I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

"I am appointing you as the Grand Crusader. Your duties shall be similar to what you were supposed to do as a Sanctum Inspector, but at the same time, you shall have the authority to hold the trials of the Crusaders who do any wrong. For this, you shall be given an army of a thousand that shall follow you everywhere. Not only will it help you fight in your various assignments, but it will also help you in any battle you must go through."

'A double-edged sword, huh? Who knows who will be the spy for the council in the group of a thousand? But why is he giving me this much power? To judge over crusaders would mean I can judge over nobles who join the crusade too.' Sylvester's thoughts were filled with confusion about this sudden appointment.

He bowed his head and accepted the appointment. "I shall not disappoint you, your eminence."

"I know you won't, son. Now go and prepare your team. Speak with Saint Wazir; he will assign you a unit."

Sylvester saluted and proceeded to leave. But as he opened the door, he heard one last thing from the big man that sent the alarms bursting in his head.

"One more thing; you are not alone, son. That Shadow Knight will never defeat you. That's my confidence in you speaking, as well as my support to you."

'I need to get Miraj home quickly.'

"Thank you, holy father," He bowed and left quickly.

He grabbed his bag from underneath the chairs and stormed out of the Palace. He didn't go to the Administration office; instead, he headed home after evading Felix and the rest. On his way, Miraj came out of the bag and sat down on his shoulder.

"Don't speak yet," He stopped Miraj before he could even open his mouth.

He quickly arrived back home and only found Princess Isabella sitting in the living room alone, doing nothing other than looking out of the window.

"Just a minute, I will be back," Sylvester barged in and locked himself in his room.

Princess Isabella, who had stood up with a big excited smile on her face, again fell back in the seat in defeat. She was thoroughly bored out of her mind.

Meanwhile, inside, Sylvester put Miraj on his table. "Chonky, what did you hear there, and why were you scared?"

"That beardy man... The Pope, he sensed me, Maxy! He sensed I was breathing air in the room and was about to kill me. But I escaped in time!" Miraj exclaimed, speaking everything without taking a breath.

"Did he touch you?"

"No, he was going to burn me, I think. Maxy! They are bad people. I heard they planned to get you hunted by that bad man in the forest. They made you kill that count family using order sixty-nine."

"You mean Article sixty-six?" Sylvester corrected him.

Miraj nodded intensely, "Yes! They are bad, Maxy! They spoke about wanting to keep you close and depended on the church. That bald hairless man is very mean. He planned everything and even made fun of the big red man."

Sylvester took a long breath and sat down on the chair, "Did the Pope approve it?"

"Yes, yes! He was happy that the plan did well."

Sylvester fell silent and closed his eyes to imagine every option he could and choose the best as his next step. It was clear why he felt so negative when meeting the Pope today. The man didn't have good intentions at all from the beginning.

"Maxy, are you angry?" Miraj asked.

Sylvester picked him up and put him on his lap. "No, Chonky. I was confused the whole time why the Shadow Knight was after me. Now, it makes sense--it was a setup. But honestly, I can't blame the Pope. If I were him, I'd have done the same.

"Me being a possible top dog in the future is too much to lose for them. They wish to retain me at all costs while simultaneously closing down all other pathways for me. So, in the end, the way of faith will be the only one left."

Miraj was worried for Sylvester, "What will you do now?"

"The Pope granted me an army of a thousand soldiers not because he wished for me to do a better job but so they could be used as a meat shield against the Shadow Knight. This whole Grand Crusader designation is hollow--it only exists as an excuse. So, we have to do nothing different from what we were already doing. Finding out the culprit who harmed Sir Dolorem and killed the noble women is still our top priority.

"We must slowly build connections with the high society. Our goal remains unchanged no matter what hardships we face--no matter who is against us."

Seeing Sylvester so focused, Miraj felt pumped. "Maxy, I want to get stronger too."

Sylvester squashed Miraj's face, "You want to get strong? Well, you're already a strong chonky boy. Your big bottomless mouth is your weapon. If you ever dislike someone, just eat them. But do stay away from the Pope and all of the Guardians."

"Yes!"

"Now, let's entertain that bored Princess. It shouldn't be hard to make her my staunch supporter. But first, let's understand her dreams and wishes," Sylvester said as he got up.

The news of the Pope plotting to keep him chained was slightly disappointing. But he had never assumed that the Pope was a nice man. No people holding as much power as him are kind--it's a universal fact. Not to mention, anyone with so much power has to have their hands dipped in dirty politics, so this was just a taste of it.

