I Became The Pope, Now What?

Chapter 361 361. Wilful Prisoners

The earth beneath their feet shook as the thunderous hooves of the Barbarian horses approached the Winter Army with malevolent intent. There were nearly a hundred thousand of them, and all were fit, clean and full of energy. It was clear the leader of the Storst faction had not brought his entire army before and was awaiting an opportunity to strike.

"Lay down your weapons and surrender! We wish you no harm unless you dare attack us!" The heavy voice of Elder Chief Koruk bellowed in the darkness of the night.

The barbarian soldiers surrounded the Winter Army from all sides and brandished their swords or spears. This was different, the Winter Army knew. Fighting the undead was easier as their attacks were predictable. But here, fighting a human army that had greater numbers while they were tired, it was suicide.

Sylvester was not really unconscious, but he acted like that. He feared that if he stayed awake, then the soldiers would have a false sense of security that he could deal with this too, since he dealt with the Emperor Lich.

"I will not repeat. This is the last warning. Surrender, or die!" Again, Elder Chief Koruk roared, this time his voice full of rage.

Thud!

Quickly, Lady Aurora put her sword down. "We surrender. No need for bloodshed. But do remember that if any of us are harmed, the Holy Land will send every fighter of the Holy Army and Inquisitors to kill you all!"

"As I stated, we wish you no harm," Koruk repeated and nodded towards the other Grand Wizards, ensuring them that he was sticking to Sylvester's plan.

"I surrender. My soldiers are not fit to fight anymore." Gideon Gracia lowered his weapon as well.

Following them, Winter Ghost also relaxed and bobbed his head. He had no real sword or spear, so he had nothing to put down. But, seeing the three surrender, the Winter Army also put their swords, shields, spears and daggers down.

? Chief Koruk signalled to his soldiers to start moving and pushing the Winter Army. "Turn around and enter the Frozen City. Do not fight, do not resist, and I promise respectable treatment!"

Lady Aurora took charge and walked to the front. "Do not be afraid, soldiers! You will return home soon, I assure you."

One of the reasons she walked at the front was because the Inquisitors currently occupied the Frozen Town, so they had to be first dealt with, or else they might attack and ruin the whole plan.

The Winter Army moved, picked up their unconscious comrades on the way too, and slowly the small town got overcrowded. Eventually, the underground prison started to fill up to the brim and ran out of space. So Gideon Gracia had to use Earth magic discreetly to expand the underground prison.

As the midnight hour approached, a tally was taken. It was determined that of the two hundred thousand soldiers who comprised the Winter Army, a commendable one hundred and eighty thousand had emerged victorious from the Battle of River Pass. It was a magnificent victory under Sylvester's leadership.

As per the promise, the prisoners were also provided with a modest combination of meat stew, rice, boiled potato, boiled eggs, and some bread. Even medical aid and fire for warmth were provided.

Sylvester soon woke up from his false slumber and tested the surroundings to see the soldiers' mood. He smelled not much sorrow, and instead, there was hope. The food had clearly cheered them up.

"So, can you tell us the plan now? Why are we locked in here?" Felix asked him without prying too much.

The other Guardians were similarly looking confused and hoping for some answers.

Sadly, he still could not tell them anything as what he had planned needed more than a week to show results. So, he kept his answer vague. "It's a plan to heal the wounds inflicted on Gracia Kingdom. Along with the Pope and his Sanctum Council, we are currently underway in a massive operation that, if successful, will secure the region from further deterioration."

Sighing, Sir Dolorem spoke while sitting near a wall. "It is understandable if the matter is important to the Holy Father. As long as soldiers here get their meal and warmth, I believe they will obey your command."

Sylvester appreciatively smiled towards the blind Inquisitor. He knew that Sir Dolorem had said those words to indirectly tell the other Grand Wizards to shut up and sit down silently, for the Bard was at work.

"Correct, Sir Dolorem." Sylvester respectfully spoke with them as the Grand Wizards were all stronger and higher ranked than him. "I ask you all to be patient and relax. Try to recuperate the lost energy and heal yourself for anything unexpected. I estimate that our stay here will last a week."

Clack!

Thud!

Suddenly, the prison cell's door opened, and a man was thrown inside. The man, old and tall, was wearing the Inquisitor's uniform.

"Commander Belmont!" Sylvester recognised the man as the head of the Inquisitors.

But, the man didn't appear well, as his clothes were torn and dirty, his face devoid of all emotions and his eyes red as blood.

Sylvester helped him stand up quickly. "Commander, what happened to you? Felix! Bring water, quick!"

"No! I deserve to be killed, Lord Bard. I could not fulfil your order. I failed in my duty. I failed as a commander and servant of Solis." Commander Belmont exclaimed and knelt before Sylvester.

'Smell of rotten flesh and the same emptiness as Augustus… What the fuck happened to him?'

Sylvester knelt and forced the man to look up at him. "Tell me in detail what happened?"

