The Reversed Hierophant

Rafael had another nightmare.

He woke up from the dream, drenched in sweat. This time it was better than before, at least he didn’t fall off the bed, but that was about it.

The thin Pope lay stiff and rigid on the bed with fear. In his perception, even the expensive and soft silk quilt became a weapon that would entangle him to death. Rafael tried to relax his body, but his overly tense muscles did not obey his command at all. He still followed his instinct and remained alert to the outside world.

A thin layer of sweat hung at the corners of his eyes, and his hair fell into his eyes, bringing an itchy and stinging pain, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. His trembling and desperate soul was still immersed in the aftermath of the nightmare, giving him the illusion that he would be killed if he closed his eyes.

After slowly breathing several times, Rafael finally regained a bit of his senses. He lifted the quilt and got out of bed, walked to the gas valve switch on the wall, and forcefully pulled the toggle switch up. The mechanism embedded in the wall began to operate, and the airflow made a hissing sound as it passed through the brass pipe. After a moment, the gas lamp in the room lit up steadily, casting a shadowless light in the room.

Rafael did not stop. He pulled the switch again, pressing the gas valve to the bottom. The light immediately changed from moderate to blinding white, and the huge and gorgeous top crystal chandelier was like a miniature sun, leaving no room for any shadows.

Surrounded by such light, Rafael finally calmed down.

He returned to the bed and sat for a while, using his hand to brush his slightly damp hair back, revealing a smooth forehead. The fire in the fireplace had died out, and the temperature was slowly dropping with the half-open window. After his rebirth, Rafael had become very resistant to anyone entering his bedroom, especially when he was alone, so he refused to let the servant come in at night to look after the fireplace. As a result, the temperature in the room would always be much lower in the second half of the night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in this steadily decreasing chill, he may have thought about something or nothing at all. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily, its mechanical, regular operation providing a silent, calming force. He finally felt a slight sense of peace, along with a belated drowsiness.

Rafael stood up, seemingly with no intention of turning off the light, and rolled up the thin duvet on the bed. With practiced ease, he walked to the decorative cabinet and stuffed himself and the duvet inside.

The cabinet was wide and low. The decorations inside had all been emptied one day according to the Pope’s order, but the original wooden boards and lattice partitions could not be removed and were still preserved. These things prevented him from lying down comfortably and flat, and there was also a strong smell of spices inside, which would make his head feel slightly dizzy after smelling it for a long time.

But Rafael needed this almost torturous kind of discomfort.

He curled up his body and wedged himself into the cabinet. The poor circulation of blood soon caused his limbs to feel cool and tingling. Amidst the needle-like pain and the dizziness brought on by the spices, Rafael obediently sank into an endless black dream.

____________________________

The next day, the bells of the celebration rang as scheduled. More people gathered in the Miracle Square than the day before. Amid the noisy crowd, a light drizzle began to fall. The sudden change in weather did not dampen people’s enthusiasm. The people of Florence were still having a merry time, laughing and joking while covering their heads with whatever wooden boards they had picked up from somewhere.

Ferrante had been standing at the door all night. His thin armor did not provide any insulation, his whole body felt as if it had been soaked in ice water. When it was time to change, his numb legs even made him unable to move for a while.

An experienced old guard bent down, squeezed Ferrante’s calf hard, and pounded it a few times. Ferrante almost grimaced at the sensation. A wave of soreness and numbness shot from his muscles to his brain, almost making Ferrante black out.

The old guard chuckled, clearly familiar with the feeling. When Ferrante recovered, he patted the black-haired young man on the shoulder: “Go eat quickly. There’s roast beef for breakfast this morning, all from freshly slaughtered calves. Let the cook pick the tenderest one for you!”

Ferrante gritted his teeth and nodded, before limping away with his short-haired companion, supporting each other.

Rafael finished his morning prayers, pushed open the door and went out. As soon as he stepped out, he was stunned.

It’s raining?

The sound of raindrops hit the ground, and a trace of irritation flashed across the usually smiling face of the young Pope. He remained silent all the way to the dining room, and the guards following behind him dared not make a sound, afraid of displeasing the Pontiff.

This obvious displeasure vanished, or rather, was neatly concealed when he stepped into the dining room and saw the person inside.

Julius was seated at the dining table waiting for him. A band was playing a cheerful morning tune, and the violinist was imitating the melodious singing of birds, the bow dancing lightly across the strings.

Rafael glanced at the large French window. The sound of rain had become inaudible, and through the glass he could only see the plants in the garden rustling.

His glance was very brief, but it was clearly seen by Julius who had been paying attention to him. Julius turned to the attendant beside him and whispered something, then stood up from the table and walked towards Rafael, subtly leading him away from the dining room.

