Chapter 25 Misty Rose (Twenty-Five)

◎What did he do to the Pope? ◎

This is definitely a mistake.

He must have been bewitched by the devil.

Raphael thought with a bit of malice and gave a decent smile to Duke François who was waiting at the door of the mansion.

"Your Majesty, my mansion is glorious today because of your arrival." The Duke of Calais, who adorned himself with gems and a cloak studded with pearls, led a large group of servants to welcome the sudden visit of the monarch of Florence.

In the end, François himself was also wondering in his heart. No matter how confident he was, he didn't think that he and Sistine I were close enough to visit each other casually. But... after all, he was just a young man who had not experienced much of the world. No matter how heavy the crown on his head was, it couldn't change the calmness in his bones that lacked time to polish. Maybe he just thought about it...

François thought casually that this was a good opportunity to show off Calais' wealth. He was always happy to show off his power to others.

When Raphael saw François, who was really shining under the gas lamp, he began to regret having rashly agreed to Ferrante's request last night. The culprit who caused him to now have to face this rooster was diligently mopping the floor in the Papal Palace - His Majesty had personally instructed him not to accept help from anyone or any tools and to mop the floor of the Pope's suite with his own hands.

Unlike the tit-for-tat confrontation that Ferrante had imagined, Raphael had no intention of bringing the matter to light.

What is he going to say?

Ah, your Excellency the Duke of Calais, I heard that you have bought a lot of beautiful boys and girls in your mansion. I hope you can send them all away?

Damn it, even if Raphael was insane, he would never say such a thing.

Florence needed to maintain peace with Calais, so Sistine I also needed to maintain good relations with the Duke of Calais - even if it was just a superficial friendship, Sistine I would not conflict with the Duke of Calais for some "humble and insignificant" poor people, even if it sounded like just a trivial request.

This was an interference in François's private hobbies. Even friends should not be so rude, let alone they were just superficial friends.

Moreover, he had to maintain François's dignity and not let him lose face in Florence.

Thinking of this, Raphael felt as if he had swallowed a dead rat.

So there was only one way to go, and Raphael had to decide on the only feasible method, which was to create a misunderstanding that was neither too big nor too small. Even for the sake of the feelings of his "allies", François had no choice but to drive these people away.

As for what strange label Sistine I will probably be given…

Raphael could already fully imagine the contemptuous and ambiguous teasing that was going on in private.

It doesn’t matter, the young Pope returned to his indifferent expression. As long as he still wore the crown of Saint Leah, they had to be respectful to him. As for what they said in private, what did it have to do with him? Would he mind such trivial gossip?

only……

Raphael sighed silently. Although he agreed to Ferrante, he had to admit that he had actually taken advantage of a loophole and deliberately misunderstood Ferrante's meaning.

François walked beside the Pope, observing the young pope who was inspired by a whim out of the corner of his eye without any expression. Unlike the gorgeous attire he had worn at the grand banquet before, the Florentine monarch was dressed very simply today, in a snow-white plain robe with a light golden pattern on the edge that was barely noticeable unless one looked closely, and a dark red velvet cloak draped over his shoulders. He was so low-key that it would make people laugh at his poverty.

François looked down on such a "plain" Pope from the bottom of his heart. He was not even dressed better than his lovers. The Duke of Calais silently laughed at the young man beside him, but his face was still full of joy.

"Ah, what a coincidence that your loyal Monsignor Cardinal Stone is also here. We were talking about the spices produced in Calais. I heard that you also like bitter orange?" François casually found a topic.

They were walking through the spacious garden in the atrium. There was no licentious scene as described by Ferrante. The water drops from the fountain splashed transparent pearl-like fragments. Brand new dining tables were laid on the lawn. The snow-white tablecloths hung to the ground. The flower baskets on the tables were bright and eye-catching like waves. A few good-looking boys and girls were strolling around. When they saw the crowd from a distance, they did not rush to come up, but politely saluted and greeted them from a certain distance.

"They are..." Raphael asked casually as if unintentionally.

François glanced over there, his expression calm: "Oh, those are my servants. I like pretty faces, and I appreciate and pursue beauty - you should understand that, too?"

Raphael looked over there again and nodded: "Yes, I understand."

They came to the reception room and met Cardinal Stone who came out to greet them. Cardinal Stone was a skinny middle-aged man with an ordinary appearance. The only thing worth mentioning was his super memory. He could recite Virgil's Travels and Syracuse's Epic, which had hundreds of thousands of words, and could even recite a specific line on a certain page, not to mention various religious texts and unconventional records. This was a great skill in the Vatican, but Raphael did not have a deep impression of Cardinal Stone. Perhaps it was because in his previous life, the cardinal was unlucky enough to stand on the wrong team and was kicked out of Florence by Julius without any hesitation, and died in a small church in the countryside.

