The Reversed Hierophant

Watching as Anastasia was escorted onto the carriage bound for Florence by several black-robed monks, Rafael felt her impassioned exclamation still echoing in his ears: ‘…God has given everyone the same organs and composition, what a wonderful creation! We are all born equal!’

Born equal.

Rafael smiled silently.

What a naive vision.

But people are born unequal. Some are mired in the slums, sacrificing half of their lives for a crust of bread, while others can appreciate the beauty of raindrops on flower petals on rainy days and savor new tea sent from across the sea by the fireplace.

When stripped of name, wealth, appearance, and status, when passing through the gates of the underworld and standing before God to be judged, everyone is equally noble. Yet, the human world is full of scales for measuring the high and low.

Ferrante stood behind him, gazing out the window at the receding crowd in the courtyard: “She’s quite a unique woman.”

Rafael said softly, “Yes, it’s a tragedy that she lives in this era, but this era should be ecstatic to have her.”

Ferrante asked in surprise, “You think so highly of her?”

In Ferrante’s eyes, this madwoman was simply unreasonable, spouting nonsense. If not for the Pope being here, he would have definitely sent her to a convent to be properly educated.

“An extremely devout fanatic, a blasphemer who despises religion to the extreme,” Rafael said thoughtfully, “but she only believes in her own God.”

It was very interesting. Anastasia’s soul was something he had never seen before, incredibly free and independent. Even he himself, along with Julius, Sancha, and others who had received the highest level of education in this era, could not maintain such absolute independence. But Anastasia had done it. All her thoughts were formed after witnessing reality and making her own judgments. Even if there were chaotic and contradictory parts, it was simply because her knowledge level was insufficient to explain those phenomena, so she had to turn to theology.

Beneath the fanatical and chaotic appearance was the most independent and calm soul. Such a contrast made Rafael uncontrollably curious.

However, he still curbed his inappropriate curiosity.

Let Julius worry about these matters. He still had a lot to do, such as enjoying tonight’s dinner.

After a day of rest, on the afternoon of the third day, the Pope, along with his monks and knights, boarded the train bound for Rome. This special train was built specifically for this journey. Cities along the route had already been notified and had signed transit permits, so it would run all the way to the Roman capital, Perigo, and would not stop in between unless it needed to replenish supplies.

Ferrante mysteriously disappeared before the train started, taking most of the black-robed monks with him. Rafael didn’t ask where they were going, but he had a rough guess.

The convenience of the journey also meant being a fixed target. Now, half of Syracuse knew the route the Pope would be taking, and this route was unchangeable. If one wanted to ambush the Pope here, it was an excellent opportunity.

Pope Vitalian III was assassinated while on tour, and Rafael…

The porcelain cup clinked slightly against the edge as he put it down, Rafael turned his head, and his pupils reflected the passing scenery outside the window. The train was not moving very fast, allowing people to comfortably lean against the wide cushions and admire the plains, flocks of sheep, and windmills.

This carriage was decorated with burgundy velvet and embellished with deep and gorgeous gold stripes. The floor was covered with a soft, long-haired carpet, and equipped with various furnishings such as tables, chairs, and other utensils. Rafael grew tired of the unchanging scenery of the plains and turned his head to focus on the letter in his hand. The messengers from Florence needed to accurately calculate His Holiness’s itinerary so that they could deliver the letter to the train on the way with the least amount of time.

This letter in his hand was Julius’s daily report, with a short note attached at the end, asking him to pass it on to Redrick.

Redrick…

Rafael hesitated for a moment and began to recall that after Redrick’s application was approved, he was assigned to Leshert’s command. As the Duke of Lusanne, he certainly couldn’t become a member of the Knights Templar, and he would definitely form his own army in the future. This was just to accumulate experience for him.

On this trip, Redrick’s name was also on the list of attendees, listed under the Papal guard, but Rafael had never actually seen him among the guards. If not for this sudden note, he would have almost forgotten that there was such a person in his team.

Rafael put down the letter and pulled the bell rope. After a while, the door of the carriage opened. Rafael didn’t turn around and handed the note over: “Please pass this on to Lord Redrick Portia.”

There was a pause, and the letter was then taken.

Just as the letter was about to leave his hand, Rafael suddenly realized something was wrong. He quickly pinched a corner of the paper and looked up sharply. Standing in front of him was not the attendant he expected, but a timid little girl.

“…Lucrezia?”