The attendants who served the Pope in the papal palace were all efficient. By the time Julius and Rafael reached the neighboring Spring Flower Hall, the dining table there had already been set. Pleasant music was coming from behind the emerald velvet curtains, and the violinist was hidden behind them so as not to disturb the Pope’s meal.

This dining room was enclosed, with a ceiling painting depicting the Spring Goddess born from the palm of a deity. Various colorful flowers bloomed and cascaded from the top, transforming into real flowers as they neared the ground. Vines and ivy, sweet olive, licorice, mint, roses, and calamus were arranged into intricate shapes, climbing up the wall-mounted vines and turning the Spring Flower Hall into an indoor garden.

Rafael did not ask why they had changed dining rooms, and Julius did not say anything extra. The two of them finished a breakfast in a quiet and relaxed atmosphere, and it was still Rafael who left first.

Julius watched the young Pope leave, turned the Portia ring on his finger, and asked his attendant, “Where’s Francois?”

At yesterday’s celebration, Francois had only appeared for a short while, as arrogant as ever, arriving at an awkward time and almost blatantly displaying his contempt for the Pope.

When he arrived, Rafael had just left. François seemed unhappy that he wasn’t able to embarrass the Pope in person. He greeted Julius with a sullen face—and of course, he didn’t get anything out of it. Finally, he left with an unhappy expression.

Julius immediately understood what this arrogant Duke of Calais was planning. Probably because he controlled a vast empire, and even the Emperor of Calais had to watch his step around him. Yet, he couldn’t truly ascend to that throne. Thus, this regent duke harbored hostility towards anyone with a more legitimate status than him, as if trying to assert his own nobility by embarrassing others.

Sure enough, he heard his attendant reply, “The Duke of Francois’ carriage is already waiting at his gate. It will arrive at the papal palace in about twenty-five minutes.”

The banquet and celebration in the square would last for several days, and the banquet prepared for the Florentine nobility in the Papal Palace would certainly be no less spectacular. Upon hearing that François would arrive so early, Julius, who knew that he had no good intentions, raised his eyebrow slightly.

Originally, it wasn’t a big problem. Rafael had encountered such difficulties many times before and could handle them with ease. But…

Julius raised his eyes as if he could see through the walls and into the pouring rain outside.

“With such terrible weather today, there’s no need to trouble Duke Francois with a visit,” the head of the Portia family said lightly.

The servant, instantly understanding his master’s meaning, nodded. An hour later, as Rafael sat among the nobles, he heard news that Duke Francois’ carriage had broken down on the road. Apparently, a rivet on the wheel had come loose, and the wheel was detached from the body of the carriage. The carriage overturned to the side of the road, and the noble Duke had almost rolled into the dirty ditch.

Having suffered such an embarrassing incident in public, Duke Francois did not appear at the papal palace that day, which brought a hint of comfort to Rafael’s irritation.

He really hated that pompous peacock.

The joy he derived from this news made him maintain a pleasant demeanor even when he saw Sir Tondolo. Although Sir Goose’s incompetence was truly astonishing, Rafael still managed a smile.

“Holy Father, may your radiance continue to bless the great Florence.” Sir Goose bowed deeply to the ruler of Florence, a gesture that made one wonder if his long, thin neck would snap under the weight of his head when he looked up.

“Good day, Lord Tondolo,” Rafael calmly erased the idle thoughts from his mind and returned the polite greeting.

After the death of the elder Lord Tondolo, the younger Lord Tondolo had dropped the “younger” from his title, proudly ascending to become simply Lord Tondolo. But as Julius had informed Rafael, the dispute over the title between him and his brother had not yet been resolved, so the “Lord” here was merely a polite title and did not represent any actual title.

Sir Goose was obviously also very sensitive to the word “Lord”. His face twitched slightly when he heard it, and he seemed rather uneasy, stammering, “Holy Father, I am honored to be in your presence. Your benevolence and compassion have moved all the people of Florence. As I left the Tondolo Palace today, I heard praise for you along the way. In fact, this is not the first time I have heard such sincere praise, but I have not been able to meet you in person to convey the gratitude of the people…”

Rafael patiently maintained a smile as he listened to Tondolo’s flattery.

Three minutes later, Rafael’s smile began to falter.

Seven minutes later, the curve of Rafael’s lips had flattened.

Twelve minutes later, Rafael quietly looked at Tondolo.

Sir Goose, under the Pope’s gaze, broke out in a cold sweat, but he still insisted on talking nonstop. His face grew redder and redder, and his speech became increasingly unstable.