François's reception room, like his own style, uses a lot of luxurious Calais-style decorations. In the corner stands a plaster goddess holding a bottle, from which flows a carefully decorated bouquet of flowers. The standing bouquets of eucalyptus leaves, lily of the valley, forget-me-nots, green roses, geraniums, etc., which are as tall as a person, fill the room with a faint fragrance. Tapestries embroidered with the Calais royal emblem can be seen everywhere here, and of course there are portraits of François himself.

Oval-framed and square-framed portraits of various costumes and occasions were hung around the reception room, dedicated to telling people how heroic the owner here was.

The three of them chatted idly - of course it was gossip, what else could they say? Cardinal Stone was obviously quite confused about the Pope's sudden visit. He glanced at François from time to time, trying to read some information from his host's face, but unfortunately, he saw nothing.

Could it be that his intention of coming here was discovered?

Cardinal Stone had to think of this worst guess, and suddenly became a little restless. It shouldn't be that bad... He tried to comfort himself, he had only come twice... Damn it, he shouldn't have come if he had known, but...

Cardinal Stone began to recall why he came here, secretly regretting that he could not resist his curiosity. Maybe there was something more than curiosity, but that was not the point.

He thought again of the sweet aroma and young bodies in that garden, the youthful and energetic laughter, which were like the sun that never sets. How wonderful it would be to be among them, to have the illusion that his lost youth had returned. Which man could resist such temptation?

Even if he is a saint...

Even if he is a saint...

Stone froze as if he had been electrocuted, and he found that Sistine I seemed to be looking at him.

But this look may just be a casual glance. François was fed up with boring small talk and proposed to hold a small party in the hall. Raphael readily agreed and sympathetically suggested that they should invite a few more people so that the party would be lively enough and interesting.

It was normal for a banquet to last a whole day, with guests constantly leaving and arriving. Messengers took François' invitation and rushed to the mansions of various nobles. After the first wave of guests arrived, the atmosphere quickly became lively. When François drunkenly escaped from the increasing number of guests, he dug out the purpose of holding this banquet from his chaotic mind.

Oh, by the way... Sistine I...

He grabbed an attendant and asked, "Where's the Pope?"

The attendant was stunned for a moment, thinking hard: "Half an hour ago, he said it was too hot in the hall, so he went out for a walk."

Taking a walk... François thought hard for a while, and when he was sure that he had hidden everything that should be hidden, he relaxed, sneered, and waved his hand to let the servant leave.

He is just a young man. It seems that the previous vigilance was unnecessary.

Even someone as arrogant as François knew what he could and could not do. Buying and selling human beings in Florence to build his own Garden of Eden was not a big problem, but secretly colluding with the nobles of Florence by using this Eden on earth...that could be a big or small problem.

It's okay for him to play by himself, but if he is labeled as "the servant of the God of Temptation", even he will have to stay away from it. He is here to make friends, not to make enemies.

It would be best not to let the Pope see those things, just in case.

However, no matter how he thought, the Pope who wanted the secret to be kept secret had exactly the opposite idea.

Raphael untied the scarlet cloak that symbolized his identity, threw it behind a bush, and walked back along the winding path in the garden.

Ferrante told him that the boys and girls lived in the rooms behind the garden, some distance away from the main house. Raphael drank a few glasses of wine, deliberately pretended to be drunk, and lazily walked into the forbidden area.

There were two guards on the way. They looked at Raphael, hesitated for a moment, and did not stop him. Instead, they urged him, "Go back quickly."

They thought Raphael, who was wearing a white robe, was one of the boys bought into the mansion. This guess was extremely reasonable considering his age and appearance.

The only doubt is...I seem to have never seen this overly beautiful person before? Is it newly bought?

Raphael walked in silently.

At midnight, the banquet with elegant ladies drinking and toasting is in a mess. The drunken nobles stacked the crystal glasses into a tall tower and poured wine from top to bottom. From the corners where the curtains were dropped, ambiguous whispers and sounds were heard. The banquet was a place to find happiness. Everyone knew what was happening in these corners. It was an unspoken secret in the aristocratic circle that love and marriage were always two separate things.

Several nobles who were closest to François had already gone to look for Eden on their own, and François acquiesced to this behavior. Anyway, as long as they didn't make a scene in the hall and weren't seen by Sistine I -

Wait a minute, Sistine I said he was going for a walk, how long had he been gone?

The hazy drunkenness was suddenly dispelled, Francois sat up straight, pushed away the noble lady who was leaning on him, and

The man scanned the hall with his hawk-like sharp eyes, but did not spot the light golden figure that should have been the most eye-catching in this chaos.