'I should worry about these later. First, I need to find a cure for myself.'

He used liquid scents on his robes to not smell sweaty and moved out. The Princess was still sitting alone, apparently wearing a commoner's clothes. These belonged to Xavia, and they were just simple grey gowns with laces around the waist to tighten it accordingly.

Sure enough, Princess Isabella looked alluring in that, too, since she was naturally attractive. Her hair, peerless skin and eyes were attractions that most men would notice.

In Sylvester's eyes, she was beautiful too. One of the most beautiful, in fact. But, he had the self-control not to become another Felix. He knew what his goal was, and he would never sidetrack it.

"Shall we head out, your highness?" Sylvester asked her.

She stood up like she was being interviewed, stiff as a stick. "Yes, Lord Bard!"

'What a sight. The kingdom's Princess is nervous around the "lowly" me.' He chuckled to himself and walked out.

"Call me Sylvester from now on. That's what my close friends call me. Also, it gets annoying to be called Lord Bard or such every time," He tried to reduce the boundaries between them first and kindle a comfortable friendship.

"T-Then, you must only call me Isabella--or Bella. I don't like being called Your Highness or Princess. I make my handmaidens call me Isabella too." She spoke in her charming voice, much suitable for singing.

'Maybe I can win her over by teaching her to play the violin?'

"Alright then, Isabella. Let's show you the great Holy Land then."

They soon arrived outside the building. But before they could leave, a bunch of Bright Mothers appeared and started giving him hugs. Most of them were old ladies, some young too, but all considered him a son or brother.

"Who is this fine young lady? Max, are you being naughty?" One of the Bright Mothers asked.

Sylvester nearly chuckled as he remembered her face. 'Well, not as naughty as you get on some nights.'

"This is Princess Isabella Gracia. I'm tasked with showing her the Holy Land, Bright Mothers."

'And brainwash her.'

The Bright Mothers turned respectful in an instant. "Then have fun, both of you."

Before more Bright Mothers could come, he took her to his horse. "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

Isabella shook her head. "My brothers never let me try it. They said I will never need to ride a horse in life as I am a Princess."

"Can I be frank with you, Isabella?" He finally called her by her name.

She blushed slightly since her interaction with boys of her age was none. Heck! She spoke to a male maybe once a month by mistake while in the Palace. Even then, that would be her old royal guard.

"Please, Sylvester. Speak your mind."

Sylvester got onto his horse as he spoke. "You likely know about the case your family is involved in. Someone in your family is behind the murder of noble women and has a sick fetish for cutting their chests. Countess of Jartel and Raftel were victims.

"This tells you how important it is for noble ladies to know the skill of fighting to defend themselves. Because there won't always be your guards around you--less so when the attacker is someone you're close to. So, I say, your family is foolish for keeping you sheltered for so long. With your beauty, there is also an increased risk, won't you agree?"

Sylvester extended his hand towards her after mounting the horse.

Isabella was confused as she answered. "I agree with you, Sylvester. I've tried to fight them, so they let me learn these skills--but all was for nought. They'd rather have me learn how to be a good lady for whoever I'm wedded off to."

'Smart enough to know she's just a sellable asset. Good girl,' Sylvester mentally complimented her and started to create her character profile in mind.

"Hold my hand, Princess. We must share a horse for the day." Sylvester extended his arm. Of course, he could grab a carriage from somewhere, but that was against his objective.

Isabella blushed but tried to keep a strong face in front of Sylvester.

"Ugh..." Sylvester pulled her up and made her sit in front of him sideways. So her legs were falling to the right while he held the horse's rein by putting his arm around her back and belly.

The close touch instantly made the Princess feel strange things, not to mention he smelled nice. But Sylvester kept a plain, professional face and treated her respectfully, not touching her where he didn't have to.

"Let me show you the School of Dawn, where I studied," he suggested while keeping the scents in check. He felt she was nervous and anxious, but there was also a sharp nose tingling sweet aroma of boiling caramel--she was excited, that was obvious.

Being up so close, Isabella could see him from this close for the first time as Sylvester started slowly moving the horse.

His golden eyes were so rare that he was the first person she met to have them. His hair blended with his face and eyes, and she felt as if in the presence of royalty instead. His arms, warm and muscular, around her back and front, made her feel safe.

But simultaneously, as she looked ahead, she felt something else. 'I wish I were not just a chained pretty face to be bartered. I wish I were him--go wherever I want on a whim.'

Sylvester picked her emotions instantly. 'Sour and salty? Why is she jealous of me?'

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