Rafael called out the little girl’s name in surprise.

The little girl was wearing a Calais-style pearl headdress, her long brown hair was combed behind her head, and her apple-like face had a healthy rosy glow. Her round brown eyes were like those of a newborn fawn. She looked at Rafael nervously, her left hand almost nervously wrinkling the book in her hand, and she said softly, “I… I was at the door, the attendant went to make you tea, I…”

The more she explained, the more incoherent she became, and in the end, her voice was filled with tears.

Rafael gently stroked the little girl’s head: “It’s alright, do you want to help me?”

Lucrezia nodded and said softly, “I know Lord Portia.”

This answer was unexpected. Rafael paused: “Are you familiar with him?”

Lucrezia replied timidly but with clear logic: “He’s been the captain of my and Ingrid’s guard all the way here. He’s a good person, although he seems a bit fierce.”

Rafael understood. Sure enough, Redrick couldn’t stand being around him, so he went to protect the two sisters instead. That was quite his style.

“Alright, since he’s the captain of your guard, then this glorious task is entrusted to you, my lovely lady.”

Entrusted with an important task by the handsome and gentle Pope, a joyful look appeared on the little girl’s face. She carefully took the letter and put it into the leather pouch at her waist, and gave the smiling Pope a smile as well.

“Then let’s get back to the question at the beginning. What did you come to me for?” Rafael asked. Lucrezia was a very cautious and shy girl, and she wouldn’t come to see him for no reason. “Have you finished reading your book? Or did you encounter any difficulties?”

Rafael guessed casually.

Lucrezia loved reading. Although she was only six years old, she had already mastered reading and writing skills and could recognize most non-obscure characters. She was now learning Gaelic, and Rafael intentionally cultivated these interests and hobbies of hers, so he had opened up a part of his book collection to her. The little girl did not disappoint his expectations and was so studious that she would read by candlelight.

“I encountered a problem,” the little girl said softly, spreading the book in her hand to a certain page and holding it up for the young Pope to see. Because of their height difference, she even considerately stood on tiptoe.

Rafael quickly scanned the text on the book. This fairytale book was one he had specifically chosen for Lucrezia as an introduction to the Gaelic language. Although it was a fairy tale, to be honest, it wasn’t very interesting.

Paper and ink were very expensive things, and books could be inherited as property by future generations. Under such circumstances, all editors and authors would strive to create works with more “ideological,” “artistic,” and “philosophical” qualities. There were very few works aimed at children, and children’s education did not have a systematic development. Most of the aristocratic enlightenment education still relied on rigid indoctrination and recitation. This fairytale book was only found after Rafael searched for it in the library of the Papal Palace.

It was an uncommonly large book, at least a quarto size and about half a foot thick. The cover was made of gray vellum, with copper edges, and from Lucrezia’s angle, she could see a gilded thorned-wing totem at the top of the cover, proving it was a private collection of the Papal Palace.

Rafael easily took the book, which was too heavy for a child, and placed it on the table in front of him. He pointed to the space beside him, and the clever little girl immediately understood, moving a stool from the side and, with Rafael’s help, climbed onto the stool and looked at the open page with the Pope, head to head.

“In fact, fairy tales can often tell us more than the treasured historical books in the library.”

The young Pope began his impromptu lesson with this statement.

For example, a famous ballad from a certain island nation tells the story of a collapsed tower bridge, which contains many dark historical facts worth pondering. There are also poetic records in the alchemical notes from the 9^th century, and it was entirely feasible to conduct experiments based on these records. The Book of the Dead found in the desert near the Dead Sea contains several wild and fantastical legends, yet historians have proven that some of these plots correspond to historical records…

Rafael smiled and caressed the soft vellum with his pale fingers: “Humans will tamper with history, but rarely with fairy tales, folk songs, and legends. And this book…”

He turned the book over and pointed to the gilded thorned-wing totem on the cover and its pitted marks: “It was once attempted to be destroyed, but it was eventually preserved by the Papal Palace. As a fairy tale, don’t you think it has too many experiences?”

Rafael opened the book back to the previous title page: ‘The Story of the Pirate Orne.’

The Papal States has a long coastline to the southeast, bordering the Black Sea, and across the Black Sea is Assyria. Therefore, both countries suffered greatly from pirate raids. However, Assyria has been in chaos in recent years, providing many opportunities to fish in troubled waters. Pirates flocked to Assyria like sharks smelling blood, which benefited the Papal States by accident. Therefore, in the culture of the southeastern part of the Papal States, there are many stories related to pirates.

