I Became The Pope, Now What?

"Your grace, I value my word with my life. As long as my daughter is safe, I accept to be your slave for eternity."

Sylvester looked down upon the Grand Wizard, who could stop time, an ability coveted by many but achievable by a few in millennia. A man of such talent wished to be his slave for eternity.

'Accepting the offer is enticing, but damaging to my name. Perhaps a better route can be taken to assure loyalty.'

"Are you sure?" Sylvester asked him, his bright golden halo having returned to normal size by then.

"I never go back on my words," Einarr responded.

Sylvester nodded and raised his right palm to shine some warm light upon the man. At the same time, soothing hymns in his confident voice resonated.

♫You are a slave no more, freed at last.

This is a blessing of Solis that's been cast.

Savour this new life instead of living fast.

The time has come to get over the broken past.♫

♫Sing the name of the Lord and be praised.

Bask in his miracles and be amazed.

The world, at times, may seem crazed.

Do not falter, for the sinners shall be blazed.♫

♫Rise, Einarr, of the land of Sorrow.

As long as the words of the Lord you follow.

You shall never feel your mind be hollow.

Look up, it's time to build a merrier tomorrow.♫

Sylvester stopped his chant, but the halo remained as it always left a lasting effect on the people.

Einarr looked up while kneeling, his eyes filled with confusion. "W-What do you mean, your grace?"

Sylvester bobbed his head and plucked the spear from the ground he had placed beside himself. Then, he turned it upside down and...

Bonk!

The spear's butt struck Einarr on the head, creating a small bump. It was painful, however, and Einarr rubbed it in even more confusion.

Finally, Sylvester spoke. "You foolish man! Here I am, granting you freedom, and you take it for granted. After living for so many years away from your family, being a slave, you wish to return to that life again?"

"But, my wor..."

Bonk!

Sylvester again hit him on the head. "I order you to live as a free man and care for your daughter. Cherish the time you have left before you turn too old. Besides, don't you have a kingdom to rebuild before your monarch returns?"

Further confusion seeped into Einarr's mind, evident by his face. "What do you mean, your grace? The entire royal family is dead."

Sylvester smiled and proceeded to walk away. "Who knows? Just in case. I'm sure you would not want to offer them a seat in their broken castle -- if they were to return. And even if they don't, the Sorrow Kingdom needs someone strong to manage it, and who better for that role than you?"

Einarr lowered his head in shame at that moment. "But I betrayed my king! I betrayed this kingdom!"

Sylvester softly talked back. "And that is why you must serve the same kingdom with your blood, sweat, and tears -- Fix the destruction you feel responsible for instead of running behind me."

"People will never accept me," Einarr said.

"I do not ask you to be the king but a mere caretaker. They have no reason to refuse you when you are the one providing them with food, safety, and shelter. Rise now, and serve!" Sylvester was done talking with him and focused more on other tasks, such as the ongoing battle between Bishop Lazark and Azor Al Romana, the Dark Wizard.

Azor was clearly losing the battle. Bishop Lazark was able to easily overpower Azor no matter which moves the evil Dark Wizard made. It appeared the man had the knowledge to make the plague but not the power to back his evil endeavors.

"Why is he so weak?" Sylvester asked his favorite necromancer. "Isn't he supposed to be your mentor?"

"He is," Bishop Lazark answered while remaining standing in calm. "He made a contract with a demon for a prolonged life. But, as with all demon contracts, there were hidden tricks. Azor did receive a long life, but that didn't mean his magic would not deteriorate. Due to that, he's magically weaker than an Archwizard."

"Then why are you still fighting him? Just arrest him."

Bishop Lazark lowered his gaze. "I held no attachment to my brother, but this man... He was like a father to me. I do not have it in me to kill him."

'A father figure? Then... With his death, Lazark will truly be without a family.'

Sylvester wondered if it bothered the man, but he didn't pry too much. It was not the time to sit, drink and talk. For that, they'd have enough moments in the Holy Land.

"Then, let's arrest him and get the complete cure for the plague. If it's mass-producible, it will help us a lot. Use your undead to bring him down and put the Darkstone cuffs on him." Sylvester ordered.

Following that, Sylvester decided to follow Sir Dolorem and ensure everything was going well with arresting the Widowmakers.

Everything had gone smoothly, but the anxiety still didn't vanish from his heart as he worried about the events he didn't see with his own eyes.

"I hope King Highland was able to defeat Vinland easily."

'And Kaecilius didn't get killed.' Sylvester didn't say the second part out loud.

Cough!

"L-Lord Bard!"

Just then, a weak voice called Sylvester's name. Upon looking, it turned out to be Archbishop Nelson sitting in his wheelchair, looking old and on the verge of death, but still with a broad smile on his face.

