I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

Sylvester took a second glance at the Archbishop after hearing him. Article 66 implied killing every living creature inside the town-sized city, including the kids and anyone innocent because they witnessed something blasphemous.

'Let's see. I can smell anger, rage and worship. But at the same time, I can smell lies, so something must be happening here.'

As he looked at the Archbishop, he noticed the man was discreetly trying to wink at him. Sadly, it appeared the Archbishop had no idea how to wink, so he was just blinking both his eyes at the same time. At first, Sylvester subconsciously thought it was morse code since he had used it before, but then he remembered only he and Sir Dolorem knew it.

'Ah, so he wants me to fake it and get along.'

He quickly raised his small sword sheathed on his waist and raised it high. "His grace, the Archbishop has given the orders. Article 66 is initiated, and everything near the city is to be killed — No mercy, for all of you have commented heresy! Priest Charles and Priest Leonardo, you may proceed by killing that filthy woman!"

Panic instantly spread, and it became evident from the faces. There were not enough soldiers to take on someone of Sylvester and the rest's rank. Not to mention, there was Count Bradley, who was also a powerhouse. While the nobles residing in the city were weak-minded people with no fighting experiences.

Woosh!

Sir Dolorem went ahead and swung his sword so fast the sound of the air cutting echoed aloud.

Thud!

The noblewoman's head fell to the ground while her torso stood erect for a few seconds, spraying a fountain of blood. Then, it also fell down a little away from the head.

That was it, the message was clear, and the rest of the nobles around them started to run away for their life. They screamed, trampled over themselves, and some well-placed runes by Sylvester ensured they tripped repeatedly.

That way, even after five minutes, nobody had escaped, and they just accepted their rotten luck and impending fate. Sir Dolorem and Bishop Lazark took their sweet time to move forward towards the rest of the crowd.

Woosh!

Another nobleman was beheaded. This was a man who shouted alongside the previous woman. It was clear that they were initially targeting only those who only called for the Archbishop's murder. It was, after all, heresy.

One after another, five nobles were killed. Only after that did a voice of reason resound from the crowd as a man pried his way to the front. The man was old, tall and looked quite strong with a heavy build.

He fell beside the Archbishop's feet and asked for forgiveness. "Forgive these fools, your grace. I, as the administrator of this city, apologise for the foolishness. I never wished to make this a separate nation, but to give these nobles a reason to stay, I had to do it. It was to give them a sense of individuality, that they were in control. They wished to live in willful ignorance. I merely provided the means. We are still servants of Solis, your grace."

Archbishop Nelson coldly looked down at the man. "Then why should I not kill you as well? You are the source of heresy here, not them."

"I… I am Baron Clofield, and if my sacrifice saves them, please kill me, your grace." The man lowered his head to show his neck clearly.

The Archbishop sneered and stepped back. "Then prove to me you're not a heathen. Sing me any of the songs that the great Archbishop, the legendary Bard Sylvester Maximilian, wrote."

"O' mortal, basking in my warmth. The time has come to make an oath. I shall test your loyalty henceforth. Make the vow here; never will your faith waiver. I am him, I am you, I am everywhere… I… I am…" The Baron started to mumble as he couldn't remember what came next.

The Archbishop angrily completed the hymn. "I am earth; I am the sky, I am air. My light reaches all, yet there remain heathens, Ruffians—sinners no less than demons. Help condemn the godless to the dark abyss. It's your pathway to eternal bliss. In your mind, etch this, for I am Solis."

The Baron looked down in shame and didn't speak any further. "I can try another one."

"Silence! I expect nothing else from you if you can't even remember this brilliant hymn. Now rise and lead me to your place. I came here to see you specifically." The Archbishop ordered the Baron around like he was a child.

"Y-Yes, your grace."

The crowd was allowed to be dispersed after that, and they didn't ask any more questions about it. They just ran away without asking any questions.

The Baron brought the Archbishop and Sylvester to his house. It was not big, but not too small either. And it appeared to be a shop, not just a home. There were some nobles sitting outside the house by the various tables. They all had a glass of juice and some bread in front of them.

"What is it that you do?" Sylvester asked the man.

"I am not rich anymore, respected holy men. I used to own a large-scale transportation business for fruits and vegetables. But, now, I have nothing but this ship. I had to pay everything in bribes to the wretched men from the Patch for what I have now." The Baron Clofield explained as he led them inside the three-storey building.

There, the Baron brought them to a balcony on the second floor and led them to sit by a table. Then the big man shouted some orders. "Amy! Bring the orange juices here!"

Clank!

