desperately to look the other person in the eye and see the face of the saint who was so close to him, he couldn’t.

‘Be patient, Ferrante,‘ he whispered silently and slowly in his heart. ‘Be patient, as you have countless times before. As long as you are patient… you will always get what you want.‘

Rafael looked at the head bowed in respect: “I haven’t seen you before, are you new here?”

Ferrante’s voice trembled slightly. Rafael said indulgently, “Don’t be nervous. I won’t punish you.”

Ferrante paused, and when he spoke again, his trembling voice and unsteady breath had calmed down a lot. He boldly raised his head. The deacon behind Rafael was about to reprimand the impertinent guard, but the Pope glanced at him lightly and he had to swallow the words he wanted to say.

With the Pope’s tacit permission, Ferrante raised his head and looked directly at his saint for the first time.

It was exactly as he had seen countless times in his dreams: soft, pale golden hair, pale purple eyes, as if embraced by a hazy halo. The divine light favored His child walking on earth, and the saint was looking at him too. In the moment their gazes met, Ferrante suddenly felt his heart pounding.

He didn’t understand what this emotion was. It was as if he saw himself, who had been crawling in the mud, in the other’s eyes, and then, in this gaze, he received an unprecedented sense of peace and comfort.

Ferrante quickly lowered his head, hiding his inexplicable urge to cry, and heard the Pope change the subject, beginning to ask about the name of another new guard who had been selected alongside him.

“…They are new members of the Papal Guard selected from the churches below. They are all devout, kind, and loyal children of yours. These two are the most diligent, so they were allowed to serve at Your Holiness’s side today.”

A deacon walking behind Rafael came forward to report in a low voice.

“Is that so? I thought you would have to train for a while longer,” Rafael looked at them tenderly and sighed softly. “It must have been very hard to complete the training in such a short time. My safety from now on will be in your hands.”

Hearing the kind and amiable Pope say such words, the two new members straightened their backs involuntarily. The one with brown hair even said loudly, “I swear to protect Your Holiness with my life!”

Rafael looked at his eyes that were shining with excitement, smiled, and walked into his bedchamber.

The two doors closed behind him, and Rafael’s smile disappeared. He silently repeated Ferrante’s name, and a rare hesitation appeared on his face.

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