"I... I wish to speak with you... I don't have l-long."

Thud!

The Archbishop dragged himself out of the wheelchair, letting himself drop on the dirt. He then proceeded to crawl towards Sylvester.

But Sylvester rushed to him and stopped him quickly. "What are you doing, your grace? Please sit in the wheelchair."

"I... I just wanted to..." Archbishop breathed heavily as if he was having trouble doing so.

Sylvester sat down and helped the Archbishop sit up beside himself. But, the old man, instead of sitting straight, proceeded to raise his shivering hand slowly and touch Sylvester's face. Soon, tears slid down the Archbishop's eyes.

"I heard so much about you and your hymns, yet damned be my blind eyes to not notice you in your disguise," Archbishop said. "L-Lord Bard... I-Is Solis real?"

Sylvester bobbed his head. "If he wasn't, do you think I'd exist?"

Even more tears welled up in the old man's eyes. "Then... I am blessed by your presence. T-Thank you for saving the Sorrow... K-Kingdom."

Sylvester let the old man rest his head down a bit. "I did what my duty compelled me to do, Archbishop. Now, please stay calm, as I will try and heal you."

"No." Archbishop held Sylvester's hand. "My time has come. I-I waited for this moment for decades."

"Old man!" Count Bradley arrived then. "Don't die! Or I will die too."

Archbishop frowned. "I will haunt you as a vengeful spirit of you dare kill yourself, Count. You still have strength in you! You can still do a lot of good! Your disease, it's a mere test, and you have not passed it yet."

Cough!

The Archbishop's breath became heavier, and he focused back on Sylvester. "M-My Lord... Once, can I hear your hymn? For the last time?"

Sylvester took a long breath, seeing clearly that the old man had a few minutes left at best. So Sylvester entertained the man's last wish. He had already seen that the Archbishop had memorized his older hymns.

"Saint Paul! Please don't die!"

By then, the crowd of peasant soldiers had gathered around, and many faces had tears. The legend of Saint Paul was known all around the Sorrow Kingdom, after all--a strange selfless clergyman helping folks for no reason.

Sylvester decided to make the dying man happy, so he let Count Bradley help the Archbishop sit while he took out the violin to play. Then, the halo returned abruptly, though this time much warmer and more soothing than ever.

♫O' wandering man of faith, the Saint of hearts.

You are the bane of wraith, master of sacred arts.

Wherever you stand, the holy blessing starts.

With your mere presence, the knowledge departs.♫

♫A long journey you traveled to this forgotten land.

Diligent, honest, and kind, you made no demand.

In the face of evil, forever, you continued to stand.

Words can't describe it, for your story is so grand.♫

"Hah..." Archbishop Nelson's chest rose and fell faster. His eyes slowly closed down, yet his smile remained ever so big.

Tears became all too common among all those who saw the scene. Archbishop Nelson was too loved, and his demise was coming too soon.

♫May your legacy never lose its trace.

For you, my friend, are impossible to replace.

I bow my head, thankful for your warm grace.

May the Holy Light guide you to Lord's embrace.♫

Silence fell following Sylvester's last words. The Archbishop's chest never rose again, and the breath was never regained. The man was gone from the world after decades of serving those who never asked for it -- in the name of a church that never cared for him.

Sylvester put his violin away and placed a silk cloth on the Archbishop's face, a man he truly respected.

"Thank you for blessing this world with your kind soul."

...

"May you rest in peace, good man."

Many miles away, on a mountain, a man stood and watched the kind Archbishop take his last breaths. Despite being so far away, he saw it with ease. What was impossible to mortals was a slight inconvenience to him, a Supreme Wizard.

Dark grey hair, a tall body, and all-black robes -- He was Julius Aurelius Alexander, the Chief of Anti-light.

"Night Commander, the report is here." A woman exclaimed and stood still in her spot stiffly.

Julius gestured with a wave of his hand for her to continue.

"Commander, at the age of eighteen, Sylvester Maximilian is likely an Archwizard and a Platinum Knight already. His mother is a Bright Mother, for whom he'd burn the church if it ever came to it.

"He is a scheming monster, but he does it for good. We are yet to find any of his actions going against humanity. So we have no reason to chase him or harm him." The woman finished summarizing the report.

Julius smiled as if he already knew of that outcome. "Then you have no need here. Convey my orders -- disperse from here and continue humanitarian work. Earn the trust of the people in this kingdom."

"Understood, Night Commander. May the dusk prevail!"

Now alone, Julius Aurelius Alexander continued watching the scenes unfold, fascinated by everything he saw.

"Hmmm... Sylvester Maximilian... The more I see you, the more I admire you. But will you be my blessing? Or my bane?"

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