The sounds of some utensils being dropped echoed in the distance. A minute later, a little black-haired girl appeared, not more than nine years old. She carried a big tray with five glasses and some plates on it. Of course, it was clear from her face that she was having difficulty doing it.

Her sparkling blue eyes, full of life, and her struggling expressions gave the story of her life away clearly. She was certainly not the daughter of the Baron, so that meant she was some sort of a slave.

"H-Here… My Lord." She put the tray on the table with much effort since the table was nearly as high as her shoulder. She was short for her age, and her tiny hands were too small to hold the glasses easily.

Sylvester quickly took the tray and helped her. He was always soft on kids ever since he lost his own. "Hello there, little one. What's your full name?"

The girl looked at Sylvester's face and seemed shocked. A blush appeared on her face since, after all, Sylvester carried the charm of an elf. She flustered, bowed her head and spoke in stutters. "I-I'm Amy Bellamy… I am nine years old and work here as a house help. It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Good girl." The Archbishop started to fawn at her already and patted her head. "Such a well-behaved girl. Where are your parents, little one?"

She glanced at the Baron and lowered her head again, her eyes turning full of sorrow at the same time. "I… They died when we came running here."

Baron chimed in. "Her parents were close friends of mine, another Baron family. I was able to save her only."

Sylvester glanced back at the girl and felt something was off there. 'Why do I smell fear and anxiety? The Baron also smells of lies and fear.'

Sylvester didn't believe a word from the Baron's mouth following that. He just waited to find out why the Archbishop wanted to find the Baron. What could the man have since there was nothing special about him?

"Dear, I brought some snacks. Here, eat these and sit there." The Archbishop took out a small bag of cookies from his robes and handed it to the little girl.

Then, the old man turned serious. The grandfatherly aura disappeared, and he stared into the Baron's eyes. "Let's get to the point. I know you have the most extensive spy network in the Sorrow Kingdom. I need some information, or else the plague that has just entered your Kingdom will swallow everything. You will die, along with your loved ones, this entire city — all of it. There is no cure, Baron."

'He has the biggest spy network?' Sylvester was taken aback. The man looked so ordinary and useless, but at another thought, it made sense a man like that would hold such a secret identity.

The Baron also turned serious. "What do you need? I heard about the plague and what happened in the Last Hay. I will help you at no cost."

The Archbishop put forward a box. "This has the samples of the plague in it. We have learned that it holds Solarium in it. This means the plague could be created by a wizard for some specific use. You do understand who would wish to spread such a plague here?"

Baron Clofield looked at the box dangerously. "The Patch would not be foolish enough to do something like this. It's too much, your grace. If they are found, it will bring the wrath of the Holy Land, Highland, Riveria and Masan."

Archbishop Nolan put the box away and asked. "That is why I need you to find out if The Patch has anything to do with this plague. If they do, they likely have also created the cure."

"I will use all my resources, your grace. If I find anything, I will send a word to you. Until then, I suggest you go to the Wailing City. It's in ruins, but some royal family loyalists have gathered there. If you need allies, you'll find them." Baron suggested.

The Archbishop stood up just then. "Thank you, Baron. This will help us greatly. I will be visiting again in the future, so until then, be a good boy and don't make any mistakes that might earn you a warm pyre."

The Baron nearly sweated and looked down. "Y-Yes, your grace."

The Baron knew how powerful the Archbishop was in the current situation as the emergency was imposed. So, he kept his head low and didn't make problems with him.

With that, their visit ended, and they all decided to leave.

"Bye-bye." The little girl, Amy, waved her hand cutely while smiling widely.

Sylvester did the same, but then he noticed something. "She's limping on one side. Is her leg injured?'

Ting!

"YOU! You broke another plate!" The Baron roared as the sound of a plate falling came.

Amy cried and defended herself. "I didn't touch it, my lord."

"Then h—!"

Words returned to everyone's mouths as they all noticed something. It became hard to stay standing, the whole house started shaking, and things started to fall down left and right. Cracks appeared on the walls, and the roof slowly started to fall apart.

Bam!

Thud!

Things fell all around them, and the mess only increased as the earth shook more violently.

Sylvester and the rest were near the house door, so they picked Amy up and ran out to the open area quickly. As they reached there, they saw the destruction. Houses had fallen apart as if they were made of glass. Roads were cracked as if there were ravines for eons.

The Archbishop cursed and teared up for the people. "The hell just became an inferno. Where will the poor go? Where will the poor live? Why such hardships has the Lord decided to give?"

Sir Dolorem also felt sorrowful. "None can fight nature. And when earth breaths–"

Sylvester finished. "The world shatters!"

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