I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

"...Grand Field Marshal, The Overlord Of Armies!"

Sylvester did not act shocked, nor did he appear happy. He just kept thinking about why such an honour was bestowed upon him. As he knew already, the Gracia Kingdom only had a figurehead as a king. The real ruler was the Church, which decided what the King must do and what policies needed to be accepted. The Pope was directly controlling the King.

'Why does the Pope wish to give me such a rank? Grand Field Marshal is the second highest rank in the Kingdom's military, second only to the King himself. Knowing the King's authority is nonexistent here, I am now indirectly the ruler of Gracia's military. But why?' Sylvester wondered in silence.

He liked the Pope, but he didn't trust the man completely. The latter was one of the strongest beings in the entire world. There were bound to be grand secrets behind the back and likely many secret plots going on as per the command.

'Am I a part of one of his plots? Or is this his genuine attempt to make me powerful?' Sylvester wondered about his predicament.

Still, he had to act like he was happy with the honour. So he walked forward on the pathway between the knights. As he stepped forward, the knights raised their swords at an angle to salute him and create a roof of swords over his head.

'All these soldiers are my subordinates now? Can I order them around?' Sylvester realised the extent of the power behind the military rank. But he was yet to know if he was given the liberty to derive the power behind the rank. Or if it was only a cosmetic rank?

Sylvester finally reached the stairs that led to the King's throne. He stopped there and waited for King Gracia to walk down a few steps and hand him whatever ornament made him a Grand Field Marshal.

King Harold soon reached out and picked something from a tray that the Prima brought. It appeared to be a short staff with a sharp green shining crystal at the top and a sharp blade-like finish at the end. It looked ancient by the look.

King Gracia then extended it to Sylvester. "Lord Bard, it's an honour to present this to you. You saved this kingdom not once but countless times. Gracia will forever remember your hard work."

Sylvester took the short staff and lowered his hand before saluting him. "Thank you, your majesty. May the Holy Light enlighten the people and the lands of Gracia."

The silence in the large hall ended after that, as the Prima announced. "The feast now begins! Please enjoy the food and, of course, our fine wine!"

Immediately, some musical instruments started to resound in the hall. Sylvester looked on with interest and realised it was a team of three Bards that had been at his camp not long ago. They held two guitars and one accordion. They were all singing simultaneously, and the song was about Sylvester.

♫Oh, this boy born on a stormy night

Golden eyes and hair, shining so bright

Strong and talented, with a heart of gold

He sings hymns about the sun, so bold…♫

Sylvester walked over to them and put three gold coins in the donation pot they had set in front of themselves. He didn't disturb them further and walked around to speak with some noble lords regarding the businesses he had set up.

"Lord Raftel, how is the business going? Unfortunately, I couldn't look at the sales report this month." Sylvester asked the Count while eating an apple.

Count Raftel glowed like a star while detailing his work with much pleasure. There was no hint of lies in the scent; instead, there was worship and pride. "Lord Bard, the business has been successful beyond my expectation.

"The monthly sales are more than ever, since this time, the Masan traders are genuinely interested in our product. They want the medical equipment there and are ready to pay a high price. However, taking heed of your advice, I have invested in advancing the production capacity and research work. As a result, we are working on better, more easily productive versions of syringes and glass bottles with tubes for intravenous treatment. So I expect the sales to increase from the current five hundred thousand Gold Graces to triple."

Sylvester was pleased with the developments. "This is good. Never stop innovating and trying to improve on what I made. After all, I am just a bard. I can not be perfect with each creation."

"You 'are' perfect, Lord Bard."

A third voice came all of a sudden. On looking, it turned out to be Baron Strongarm, the man once kidnapped by Barbarians. He was the person Sylvester gave the stationery business to. Baron Strongarm was tasked with manufacturing Ball Point Pens, staplers, pencils, sharpeners and erasers.

The Baron had his entire life changed because of Sylvester now, and he, too, saw success and ease from the economic collapse of Northern Gracia. The joy was evident in his voice, albeit being a man who speaks less. "Lord Bard, it started slow, but the sale is rising. This month, I registered a profit of fifty thousand Gold Graces for the first time. As the word spreads, I expect it to increase, so I am focusing on increasing production. In addition, I have decided to hire some ex-barbarians as they currently suffer from unemployment."

Sylvester sighed when he thought about the Barbarians. "As expected, Chief Koruk and the Duchess of Iceling didn't come. I will write a letter to them later. I gave the Duchess permission to mass-produce my designed sewing machines. If she works with ex-barbarians with superior fur and cloth-making skills, the Iceling Duchy can easily become a hub for clothes."