The fairy tale was simple, a typical story of punishing evil and rewarding good, with the villain repenting.

The pirate leader Orne, who committed all kinds of evil, had a kind-hearted young son. The pirate cherished this young son very much and protected him on an island. He built a high fortress for him, plundered all kinds of treasures for his enjoyment, and cut off the tongues of the captured people as servants to serve him. When the naive and innocent child turned eighteen, his father kidnapped a princess for him as his wife – of course, she had her tongue cut out, and he lied to him saying that she was a noble girl rescued from a wrecked ship.

His son happily married the beautiful princess, but after the wedding, the princess was melancholic. To make his wife happy, the husband tried everything he could. Finally, with the help of seabirds, mermaids, and dolphins, he learned about his wife’s past and discovered that his father was actually a wicked pirate.

Exposed, the pirate, in order to no longer disappoint his son, decided to turn over a new leaf. He surrendered all of his looted treasure, released the poor servants, and sailed his ship into a storm one night, never to return.

His son was heartbroken by his father’s departure, but with the princess’s comfort, he eventually recovered and the couple lived happily ever after. He also inherited a title from the princess’s father, becoming a true nobleman.

The plot of the story is full of ups and downs, but upon closer examination, it’s actually quite simple. After answering some grammatical questions from Lucrezia, Rafael looked at the little girl’s bright eyes and said, “This story was actually based on a true story.”

Lucrezia widened her eyes in surprise, “Really? Who was it?”

Rafael thought silently for a moment, then shook his head, “I forgot the name. I saw it a long time ago, but that story was much more bloody and real than this fairy tale.”

“A pirate had a clever and ambitious son. They frantically plundered merchant ships, killed the people on board, and left the wealthy nobles behind, forcing their families to empty their pockets to ransom them. In just a few decades, they became a huge shadow lurking on the sea. One day, his son said, ‘We need to go to land, that’s the foundation for our family to continue.’ So they tried every means to attack a large port and kidnapped the duke’s daughter who happened to be passing through – of course, this was a carefully planned event.”

“The pirate’s son married the duke’s daughter, thereby establishing a relationship with the duke. They paid half of all the wealth they had plundered over the years – it was no small sum, enough to drive the kings of small countries crazy – and reached a cooperation agreement with the duke. Thus, the duke’s son-in-law was able to step onto the port openly and became a member of the aristocratic society. His father-in-law paved the way for him in high society, while his father continued to plunder money and wealth for him on the sea…”

As he spoke, Lucrezia held her breath. She was uncontrollably drawn into that bloody storm. Those crazy schemes and cunning maneuvers were vividly detached from the book, as if they were being played out right in front of her. She fascinatedly listened to these past events, feeling as if her whole blood was boiling. An inexplicable emotion seized her heart.

“They successfully achieved their former plan, from penniless commoners to blood-stained pirates, and then to well-dressed nobles. The duke’s son-in-law successfully inherited the title of duke as he wished. One month after he buried his father-in-law, his father, who had roamed the seas for many years, also died at sea – what a sad and perfect coincidence. No one could blame his origin anymore, because his hands had never been directly stained with blood. He had always been the innocent prince protected by his father in a high tower.”

“Is… is this true? Is there really such a story behind the fairy tale?” Lucrezia asked anxiously.

Rafael replied lightly, “Oh, of course, but for us its not called a story but history.”

“History…” Lucrezia repeated the word, thoughtfully, “That’s amazing, who recorded these things?”

Rafael closed the book: “He didn’t leave a name, but I think it doesn’t matter to him, because he has left us enough, and these things will be passed down from generation to generation, such as from me to you, and from you to someone else. Alright, Lucrezia, today’s story time is over. Go back to your carriage and let Ingrid make you a cup of hot tea. Go to bed early.”

The girl slid down from the stool reluctantly, hugged the book, glanced at Rafael, and said softly, “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

The little girl trotted away. Rafael looked out of the window again. He had modified and embellished a few details of this story. He always had a good memory, and of course, he couldn’t forget the name of the protagonist of that story.

It was the bloody history of the Russo family’s rise to power. However, perhaps Lucrezia should not hear those names that would sadden and frighten her anymore. Maybe he could tell her the truth of this story later, maybe not… Who knows.

Rafael pushed away the now cold tea and watched the sun outside the window slowly sink below the horizon.

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