Finally, in this silent tug-of-war, Rafael sighed helplessly and raised a hand to stop Tondolo’s increasingly exaggerated flattery. He didn’t know where this set of words came from, but it sounded terribly corny and stiff. Rafael sincerely hoped that Tondolo hadn’t written it himself, otherwise, he would definitely add this Sir Goose to the Papal Palace’s blacklist.

When he made this gesture, not only did he himself feel relieved, but Tondole also looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Young Tondolo wiped the sweat from his face and gave Rafael a flattering but awkward smile: “Holy Father…”

Rafael’s head ached whenever he heard the word “Holy Father” now, and he quickly interrupted him: “You want me to help you obtain the Count title?”

Tondolo, who had been beating around the bush for so long without getting to the point, suddenly lit up. He nodded vigorously, then realized that his action was a bit inappropriate and broke into a sheepish grin.

Watching his series of actions, Rafael sighed silently again.

He finally understood why this young man was doing so poorly.

He was simply a complete fool.

Naive, childish, simple, and easily deceived.

He couldn’t beg, he couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t hide his emotions.

He didn’t know how this fool had grown up in the fame and fortune of Florence. Old Tondolo must have been heartbroken over this son.

Rafael offered his deepest sympathy to the deceased cardinal.

But this didn’t stop him from adding insult to injury.

Although taking advantage of someone’s misfortune was immoral, Rafael didn’t care.

He was in a terrible situation himself, how could he have the heart to care about others? Old Tondolo begged him to help young Tondolo before his death, and he agreed. But before young Tondolo actually showed up, he hadn’t planned to do anything. However, now that the guy had come to him, he couldn’t refuse.

Rafael thought so, slowly relaxing his body. His fingers rubbed the cold golden carvings on the armrest of the chair, and pulled out the most sincere and sweet smile on his face: “I can help you, but what can you offer in exchange?”

——Helping is one thing, and compensation is another.

Old Tondolo had been operating in Florence for so many years, he must have had many valuable things hidden away. No matter what it was, at least Rafael was sure that as a pope who was outwardly glorious but actually penniless, he would accept anything.

Young Tondolo opened his mouth blankly: “Ah… exchange… I don’t know…”

He thought nervously and hesitantly: “Do you… do you need money? There are still 80,000 gold florins in the Tondolo Palace…”

Rafael raised an eyebrow.

Seeing his expression, Tondolo quickly changed his tune: “No, no, no, I mean, you certainly don’t need such a small amount of money, besides that, besides that…”

He racked his brains to think about it.

Rafael, who had originally planned to nod in agreement, also remained calm and silently watched him think.

“I still have a few estates, all in the vicinity of Florence…”

He tentatively glanced at the young pope, and was immediately scared by the ambiguous smile on the pope’s lips, and muttered, “Let me think about it again, let me think…”

He was so anxious that cold sweats broke out, and he had the idea of ​​backing out. But no matter how stupid he was, he knew that he had already come this far, he absolutely couldn’t back down, unless Sistine I himself refused.

“Well… I also have two vineyards and a port on the border of the Papal States…”

Port.

Catching this keyword, Rafael changed his polite smile and replaced it with a friendly apology: “Your father asked me to look after you on his deathbed, but as you know, the Papal Palace is not in a good situation, and I’ve never been able to spare the time to help you. But since you’ve come to me personally, I would never refuse you – come to think of it, aren’t you quite close with Redrick? Why don’t you go to Portia? Perhaps that would be quicker.”

As he spoke, he winked playfully at young Tondolo, and his smile took on a naive, boyish quality, as if he were truly expressing doubt to a close friend.

But Sir Goose, who had always been silly, suddenly became a little smart. Although he didn’t understand the true meaning of the Pope’s question, an instinctive warning reminded him to tell the truth, so Tondolo answered honestly: “I… I thought about it… Portia is indeed very powerful…”

This was an indisputable fact. The Portia crest was sometimes more effective in Florence than the Papal Palace.

When he said this, Rafael continued smiling, and the smile was so sweet that it was almost eerie.

“But my younger brother…” When mentioning his younger brother, Tondolo couldn’t help but show a look of disgust, as if he had swallowed a fly. “His mother has a bit of a relationship with Portia…”

He spoke very euphemistically, but Rafael immediately understood his meaning. After a brief moment of confusion, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Tondolo’s thinking was very straightforward. He believed that Portia would help his illegitimate half-brother, so he tried his best to choose someone who had no relationship with the Portia family or who was on the opposite side. If that didn’t work, he would give Portia some good things to make them remain neutral. After thinking about it, he realized that the monarch of Florence was his best target.

