Chapter 69: Golden Ouroboros (Seventeen)

◎The Mystery of Decay◎

The lights in the Pope's bedroom were turned off very early today. Ferrante personally lowered the blackout curtains beside the four-poster bed for the Holy Father and turned the lights in the room to the dimmest. The hissing sound of the gas in the pipes soon became inaudible, and an appropriate amount of sleeping-aiding spices was placed in the incense burner. The dense aroma slowly rose, forming a milky white mist stream around the golden spherical burner.

"Good night, Holy Father."

The black-haired wolfhound restrained his cold and gloomy expression in front of outsiders, knelt on one knee beside the bed, and said good night to Raphael earnestly.

Raphael, who was lost in his own thoughts, suddenly woke up, as if he had just realized that there was someone beside him. He raised his right hand that was placed on the quilt, and Ferrante lowered his head to him knowingly, and obediently placed his head in the most suitable angle for caressing.

Raphael gently touched Ferrante's forehead: "May God bless you to have a good dream tonight, my child."

The cold and gloomy captain of the guard curled up the corners of his mouth, and his blue eyes seemed relaxed and peaceful because of the overly quiet and soothing atmosphere.

He stood up, carefully adjusted the edges of the curtains to ensure that no extra light would come in, picked up the handheld glass gas lamp on the table and left the bedroom.

Of course, he couldn't really go to sleep like that. For Ferrante, his work for the day had just begun.

Night is always the right time for creatures like them to appear. Whether it is a conspirator seeking to take the lives of others or a wolfhound hunting conspirators, it is more suitable for them to sneak around in the night.

The arbitration bureau established by Raphael

Ferrante has already developed a certain scale in his hands. The huge intelligence network spread from Florence to various countries through caravans and fleets. The organization with faith as its chain has a large number of intelligence agents in a very short time. Some of them may not even know what they are doing or who they are serving, but in the church, they will always tell the monks in the confessional everything they know.

Even nobles would confide their secrets to monks, hoping to gain forgiveness from the Lord after committing evil deeds.

The intelligence officers of the Arbitration Bureau gathered together the information submitted by the monks, and after careful analysis and bold guesses, they discovered many unknown secrets.

Perhaps even Julius did not expect that the power in Raphael's hands had reached this point.

Today is the seven-day intelligence delivery time. Calais and Roman are still short of manpower, and most of the intelligence sent back is useless. Ferrante must first ensure that everyone and everything in Florence and the Papal States is under the sight of the Arbitration Bureau.

According to the schedule, Florence's intelligence officer will come today and may be able to bring him something new.

Not long after Ferrante left, Raphael, who had been unable to sleep, opened his eyes. He did not move or speak, lying quietly on the bed like a petrified doll. He could no longer hear the violent storm outside clearly, but he knew that the rainstorm that seemed to be submerging the earth was still continuing. He wondered how many people would cry tomorrow for their lost homes.

As he thought of this, his right leg began to twitch and ache involuntarily again.

Rainy days, heavy rain, Raphael hates rain, this is the mark left to him by his miserable childhood. Rainy days are often days of hunger, and no one will go out on rainy days, so no matter how good his skills are, he can't open his shop on rainy days.

When old Aaron was still alive, he taught his stealing skills to little Raphael. Raphael was born smart and had particularly dexterous hands. He could use a processed hair to quietly cut the string on a purse, or use his extremely cute face to deceive the ladies' sympathy and steal their necklaces and brooches.

"If you were given the chance, you could steal the Holy Lord's underwear!" Old Aaron said more than once that he felt he had picked up a treasure.

But no matter how skilled a thief is, it is impossible to create something out of nothing.

When it rained, the rich would stay at home, enjoying steaming hot tea and cozy fireplaces. No one would be foolish enough to come to the downtown area to do charity. It rained heavily for three days without stopping. Raphael was hungry and cold, and no one here would be kind enough to help him. Leah, who used to do this, had been sold, and he didn't know where she had gone.

Maybe he's dead.

He was dying anyway.

Raphael huddled under the dilapidated wooden shed, the rain dripping on him, the shelter above his head was just better than nothing.

People will take risks when they are extremely desperate.

Raphael vaguely sensed that his life might be about to end here, but his extreme unwillingness made him extremely angry. He didn't understand why he lived in confusion and died in obscurity. This extreme anger and despair made him go against old Aaron's last warning before his death. He sneaked out of the lower city and planned to steal in the place where the nobles lived.

Years of malnutrition made him extremely thin, and he could easily crawl through the sewage pipe into the fortified mansion. A dance party was being held in the mansion, but Raphael didn't care about it. He took advantage of the heavy rain to sneak into the kitchen. The kitchen was in a mess, everyone was working frantically, and no one noticed this little gray mouse-like child.