Just then, Sylvester had another idea and turned to look at Count Raftel. "My Lord, why don't you build a major sick bay near the river? It can be a privately funded sick bay called a Hospital. You can hire healers from across Sol and charge money to people for treatment. Let the sick come to you directly."

Count Raftel thought about it and asked. "Will the peasants have such money?"

"Life is invaluable, my lord. As long as you keep the prices earnest, people will not only come in numbers but will love you for building the Hospital. In fact, you can create an internal economy with such a venture. The Iceling Duchy can provide all the clothes needed for the Hospital. Lord Strongarm can provide all stationery needs, and you have all the equipment. It's certainly food for thought." Sylvester proposed the idea.

He could only suggest things, and it was the other's job to think about it and decide whether they wished to proceed.

Tap!

"My lords."

Someone touched Sylvester's shoulder. He looked, and it turned out to be a tall, curvy, and stunning young woman. Her skin was a light golden tan, smooth and flawless. Her features were sharp and striking, with high cheekbones and a defined jawline that framed full lips the colour of strawberries.

Her long, brown hair cascaded down in waves, framing her face like a midnight veil. She was dressed in a flowing, ornate robe of richly embroidered red silk, adorned with intricate gold patterns that seemed to shimmer in the light, just like her unusual jewellery.

[A/N: See her here]

Sylvester wasn't a man so easily moved, but seeing her was like appreciating an exotic art.

The other two lords seemed to know her as they bowed their heads and greeted her. Count Raftel first, as he was senior. "Lady Bethany, it's a pleasure to see you here. Lord Bard, this is Bethany Normani, the eldest of Duke Normani's children. Unlike the rest of the Kingdom, Duke Normani does not believe in usual inheritance rights. So, Lady Bethany here is set to inherit the Duchy soon."

'She looks quite young, in her late twenties perhaps? She certainly is a compelling beauty, but does she have brains? I don't smell anything negative or lustful like usual.' Sylvester evaluated her.

"Haha, Lord Raftel, nothing has been decided yet. Besides, I came here today only to see the famed blessed bard of the lord. So, Lord Bard, may I have a dance with you?" Lady Bethany extended her hand.

Sylvester wasted no time and took her, wanting to leave a good impression on a future Duchess.

They moved to a designated dancing area where the bards played slow music, and couples danced while holding each other. Sylvester, too, put his hand on her waist while she put both her hands on his shoulders and stared into his golden eyes.

She talked first, not acting shy in the least. "You know how to dance?"

"Had to learn it in school. So, does the bard meet your expectations, my lady?"

She shrugged and tried to take control of the rhythm of their dancing. But Sylvester didn't allow her and kept control of the motion.

A smile formed on her face as she spoke. "I only believe what I have witnessed, your grace. But, sadly, I have not seen enough of you yet. I've heard the rumours, and if they are true, which likely is the case, then you are a man I'd have gladly raised my sword to win over."

Sylvester was taken aback as her demeanour was the opposite of how graceful she looked. Her blue eyes held a strange ferociousness, and her hands that held his shoulder were much stronger than any ordinary woman, especially a noble highborn lady.

"Are you going to ask me to make babies with you now? Because that's what the wife of a Count in Riveria did once, right in front of the crowd in Duke's court." Sylvester asked her in a joking manner.

Playfully, Lady Bethany got closer to Sylvester until only an inch of the gap remained between their chests. "To seduce you and have your children? That is certainly a very challenging undertaking, your grace. One that I'd have loved to partake in, but sadly, I have no desire to be Church's enemy. After all, you are not virtuous by choice but by duty."

Sylvester truly enjoyed the conversation with the woman as she didn't smell of any sort of lust. On top of that, she was smart, as evident by how she talked. Although, he still smelled something that made him interested, and it was sunflowers.

"Not in my case, my lady. I made the choice to stay faithful to my oath. After all, if a man can't even stand by his words, how can he stand for a woman? My life, my soul, all belong to Solis." Sylvester added, showing some of his religious fanaticism, albeit fake.

She chuckled and suddenly pushed herself on him, closing the last gap between them. Their chests touched, and she raised herself a little up. Being six feet tall herself, she easily reached over his shoulder and lightly pecked his cheek before whispering into his ears.

"Let's not jape around, your grace. I know what you want — I will support you for the Holy Throne if you help me overcome my brothers and become the Duchess."

Sylvester continued to smile and whispered back. "What can a mere Duchy offer me?"

Lady Bethany left another kiss on his cheek and whispered even lower.

"Your grace, the looks can be deceiving. I'm quite old and on the verge of a breakthrough to the rank you desire to attain expeditiously."

"Grand Wizard?!" Sylvester exclaimed in a low voice.

Not adding any more details, Lady Bethany stepped back and saluted him with arms crossed on her chest. "May the Holy Light Enlighten us, your grace."

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