I Became The Pope, Now What?

Sylvester's resolve was set. He knew what he had to do to bring an end to Sir Dolorem's torment. The man had lived for far too long without closure, haunted by the tragedy that befell him years ago. It was time to put an end to Sir Dolorem's revenge chapter, and Sylvester was determined to see it through.

However, to reach Foxholm town, they would have to navigate the Tame River. There was a  road too, but it was a slow journey, adding two extra days to their travel. Unfortunately, the Tame River was not often used for ferry service, mainly for transporting goods.

So, Sylvester had to pay extra to someone for the journey. But in the end, they got one and went downstream. The Tame River was truly tame, with its flow so gentle that it was hard to even see the river moving. Even when going downstream, one needed the help of sails or oars to move the boats and ships. Otherwise, the journey would be too slow.

"We don't have to do this." Sir Dolorem tried to dissuade Sylvester from going any further.

But Sylvester knew how to read people and easily saw the true reason Sir Dolorem didn't want to go there. 'It seems he is scared of visiting that place again.'

"Sir Dolorem, when was the last time you visited Foxholm town?" Sylvester asked, knowing the answer.

"I have never returned to that cursed place since the day I lost everything," Sir Dolorem replied solemnly. "The place held no meaning for me. That is why, we do not need to go there. The fate that was written by the Lord has run its course."

Sylvester didn't budge. "Today, the Lord has decided to punish the heretics who dared harm the family of a church member. Above all… They dared act against my closest, most loyal friend. So, of course, I'm angry."

Sir Dolorem watched Sylvester in silence and didn't reject the proposal anymore. He was no fool and clearly saw that Sylvester was doing all that because he cared for him. But, no matter what, as they approached the town, his heart grew heavy. This was the place where he was born, where he fell in love, and where he welcomed his son into the world. Now, it was tainted by the memory of the tragedy that struck him out of nowhere.

Slowly, despite his attempts to suppress his emotions, a fiery rage began to rise within him. Yes, he was angry at those who took everything he loved away. He tried his best to suppress it, but it was hard to control it.

…

Sylvester was not alone; he was accompanied by knights from the Viscount, who served as his escort. When they disembarked at the port of Foxholm town, the people made way for the armed knights to pass by.

There were twenty knights in total, all clad in fine armor and donned with beautiful light-khaki cloaks. They hailed from a Viscounty abundant in iron and thus possessed the best and most lavish armors.

"Make way!" A knight shouted at the front as they rode their horses straight towards the town chief's house.

Though there were some town soldiers present, they were all unarmed and lacked the courage to stand up against the armed soldiers. So the town instantly submitted to the new arrivals, and those with some sense quickly retreated into their homes and locked the doors.

Eventually, they arrived in front of the chief's house. It was the biggest home in the entire town, and the most lavish as well, evidenced by the blooming garden outside the house. There were even some slaves tending to the garden.

Sylvester stopped outside and ordered the knights, "Go and drag the chief of the town out - be heavy-handed."

The knights knew exactly what Sylvester wanted, and they barged into the private property, kicking the door open and shouting for the chief. Loud screams and cries of women were heard from inside soon.

However, Sylvester felt no remorse for the women or anyone else in the house — the sinner had to be punished, no matter what.

"LET ME GO!"

Soon, roars came as an old man was dragged out of the house. The town's chief had white hair, a short height, and a somewhat fat body; he was in no way poor, and his whiter-than-normal skin told the story of how much hard work he did outside his house.

"Who are you? Do you know who my wife's brother is? He's the Baron! I will have all your heads!" The chief roared with all his might, trying to free himself.

Despite his threats, the knights only laughed, as they knew very well that Sylvester was the god there, and his word was the law at that point. The Archbishop's authority was hard to challenge, after all.

"Who sent you?" interrogated the chief.

Bam!

The chief was forced to kneel. Then, Sylvester approached and gazed down at the man's face with a large, yet intimidating, grin.

"God sent us! Tell me, do you recognize that man?" Sylvester gestured towards Sir Dolorem behind him.

