I Became The Pope, Now What?

"Your Majesty?"

King Highland turned to Sylvester and leaped forward, embracing the bard in a hearty tight hug. "Welcome to the Highland Kingdom, Young Bard! When I heard you had taken a detour, I came to collect you myself! My Queen consort has ordered the finest accommodations and cuisine to be prepared in your honor!"

"..."

Sylvester was not too shocked by the way the King acted. The cheerful and energetic aura was the trademark of probably the happiest king in the realm. After all, why should he not be happy when he and his wife were both Grand Wizards? That meant they were powerful enough to solve all their own problems and did not have to rely on so-called elders.

Thud!

All the commoners and knights knelt down to show their reverence to the mighty King. Although the Highland Kingdom may not have been the wealthiest, it was undoubtedly the most peaceful over the past few decades. Gracia was always preoccupied with Riveria, and the Sorrow Kingdom was immersed in its own sorrows. This left the Highland Kingdom to its own devices, and the King was a significant factor in that.

"Rise, my people! Prepare for a feast. Today, the illustrious Lord's Bard and I shall dine here." The King ordered the commoners and then turned to Sir Dolorem. "It appears I must conduct a thorough purge throughout my realm. Both you and Lord's Bard call my Kingdom home, yet both of you have been wronged by the nobles and the powerful here -- I apologize."

Sir Dolorem swiftly prevented the King from lowering his head any further. "No, your Majesty. A man who oversees the entire Kingdom cannot be concerned with what occurs in a small town."

"I'm afraid you are correct! That is why I have ordered my Royal Knights to bring Baron Nightwood here! He will be beheaded here as well." The King exclaimed.

With nothing else to do, Sylvester allowed Sir Dolorem to do whatever he wanted. However, he remained by the veteran inquisitor's side. He did not want to be absent if emotions were to overcome him. Meanwhile, the King decided to mingle with the commoners and went to cook with his people. He was genuinely a man of the people and demonstrated why his people held him in such high esteem.

"This is where we used to reside." Sir Dolorem escorted Sylvester to a two-story building. It was no longer charred, as the reconstruction had been carried out years prior. Nevertheless, from the outside, it still looked the same.

For a good while, Sir Dolorem didn't move and remained standing in place. His blue eyes gleamed with a hint of sorrow and longing. His brows remained low, revealing the sadness was apparent on his face.

"Let us enter and see," Sylvester suggested and knocked on the door. As soon as the door opened, he handed a gold coin to the middle-aged woman. "I am Archbishop Sylvester from the Holy Land, and this is Sir Dolorem, the former owner of this building who lived here as a child. He wishes to revisit his home and reminisce about some old memories. I would be grateful if you allowed us to enter."

The woman glanced at Sylvester's face and was instantly charmed. "Y-Yes... Please..."

Sylvester glanced back at Sir Dolorem and followed him inside. Since the King was in town, the house was empty, and they were not disturbed by anyone.

'He's being too silent. The smell of rotten meat and tangerines is so clear, his sadness and anxiety are rising.' Sylvester made observations and remained close to the Inquisitor.

"This was my room," Sir Dolorem paused at the door and looked at the walls. "My brother and I shared this room for years. He was older than me but not wiser. We often joked about becoming great men in the future, outdoing each other."

Sir Dolorem turned around and stopped near the cooking area, a room that could be called a kitchen, but it was too large, as it had a traditional hearth for cooking. "My mother, aunts, and grandmother were always here... They often gave us children secret treats. Every dinner, we would all sit on the floor and eat together, laugh, and share our worries."

Sylvester listened intently to Sir Dolorem's life story. A faint smile of sadness played on his face. After all, Sylvester had never experienced such a family life in either of his two lives. In his previous life, he was orphaned, and in the new one, it was just his mother and him on the run, trying to survive.

Sir Dolorem slowly ascended to the first floor and paused in a vast room that was more like a hall. "This was my wife's workroom, a big one as she loved painting and had canvases scattered around. She was... amazing and gentle. She filled this house with joy and laughter that I had forgotten for years."