Indeed, in the eyes of outsiders, Sistine I was just a puppet controlled by Julius. And a puppet, either follows its master wholeheartedly or becomes an enemy. If he goes to please the Pope, at worst he’ll be rejected, or the money will end up in Portia’s hands – which makes no difference to him. But after taking the money, at least Portia wouldn’t favor his brother, and the best outcome, of course, would be for the Pope to help him regain his title.

Sometimes, not being able to give money is the worst thing. As long as Sistine I accepts the money, there’s still room for maneuver.

Rafael was surprised to find that despite Tondolo’s apparent foolishness, he was actually quite clever at this critical moment.

The Pope was pushed out to fight Portia, and he hid behind the Pope’s shield, so he wouldn’t suffer any loss.

For the sake of those abundant gold coins, estates, and a port, Rafael didn’t mind being used for once.

He nodded happily: “I’ve received your sincerity. I’ll help you solve this problem.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned his head away, and Tondolo immediately retreated discreetly, relieved to have finally put this matter to rest.

A countship title without real power was actually quite easy to solve. If it weren’t for the fact that Cardinal Tondolo had died so suddenly without making any arrangements, and there was no powerful figure in the Tondolo family, young Tondolo wouldn’t need to come begging him so humbly.

Rafael didn’t go to Julius to solve this problem. Putting all your eggs in one basket isn’t a good thing. Once Julius refused him in the future, he would inevitably fall back into his previous predicament.

He surveyed the room and nodded to Besançon when he looked over. Then he calmly looked away, as if they had just happened to meet each other’s eyes.

After a few seconds, Besancon walked up to him and bowed deeply: “Your Holiness.”

“Ah, Lord Besançon.” Rafael feigned surprise and nodded to him, exchanging a few words of concern. In a seemingly aimless conversation, he casually mentioned Tondolo: “… Poor Sir Tondolo, he’s been pushed to the limit by his brother, and he even lost his composure in front of me just now.”

Everyone in the room saw that Tondolo had been talking to the Pope for a long time.

Besançon asked ingratiatingly, “What happened to Sir Tondolo?”

Rafael glanced at him and exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t know this. It’s all because of Portia…”

The Pope shook his head and looked at the already disappearing figure in the crowd with pity: “His brother has the blood of the Portia family, and he’s trying to seize his legitimate inheritance. It’s terrible.”

Besançon noticed that the Pope’s face looked a little ugly when he said this, as if he had thought of his own similar predicament.

This was an opportunity!

Besançon was overjoyed. If he could pull the Pope to the side of the lords, what excuse would Portia have to oppose them? And controlling a Pope… what a dream come true! It seemed that Sistine I was already dissatisfied with the Portias, and with a little push, he could be made closer to himself…

Besançon thought of Russo’s old, pug-like face, and his greedy heart moved slightly. If he could use the power of the Pope, perhaps the Besançon family could also become like Russo’s…

“That’s a pity,” Besançon said quickly, “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

“Oh? What do I have to worry about? Did you make a slip of the tongue?” The handsome Pope looked at him with a half-smile, his eyes filled with a sharp sense of oppression.

But the more he acted as if nothing had happened, the more Besançon became convinced that he had long been dissatisfied with Portia.

“Yes, yes, of course there’s nothing in the world worth worrying about for you, Your Holiness. What I mean is Tondolo. I think the Besançon family can help Sir Tondolo solve this problem. Even if it’s Portia, the loyal and kind Besançon is willing to confront her.”

Besancon lowered his voice: “The Besancon family will show you our sincerity.”

Rafael didn’t know if he believed it. His pale purple eyes looked at Besançon for a long time before curving into a smile, “Then let me see what the Besancóns are capable of.”

He hadn’t given anything in return, and his words were vague and ambiguous. Yet Besançon’s expression was as if he had picked up a huge windfall. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes lit up, and he couldn’t wait to go out and show his abilities.

From beginning to end, Rafael had given no clear instructions, and even this favor was offered by Besancon himself.

Being taken advantage of, offering to help, doing the deed himself, and yet thinking he had gained the upper hand – where could you find such a good-natured person? Rafael looked at Besançon with almost pity. It was a pity that this trick could only be used once, otherwise, he really wanted to keep this sucker as a treasure.

Julius, who had been repeatedly used as an imaginary enemy, stood in the crowd and suddenly felt a chill. He looked around suspiciously, but found nothing unusual. He wondered secretly, was it just him being too paranoid?

Translator’s Note

Hello! I’ll be splitting Chapter 21 since its almost thrice as long as a regular chapter. You’ll find even after dividing it into two parts, this chapter is still the longest so far. Please give a like or comment if you enjoy the story, it gives me motivation to keep going!

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