The town chief, scared, stuttering, and somewhat irate, looked. He first squinted, trying to see clearly and recollect the face. He remained silent for a while, understandably so, as the last time Sir Dolorem visited the town was for the funeral of his family.

"Adrik? Is that you?" the chief blurted.

The smile vanished from Sylvester's face. "Knights, sever his left arm! A damned heathen dare call a noble Inquisitor Commander by his name."

"What?!" the chief panicked. "Stop! No no… I have known him since he was a child, that's why. I didn't mean any disrespect."

Sylvester looked back. "Sir Dolorem, do you feel disrespected?"

Sir Dolorem nodded his head in silence.

"See! Knights, proceed," Sylvester commanded them again.

This time, the knights lent by the Viscount were quick and precise. They made the chief bow forward by pushing his head while another knight grasped the man's arm to keep it raised. Then a third knight wielded his sword and swung it accurately at the bicep.

Woosh!

Thud!

The severed arm fell, and blood sprayed. The man screamed in agony and cursed anything and everything he could. Then he collapsed onto the floor and writhed.

Despite being a celebrated clergyman, he could not simply slay anyone, for that would disgrace the Holy Land. Hence, he had to clarify everything and remind the people of who their leader was.

"I am Archbishop Sylvester Maximilian, renowned as the Bard of the Lord! I am present here to meet out the punishment that you ought to have received years ago. Eighteen years ago, when you aspired to be the chief, you set fire to a house and murdered a family. Do you recollect?" Sylvester declared resonantly while glaring at the chief, imposing his authority on the masses.

"Aaa… I… I didn't do it!" The chief replied while in pain.

Sylvester glanced back and received a nod from Sir Dolorem once more. "For lying to an Archbishop, violating Article 5A, impeding the work of a clergyman, I order the knights to sever your other arm."

"N-n-noooo! Hold on! I was exonerated of all charges after the investigation! The actual perpetrator, Abe... he received his penalty!" Fueled by adrenaline, the chief implored and attempted to clarify, ignoring his pain.

Sylvester gestured to the knights with a nod. "Investigated by whom? The Baron? Your wife's brother? You slaughtered the wife and son of Inquisitor Commander Sir Dolorem on that day — Plead as much as you want, but you will pay for your sins today!"

Woosh!

The sword descended once more, and this time, it severed the second arm. The man shrieked in agony, and then the blazing hot sword was placed on the wound again to seal it shut. With that, more screams ensued.

However, Sylvester noticed something peculiar. He gazed at the house the man had emerged from and observed a few heads peering out of a window. This instantaneously prompted him to chortle in ridicule.

"Your own kin has forsaken you since they refuse to come forward. If they genuinely cared for you, they would have begged me to release you," he remarked. "It appears that nobody here would mind if I were to... terminate you."

"It was an accident! We did not intend to harm Sir Dolorem's family. The fire spread too quickly." the man bawled.

"That does not absolve you of the burden of your crime. The one who releases the arrow bears responsibility for where it lands. Sir Dolorem, let us conclude this matter and proceed to our next destination," said Sylvester, stepping back in readiness to order the beheading.

Sir Dolorem kept his gaze fixed on the chief's face. A tempest raged within his mind, yet he remained rational. What had transpired was in the past, and now he knew he owed his life to Sylvester, the one he had pledged to serve for eternity.

"Let us take him to Sand City for trial. I do not wish for King Highland to be irritated by this later. If anything, this will only delay his punishment," suggested Sir Dolorem.

"BEHEAD HIM!"

Out of nowhere, a third voice resounded all across the town and the skies. Everyone tried to look around themselves to find the source of the voice.

Sylvester, however, looked up and noticed a tiny black dot in the sky that gradually grew larger and larger. In no time, he recognized who it was.

Boom!

A man descended from the sky and landed flawlessly, without causing any damage to the surroundings. There was no dust, no crater, and no disorder. He wore majestic, shining golden armor adorned with ancient runes and crystals. The khaki-colored cape bore the royal family's insignia.

"As the King of this Kingdom, I condemn this man and the baron to death!"

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