I Became The Pope, Now What?

Sylvester stopped in his tracks and picked Miraj to keep him in front of his face. "Say that again. You want me to kill all the slaves?"

Miraj looked into Sylvester's eyes with the will of fire. "You said you can't take any risk, so… Kill them. At least that will save them from their misery."

"Even the kiddies?"

Miraj nodded instantly. "Especially the kiddies. They are so small and weak that they can't defend themselves or even run fast. So they will be at the mercy of the bad man and be hurt every day. So, hurt them once and end them."

Sylvester hated it, but he had to agree with Miraj. True, the kids would most likely be exploited—in an excruciating manner. After all, no sane man would buy a child for manual labour. Instead, they'd buy them only for their sick fetishes.

"Chonky, you're absolutely right. But your emotions can't stay hidden from me. I see the sadness in your eyes. Fine, we shall only help the kiddies. But, from an indirect manner as I don't wish to have myself be personally involved and fall on the wrong side of some big slave master. I already have enough assassins after me."

Pat!

Miraj patted Sylvester's head. "Maxy is a good boy."

Sylvester patted him back. "No, you're the good boy. Let's move now. I have to check the Holy land's entrance as well. Can't give those pesty Cardinals more reasons to step over me."

So, wasting no time, Sylvester hurried back towards the Holy Land's entrance. The long line of the commoners and the coaches of the nobles were as long as ever. However, a third empty path was reserved for the church's carriages.

But Sylvester's carriage stopped after arriving at the gates, sending the soldiers into a frenzy as they held their weapons of choice.

"Stand down!" Sylvester's voice echoed in a commanding tone. He knew that his age, youthful looks and rank may make some men act unruly, so he had to establish his authority fast.

"I am Sylvester Maximilian, Lord's Bard, Grand Crusader, and currently the acting overseer of the Season of Solis for this region. Commander of the gates, report to me." He ordered the men openly.

Sylvester was both lucky and unlucky to be working for the church. Because in the church, one's clergy rank defined seniority, while outside, one's wizard or knight rank defined one's seniority. Yes, Sylvester was given high authority in some cases, but if he was outside, working for some King, then he could've been a high-ranking noble already with his monstrous talent and current Archwizard rank. Perhaps, he could've been a Count easily, if not a Marquess.

Here, he could see the rank plate of the commanders. These men were supposed to be the first line of defence of the Holy Land, so obviously, they were supposed to be strong. Hence, out of the two Gate commanders, one was an Arch Wizard, and the other was a Diamond Knight, a rank on the same level as Grand Wizard but much weaker and more common.

Still, due to his authority, Sylvester outranked them. Hence, the two commanders had to salute him.

'Thank goodness, at least they have no hatred or jealousy against me and only worship.'

He saluted back and asked. "How is the process of entry done? What's the reason behind such a long line?"

"Lord Bard, we have five tables at the gatehouse where each can handle six to ten people every hour. But this year, the crowd is much bigger as many refugees have appeared in the north, and they wish to plead for help from the lord. Not only that, line cutting, skirmishes among the people, and such events are delaying everything." Wizard commander answered.

Sylvester looked at the endless line of the commoners. Then, he glanced at the noble's side, and there were at least two hundred carriages in the line.

"What about the noble's situation then?"

At that, the Knight-ranked Commander spoke. "That… I'm afraid their delay is the fruit of their own labour. Since they arrive in carriages, with a lot of luggage, we have to check everything. In most cases, they bring certain items that are prohibited inside—Such as alcohol, food plants, or any weapons. When we try to confiscate them, they argue with us for a long time and threaten us with their status. This causes a delay."

Sylvester rubbed his chin and walked towards the gatehouse, where four tables were set side by side. There, the soldier would first write the pilgrim's name, place of birth, and parent's name. Then, the same man would get up and search the pilgrim from head to toe. After that, each pilgrim would be given a small stamp on the back of the hand, declaring they were clear.

Behind each table were two more men, each with staff and an orb. Each pilgrim would be made to touch the orb, and their magical or knightly talent would be checked. Then they would be sent to the side for possible career advice if they had decent talent.

The whole process for a single pilgrim would last fourteen minutes. It was very inefficient. But, since the crowd was too much, he could understand why they were having trouble.

"Stop the admission for a few minutes, please. Obey my orders and make the changes, and by the end, we shall have increased the efficiency of the process. Commanders, move the second and third tables behind the first, and fourth and fifth behind the second row." Sylvester started ordering them around without explaining anything.

His voice was resolute enough to make them move fast.

"Alright. Now, the first desk's only job is to write the details of the pilgrim. Two men can sit there, I believe. Behind him, the second and third tables shall check the pilgrims thoroughly. Then the fourth and fifth tables shall test the orbs. The process must run non-stop, and it will increase efficiency." He ordered and continued the movement of the pilgrims.

