When A Mage Revolts

At the same moment.

St. Peter’s Cathedral. A rest room at the end of the corridor.

The Pope and Bishop were standing in a room, looking down at a bedridden Holy Knight.

There was no one else in the restroom. The Holy Knight had a red face, with his eyes tightly shut. He was twitching about and having spasms, showing signs that his condition was critical.

It seemed that he had been infected with the raging "plague".

"Plague? Who has spread such rumours?" Suddenly the Pope snorted in disgust. "It’s obviously forcing us to remove the ban. The mages in the capital are running more and more rampant."

The Bishop had his head down, observing the passed out Holy Knight. He spoke after a momentary silence.

‘This type of curse is very unique and can only be broken by His Highness the Pope. If wouldn't be easy to apprehend, if others were to attempt. However, there’s at least thirty thousand people in the city that are cursed, it’s not a magnitude we could handle.

Even with the Bishop’s poker face, one could still hear the severity of his tone when he spoke of this.

The Pope turned to face the Bishop.

"Do you think that the brat from Lithur household was the one who unleashed the curse?"

The Bishop quickly shook his head, "This Benjamin Lithur, is indeed strange. I have investigated with the help of the eyes and ears of the nobles and read his memories several times. His memories were always clean and did not show any indications of becoming a mage. Although he did have some unusual moves during this moment, they didn’t seem suspicious to me."

The Pope raised his white hairy brows.

"Memories never lie," he murmured to himself. "The first Pope left us a heavenly weapon that wouldn’t have this slip up unless he was a descendent of the Holy Spirit."

"Indeed," the Bishop nodded.

The conversation came to an awkward halt as the Bishop and Pope did not speak further. They found it quite hard to comprehend the happenings intertwining with Benjamin.

The only sound that could be heard was the moaning and groaning of the Holy Knight in bed.

A while later.

"Is there any progress towards the investigation on the Lithur household?" The Pope changed the topic after he was apparently stumped by the previous issue.

"Little," the Bishop shook his head again with a sense of helplessness. "We managed to uncover some magic related items from his room. All of them pointed to a beginner level mage. We couldn’t find any clues in relation to the huge Water Ball as well as the curse."

"What about their memory?" The Pope continued asking.

"We only drew the memories of all the maids based on the previous agreement," replied the Bishop. "Although nothing much came out of it, there were traces that his personality underwent change after his kidnap."

The Pope snickered as if he heard something funny yet atrocious.

It was not directed at the account of Benjamin’s personality change but rather the agreement that the Church would not draw the memories of the nobles that he expressed his dissatisfaction.

"Agreement..." His voice turned deep in dismal with a hint of anger. "Why should we treat the Lithur household as part of the nobles after all that happened? Their offence of hiding a mage is enough to expel them from aristocracy. Not to mention..."

"Your Highness the Pope." The Bishop interrupted him, "Don’t forget about Grant."

"..."

The Pope’s anger deflated like a balloon and diminished into thin air.

He sighed as he shook his head, no longer continuing his sentences. He narrowed his eyes to a painting in the room. That ever holy and heavenly figure that was portrayed by early people.

"Grant..."

He dragged his tone with a complicated expression.

The Bishop too, stared at the painting and said, "God willing."

The Pope nodded in agreement and repeated, "God willing."

The two stared at God on the mural in silence, as if it was prayer time. The way they pursed their lips, they could be reciting in the hearts the Bible’s original scriptures, individually paying for different matters.

As time past...

The Pope sighed once again and broke the majestic yet gloomy silence in the room. He looked solemn as he wrinkled his forehead.

He turned to look at the Holy Knight who had lost his consciousness.

"This form of curse, reminds me of a person," The Pope said.

The Bishop seemed to know the person the Pope was referring to but he had a different opinion.

"That was years ago, Your Highness the Pope. You need not dwell on this matter. The person had died long ago and even if there are others who imparted his skill, they are unable to replicate what happened that year." He spoke slowly but affirmatively, "Benjamin Lithur. This mage who surpasses all boundaries, is worth the watch."

The Pope turned to the Bishop in utmost gravity, "So you think that the brat was imparted with the skill and unleashed the curse?"

"That is not important." The Bishop did not answer the questions and reminded the matter at hand, "No matter who cast the curse, the person has gotten what he asked for. Now everyone wishes to flock out of the city. The gates of Havenwright will hold no further."

The Pope inhaled deeply as if there was an uphill struggle that only he could handle.

"We cannot let him out of the city, he is just too unique," the Pope uttered with determination. "Even if we have to segregate the entire Church’s workforce and make a few sacrifices."

"Indeed," nodded the Bishop.

The Pope lowered his head in thought as he tried to figure plans to recapture Benjamin.

It was possibly a simple matter or a rather difficult task. The reason being that they were not aware of Benjamin’s true capability in order to draw an appropriate plan. They were afraid if they were to underestimate his ability and rashly sent their men out, it could cause the Church unnecessary damage.

The Pope thought of this, long and hard.

"If we are unable to hold the gates, then let them be opened." He raised his head and continued, "The elusive devil is hiding too well and who knows how long more he is capable to hold it off. We won't be able to lure him out without opening the gates and casting some bait."

"Then who will surveille after him once we manage to trace him?" Asked the Bishop.

The Pope paced towards the exit and opened the door. He glanced at the empty yet heavily ornamented corridor of dome and spoke as he looked over his shoulder. His face bearing wrinkles that simulated a criss-crossing canyons with a stern gaze.

"You and I."