'I can understand, my friend.' Sylvester suddenly imagined an illusion of his beloved late wife from the past. He wasn't sad, however, for he had gotten over it. But he loved her truly, and that wasn't something he wanted to forget. She had made his painfully boring life colorful, just as Sir Dolorem experienced in his life.

"And this..." They finally came to a smaller room, and a big smile formed on Sir Dolorem's face as he brushed his hand on the walls. "This was my Nicolas' playroom. My wife, Livia, delighted in creating new toys for him with her artistry and craftsmanship. She made sure he never felt my absence... and in this very room."

Sir Dolorem choked up and stared at the floor, where a small black blemish was visible. Veins formed on his forehead, and his fists clenched. "This is where they drew their last breaths."

Sylvester approached him and rested his palm on Sir Dolorem's shoulder.

"I always wonder what their last moments were like. The dread they must have felt... My son, I could not be his hero that day, no matter how much he may have called for me... I failed them as a father and a husband."

Sylvester did not walk around to face Sir Dolorem, as he knew those eyes had tears in them. He knew better than any that a man tries his best to never cry, and if they ever do, they never show the tears.

"Yet another Shane and his mother," Sylvester muttered with low breath. "Burned away by the madness of another. Isn't this why we are fighting our way forward, Sir Dolorem?"

Sir Dolorem nodded his head but didn't look back. "I often wonder... Of all the evil men we fight, how many of them suffered through the same fate as we -- and opposite to us, chose the path of evil?"

"Evil is not born. It's made." Sylvester quoted and asked a follow-up question. "Do you have no other family left?"

Sir Dolorem shook his head. "When I was eighteen and became a squire in the Inquisition, my whole family perished due to a plague. I survived because I was a wizard and was training in the encampment."

'An orphan then... Like me.' Sylvester found so many similarities between Sir Dolorem and his own life.

He could not help but appreciate him for being sane even after losing so much. "Well, I never said this but... Without you, I would not be here. You taught me the basics of magic and cared for me until I could walk and protect myself. Even now, you've been shown nothing by loyalty."

Sylvester walked a step forward to Sir Dolorem's side and put one arm around the man's shoulder. He walked and pulled Sir Dolorem to the window, from where they could see the sun and distant lands with grass and farmland.

"Sir Dolorem, must I confess, I was born with more brains and brawns than kids usually are. I understood some things around me, but the world still felt too dangerous. Mother looked frightened all the time, and due to that, I felt scared all the time... That was until you joined my company and never left."

Sir Dolorem looked at Sylvester, who was a head taller than him and much more muscular. "It was my duty, Lord Bard."

Sylvester smiled and shook his head. He turned to Sir Dolorem and noticed the remnants of tears in the man's eyes. He vigorously patted Sir Dolorem's shoulder as if cleaning the armor while speaking.

"If it was duty, then I must say, you went far and beyond your duty. Sir Dolorem, I should have said this before, but I will correct my mistake now."

After a pause, with gratitude from the bottom of his heart, Sylvester pulled the old and likely tired knight into a warm brotherly embrace.

"Thank you for being such an amazing father to me."

"Hah..." A strong gasp escaped Sir Dolorem's mouth as Sylvester's words hit him hard and unexpectedly.

Sir Dolorem's shoulder drooped as if all the weight and sorrow were lifted from them. His eyes, yet again, felt heavy and watery, so he hugged Sylvester back, not wanting to display those tears and seem feeble.

Sylvester didn't release the old man either and just closed his eyes as all the old memories flashed in his mind. The days of youth when he played around with the man, the days when he faced death with him by his side -- He never knew what it felt like to have a father before, but now he knew.

'Thank you, Sir Adrik Dolorem.'

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[A/N: Sorry if the two chaps felt slow and too dramatic for you guys. I just wished to give this scene a proper end. Thank you for reading.]

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