"I… I failed, Lord Bard. We killed the Barbarians and separated the children below the age of seven. But, one child stabbed an Inquisitor, and the wild rage took over the minds of my soldiers. They… They killed all the innocent little children. Nobody survived, my lord… Everyone in the town died." Commander Belmont confessed with a heavy heart and a broken voice.

He lowered his head further and demanded punishment. "I have no words to defend myself, Lord Bard."

Sylvester took a long breath and rubbed his face with one palm, tired of the mess that kept piling up. On the one hand, he had thought the Inquisitors were the best for committing a controlled genocide, but he forgot how overzealous they become and hard to control.

'This is on me…'

"Rise, Commander. It was not your fault. To protect oneself and one's allies is a basic instinct. What happened was an accident, and let it remain as that. Learn from this mistake and move on, for there are many places left where your services are required." Sylvester patted the Commander's shoulders and cheered him up.

'I can't kill him even if I wish to. He's a Commander, and to kill him for murdering some kids who were not believers of Solis—I'd be negatively criticised.'

"B-But my lord, you said those children would be believers of Solis in the future. By killing them, I have harmed the faith itself. How can I be forgiven?" The Commander insisted on being punished with death.

'Ugh! These morons and their overzealous, brainwashed minds. The best and the worst soldiers of the Church at the same time.' Sylvester felt a headache develop.

He raised his palm, poured some light magic on the Commander, and ordered him in a severe tone. "Commander Belmont, you dare question my words? Do you dare run away from your responsibilities? Your demise will naturally come when Solis feels you have fulfilled your duty. Until then, you, me and all of us are slaves to our unknown destiny."

Commander Belmont looked up with a purpose in his eyes. He then slowly rose to his feet and saluted Sylvester. "Understood, Lord Bard."

"You should have some rest now." Sylvester dismissed him and sent him to a hard stone bed beside a wall.

After that, Sylvester sat beside Sir Dolorem on the ground and closed his eyes too. There was nothing to do except wait and hope that everything outside was going well. However, the prison was never silent, as there were too many soldiers, and they talked all the time.

'If my plan works well, then the rank of Bishop should not be beyond my grasp. This time, I will have two Supreme Council members speaking for me and convincing others. Perhaps the Pope will support me as well.'

He sighed and hugged Chonky to his chest before drifting into a fragile sleep. His body still ached and bled in a few places. But he was thankful that his bones were fixed.

Living for so many years with so many things going wrong at any moment, he had learnt to appreciate the little graces. It didn't matter if they came from Solis or other places.

…

Sylvester's plan was vast and spanned not just the Gracia Kingdom but Riveria and Highland Kingdoms as well. For months, ever since Sylvester stepped foot in the North, the plan had taken shape, and the preparations were made over time.

Money was spent like water, and no resources were left unused. In secrecy, everything was conducted, and soon enough, in random locations, many throats started to be slit open.

Sometimes on a busy city street, sometimes inside an alleyway, and sometimes in homes. Men came like shadows and killed other men as swiftly as a spring breeze. All murders occurred as planned, on the same day, at the same hour—across the three kingdoms, in every duchy, county and barony.

Bodies fell, and with that, days passed, and two weeks elapsed. Then, in the North, at the Frozen Town, the soldiers in the dungeon grew tired to the point that even the stone-hearted Inquisitors had a change of heart.

?She's got a smile that could light up the room,

And a laugh that makes me forget my doom.

With a twinkle in her eye and a sway in her hips,

She's got a charm that just can't be missed.?

Sylvester somehow got a violin out of 'nowhere' and started playing it and singing, entertaining the Winter Army. But, contrary to the prayers, he sang for fun this time and made the men laugh or sing along. This was his way of getting close to his soldiers as a General.

?O' my tigress, you walk by, rocking your blonde hair.

Merely seeing you makes it hard to breathe air.

Oh! My mistake, she actually walking over my body.

I know many here secretly hold such a hobby.?

The soldiers laughed, and the ones who knew a friend with such masochist hobbies called them out, only to laugh further in friendly joking jabs. Of course, in Sylvester's cell, it was Felix, the man who was by default seen as the filthiest desperate bastard when it came to love.

?She walks above, with a face looking disgusted.

Even she didn't know that such men existed.

But if the man has money, and name, and fame.

With a show of gold, even the tigress becomes tame.?

The soldiers nodded, knowing very well that women were easy to win over in their harsh world as long as they had deep pockets. After all, how else do those filthy fat lords get beautiful wives?

Ting!

"Archpriest Sylvester…"

Suddenly, Sylvester stopped playing the violin and looked at the cell wall with metal bars. There now stood a man with a bright glowing lantern under oversized hooded robes. But his face was clear, expressionless and bald.

Sylvester walked over. "Saint Seer."

The master spy nodded and passed over a little parchment, which Sylvester wasted no time opening and reading.

"The filth has been washed—The greedy demons have been quashed."

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