This time, it felt more efficient as the moment the first desk wrote the names, the second pilgrimage would come forward. It became an efficient chain reaction.

"W-What about the nobles, Lord Bard?" The Wizard Commander asked. They didn't say anything overly praiseful to Sylvester as what he did was just common sense, and they were, in fact, embarrassed.

Sylvester shrugged. "Let them suffer. Just tell your men to stay calm, and if any noble tries to physically attack our men—Send them back home. I also want…"

Thud!

All of a sudden, a crash resounded, and Sylvester glanced back. An old woman had fallen in the line from a heatstroke.

Sylvester rushed and conjured some water to splash on her face. In no time, healers also arrived and took the woman along.

But that also revealed a weakness to him. "Commanders, the line is long, and the tree shade is limited. Get two men to continuously drive a cart back and forth the entire length, offering water. Remember, these are respected pilgrims—the children of Solis like you and me. Their hardship is their test, but we can't let our guests face death, can we?"

"It shall be done, Lord Bard."

"Great. I also want daily evening reports from now on. I want to know how many people we processed, how many people fainted, and how many skirmishes happened. I will send a Knight by the name of Sir Zeek every evening to bring that report to me. And if something complex occurs, you must inform me quickly at the Administration office." Sylvester didn't waste too much time there or boss them around. Since he solved the issue of long lines to some degree, he was free to leave.

So, he made his way home since Xavia's water therapy was due for the day.

However, just as he was about to knock, he heard some laughter coming from inside. So he just opened the door and walked in.

"W-What?"

To his surprise, in the living room, Inquisitor High Lord was sitting on the wooden sofa, which was struggling to stay intact. Meanwhile, Aurora was in the kitchen with Isabella, and Xavia was in her wheelchair, not far from Inquisitor High Lord, appearing nervous.

"May the holy light enlighten us, Lord Inquisitor!" Sylvester saluted formally.

"At ease, young bard. I'm pleased to see your mother is not mortally wounded. I shall pray to the lord that your healing technique works." Inquisitor High Lord spoke, sounding much kinder and talkative compared to before.

"Sylvester!" Aurora shouted from the kitchen. "Take a seat! I'm cooking for dinner today."

'Does she even know how to cook?' Sylvester could not bring himself to feel confident about her.

"What are you even making?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing special. Just some bread and thick gravy stew with a lot of meat and vegetables." She chirped happily from the kitchen.

Sylvester nodded and sat there silently. But he couldn't bring himself to accept that everything was fine. His danger senses were tingling, trying to tell him something ominous was coming.

Slowly, an hour passed, and Sylvester had run out of topics to discuss with the Inquisitor High Lord. The big man had just returned from the Duchy of Ironstone and was on his way to report to the Pope. But it seemed his daughter trapped him to come and taste her cooking.

Now, no matter how serious and stoic Inquisitor High Lord was, Sylvester knew better that behind that scary mask and red eyes was a doting father who loved seeing his little girl succeed in life.

"Done! Here you go, one plate for you and another for my beloved old man." Aurora passed them a plate each.

'I'm not taking any chances.' Sylvester waited until the Lord Inquisitor took a bite. But then, another question arose. 'How is he going to eat with the visor in the way?'

Woosh!

'W-What? What just happened? He took a bite so fast I didn't even see how he did it.' Sylvester was left in more worry now.

"How is it?" Aurora asked.

Inquisitor High Lord's eyes shined, and he replied in soft praise. "Stupendously exquisite taste, Aurora. You have become much better at cooking. I'm delighted at the taste."

Sylvester, who heard the praises, looked at the food. 'Hmm… The bread looks great, and the stew is also pleasant. Is it really so good?'

Taking a leap of faith, he picked the first bite and chewed.

He kept chewing.

And kept going.

"A-Are you crying, Sylvester?" Aurora asked with puppy eyes.

Sylvester glanced at the Inquisitor High Lord and noticed the raging red eyes. 'These two fuckers! This is garbage! How can someone combine simple ingredients into this abominations? Ah… I feel like vomiting… Fuck you, Lord Inquisitor… Don't peer pressure me now!'

"Ahaha… It's so tasty that I couldn't hold back my tears. You're a master of cooking, Aurora." Sylvester praised her and stood up. "I will pack this and save the rest so the boys can taste it too."

Pat!

But Aurora pushed Sylvester back onto the couch. "No need. I invited them long ago. You just eat yours, and there is a lot more, so eat as much as you want."

Sylvester didn't want to. 'I can't! This will kill me! Yes, where is Chonky? He can save m-'

Just then, his eyes fell on Miraj's body on the kitchen counter near the large stew container. The cat was resting on its back, all paws vertically erect upward, and the eyes were closed.

'C-Chonky? My boy! Don't give up so fast! Save me first…!'

"What a delight, isn't it, young bard?" The Inquisitor High Lord spoke 'calmly'.

'Traitor!'

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