"Where's the Pope?" He grabbed another attendant and asked viciously, "I just sent someone to look for him. Did they find him?"

The attendant stammered and could not answer.

François' heart sank, realizing that something bad had happened, but he hoped it wasn't the worst.

However, what you fear will come to pass. He saw his most trusted personal sergeant hurriedly coming back from outside. His face, which always had a humble smile, was stiff and pale. He rushed to François like a corpse.

"Your Highness," the attendant who accompanied François from prince to duke still insisted on addressing him as he used to, "Sistine I..."

He swallowed and took a deep breath under Francois' increasingly urgent stare, "Sir Carlos, Sir, mistook the drunken Pope for your lover... He, he..."

All the alcohol in François's body evaporated from his pores.

He stood up slowly, his face terribly gloomy, and from his throat came a low mixed sound of a beast meeting an enemy: "That stupid bastard, what did he do?"

Even the Duke of Calais was a little overwhelmed by this "surprise".

If it was as he guessed...oh my god.

"No, it hasn't reached the worst point, but His Holiness the Pope was furious. He wanted to come to the hall to question you, but I managed to calm him down. Please..." the sergeant said quickly.

"Very good." Francois felt his suffocated heart barely start beating again. He absentmindedly praised the sergeant and strode out of the banquet hall.

In every circle, there is a group of people who are born rich, idle, have no skills, and are good at eating, drinking and having fun. The only expectation of their family is that they don't cause trouble. Sir Carlos is such a character in the Florence circle.

He spent the first half of his life doing nothing but eating, drinking and having fun. He never did anything bad that his family could not tolerate, and he had no desire to climb up the social ladder. With his status, it was certainly impossible for him to meet the honorable Pope up close, so... he just stayed contented and did something earth-shaking that he could never have imagined in his entire life.

He, Carlos, tried to force the Pope of Florence to -

Carlos had no idea how all this happened. He just walked here in a comfortable drunken state as usual, ready to choose a lovely lady to spend a beautiful night with him. And by chance, he saw a heart-moving profile leaning against the window... God, he swore, he had never understood what love at first sight was so profound. The other party noticed his gaze, gave him a look and a smile, and then left from the window. Carlos's head, which was filled with wine, suddenly had an idea. He was sure that this was a silent invitation, so, so...

He stood blankly in the mess, his brain losing the ability to function due to fear. The beauty he fell in love with at first sight was sitting in an armchair with her fingers crossed. Her lavender pupils were filled with sharp and furious anger. She looked at him coldly, like a lion staring at a poor shivering hare.

The Pope... How could he be the Pope? !

Carlos felt a severe headache and he didn't dare to think about the chaos. His waist and abdomen, which were kicked, were still throbbing in pain, but he tried to shrink himself and wanted to shrink into the ground to avoid this tragic visual torture.

There were hurried footsteps outside, and all the bystanders attracted by the chaos were driven back into the room by François's butler, so one can imagine who could make such a noise here.

The tightly closed door was opened, and at the same time, the young and cold Pope stood up, his long hair was still a little messy, and there was an angry blush on his pale cheeks. He strode to the door and came face to face with François who had hurried over - and then walked past him without stopping.

The Duke of Calais was almost roaring in anger as he was ignored for the first time, but he didn't dare to. This time he was in the wrong, and no matter how the Pope expressed his dissatisfaction, he had to accept it respectfully.

As Sistine I passed by him, he said coldly: "Your entertainment is very interesting, but I hope everyone here knows how to keep silent. Of course, I don't want to see more corpses and deaths on the streets of Florence that will give me a headache, Your Excellency the Duke."

Francois forced out an ugly smile: "Please rest assured, everything here will be a secret. I will let them know what to say and what not to say."

The Pope seemed to sneer, and left with a gust of cold wind, leaving Carlos facing the horrified gaze of François.

"Send everyone here away," Francois gritted his teeth. Killing them would be a better way, but didn't they say that Florence should not have any public security problems? "Give them enough money, tell them to shut up, and tell them that if there are any rumors outside, they will be killed."

The deacon withdrew as ordered and went to disperse the crowd, while Carlos... the unfortunate knight, only received a meaningful hideous smile and sneer from the Duke.

The crowd gathered like crows and disappeared in a very short time. The confused Jazz was the only one left in the room that was ravaged by the strong wind. Carlos stood blankly in the middle of the room, feeling cold all over. Everything happened too fast and too unexpectedly. He couldn't even believe what he had experienced. He just felt that what happened just now was like a horrible nightmare.

The author has something to say:

I just finished class, so I quickly posted this chapter...