Raphael was not greedy. He grabbed a few pieces of bread in the corner. Honey was added to the soft white bread. The sweet and mellow smell instantly captured his whole mind. Raphael hid under the table and stuffed the bread into his throat in big mouthfuls.

"...I heard that His Majesty doesn't like wine that's too hot. Let's put it aside for a while before serving it... Add a little nutmeg?"

"Oh my God, why hasn't the barbecue been served yet? The adults have already started eating the third course... and the honey bread - ah! Where did this child come from?!"

The kitchen was instantly thrown into chaos. This dirty child immediately caught everyone's attention. The cooks screamed loudly and reached out to grab him with ferocious faces. Raphael bared his teeth at them like a frightened stray cat, then rushed out with a few loaves of bread in his arms.

His escape naturally failed.

When the banquet was held to welcome the Pope, a little beggar from the lower town was allowed to sneak into the kitchen, which was obviously a slap in the face of the owner of the manor.

"Master, please be merciful and leave only one leg." The neatly dressed butler instructed the groom lightly. The heavy rain made Raphael unable to see the other person's expression. Then he felt a heart-wrenching pain in his right leg.

The broken right leg drooped down, and the bones under the skin of the calf were twisted and bent abruptly. Raphael screamed and cried miserably, and the white bone stumps were exposed to the air. Blood and rain mixed to flow on the ground to form a pink river, winding behind him.

This year, he was eleven years old.

Raphael, who had lost his ability to move, lay in a broken wooden shed for three days. A person in good health could not even survive in the slums, let alone a disabled person.

After he was barely able to move, he wiped his face with the rain water dripping from the eaves, combed his messy short hair back, washed his hands, then dragged his injured leg and knocked on the door of a glass workshop. He showed his unobstructed facial features to the impatient boss and gave an awkward and timid smile.

It was not until then that some people realized that the dirty little boy adopted by old Aaron actually had such a handsome face, but no one had realized it before!

Raphael sold himself to this glass workshop.

The boss was overjoyed and didn't even care that Raphael was seriously injured. He was willing to spend money on his treatment first - of course, there was no hope for treatment in the slums, and it could only be said that Raphael's life was saved.

In this plot that is comparable to a tragic novel, the only lucky thing seems to be that before everything reached the worst point, Raphael, who had gained some weight and had fuller cheeks, was found by his father, the Pope.

But no matter how long these things have happened, Raphael still hates rainy days from the bottom of his heart. They symbolize pain, incompleteness, and torture. They make him realize more clearly than ever how big the gap between people can be. The cramped, wet and cold weather destroyed his childhood and adolescence.

Raphael forced himself out of the memories of the past. His aching knees were still clamoring for his existence. Raphael lay there for another ten minutes. He heard the ticking of the mechanical floor clock outside and felt that he was no longer sleepy but becoming more and more awake. The experience in the theater hit him again, and Raphael sat up suddenly, unable to bear it.

He didn't know what Julius was crazy about. He was sure that Julius had never had any extra feelings for him before. Until the day he died in bed, Julius was so busy every day that he was nowhere to be seen. The entire Florence and the Papal States were held in the hands of Mr. Portia, and the Pope was more like a puppet of Mr. Portia.

At that time, Raphael didn't mind being Julius' puppet.

He just earnestly practiced the doctrine's requirements for the Pope. He was pious, upright, pure, and philanthropic. He tried to protect the weak Papal States from the threat of Calais and Roman and maintain the independence of the Papal States - this was consistent with Julius' goal. Raphael felt that fighting for dominance was a waste of time and meaningless, so no matter how others mocked this "Puppet Majesty" in private, he seemed unaware.

After being together for such a long time, didn't he know whether Julius loved him or not?

So what went wrong this time?

Is it true or false, a disguise or a true expression of feelings?

Raphael's head ached from thinking about it, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong with Julius, so he just pretended that this had never happened.

Anyway, he was pretending to be asleep at the time, no matter whether Julius noticed it or not - even if it was a secret between them, this kiss was destined not to appear in the sun.

Raphael decisively put the matter deep in his heart and ignored it, but then he saw a box in the corner.

It was a gift from Count Dandol in exchange for a chance to return to society, the legacy of old Cardinal Dandol, and it was signed with the name of Saint Vitalian III Delacroix.

Raphael threw back the quilt and got out of bed, put the box on the table and examined the lock. The keyhole was filled with molten lead, and it seemed that old Dondoler did not want it to be opened. Ψ

Raphael took out the dagger from under his pillow - the one that Sanxia gave him at his coronation, and broke the lock with a few strokes, violently opening the box.

If you don't want anyone to open it, you should destroy the box before you die, instead of hanging a lock that has no protective effect and makes it even more obvious.

Raphael saw the inner conflict and struggle of old Dondol from the tangled lock, but he didn't care about the dead man's thoughts. For him, this box was just a thing to kill time before going to bed. As for what secrets were inside... Raphael didn't really care that much.

At this moment, Raphael did not realize how big a shock he would face. The things in the box would almost overturn his past life.

There weren't many things in the small box, just a thin cowhide book the size of a palm, a roll of yellowed parchment tied with a hemp rope, and two opened letters.

Everything showed signs of being eroded by time, and they looked to be at least ten years old. Raphael recognized that the style of the cowhide notebook was popular in Florence ten years ago. Now no one would use pure silver to bind the corners of the notebook, as the nobles thought this design was too bulky.

Raphael picked up the notebook and saw old Don Doller's fluent signature on the title page. It seemed to be his diary.

The young Pope frowned in confusion. He had no intention of prying into the privacy of the deceased, but why was this thing placed in this box?

Raphael shook the notebook, which was very thin. After thinking for two seconds, he opened it without any psychological burden.

Outside the window, thunder roared across the sky, shaking the earth and the sky. A crazy rainstorm came down on people's heads, as if it was going to completely destroy the world.

"I have committed an unforgivable crime. This is perhaps the most serious sin in human history. It is the most sin a human can commit. Even if there is a devil behind him, he cannot do such evil."

"I clearly recognize my sins. For so many years, I have been unable to sleep day and night. I long for confession, but no church can accommodate such filthy words. Holy Lord, I can only confess to you here. Please judge my soul after death."

"Supreme Lord, I confess to you that I betrayed my best friend. I once promised to dedicate my eternal loyalty to him. We have been like brothers for many years. I am willing to sacrifice my life for him, and I believe he is willing to do the same. But I have to admit to you that I betrayed him most thoroughly out of my selfish desires. This is an unforgivable crime, both for my past oaths and for you, because he was your agent in the world, and I betrayed your teachings."

"I murdered Delacroix."

Raphael's pupils suddenly contracted.

The Roman vanguard's ships had crossed most of the Black Sea and could already see the Assyrian coastline. The queen ordered all ships to fly the royal flags high to announce their arrival. The golden eagle flag symbolizing the Assyrian royal family soon fluttered in the sea breeze.

The slaves in the lower cabin rowed the oars quickly under the whip of the sailors. A huge amount of coal was shoveled into the boiler. The bursting heat and manpower pushed the ship rapidly towards the shore.

The queen, wearing riding clothes and holding a whip, stood on the deck, gazing at the clear land border and whispering, "I remember that it was the same when we left Assyria. The ship was getting farther and farther away.

, Assyria gradually disappeared. ”

Ashur's clothing was very similar to the queen's. They both restored the attire of Assyrian aristocratic women. The Assyrians, who grew up in the wilderness and on horseback, did not like cumbersome long skirts and complicated decorations. They loved freedom almost fanatically.

"But we are back," Ashur said.

"Yes, we are finally back." Yamenla's expression was hard to read. "Will Changshengtian forget his daughter who is away from home?"

"No parent will forget his child, no matter how long the child is away, Your Majesty." Ashur replied lightly but firmly.

Amenra did not speak. No expression could be discerned on the queen's stern and beautiful face. She was like a carefully carved stone statue, eternally facing the direction of Assyria.

The boat gently touched the shore, and everyone started to move. The soldiers on the boat had been ready for a long time, and people continued to move from the boat to the shore along the wooden boards. There were also many horses among them. The horses, which were on a boat for the first time, showed varying degrees of anxiety. The neighing of horses and the shouting of people soon turned the temporary dock into a mess.

Amenla didn't care about these things. She had already met the officials who came to greet her.

There were only a few officials who came to greet the queen, and most of them were covered in dust and looked tired and uneasy, like a herd of deer that had been attacked by wild beasts.

"God of Heaven, may the Queen arrive safely."

The ministers in fur robes crossed their arms over their chests and bowed deeply to the queen.

"We have prepared enough sheep to reward your army, and many people want to hold a banquet for you—"

Yamenla frowned calmly: "Let's not talk about this for now, how is the situation in the royal city?"

The officials fell silent instantly.

As everyone looked at each other in bewilderment and the queen's expression became increasingly cold, the last person standing said in an almost inaudible voice, "... Two days before you arrived, the high priest opened the city gates and welcomed the rebels into the royal city of Gonda."

Yamenla's expression became terrifying: "High Priest?"

The power structure of Assyria was very special. It was a country where theocracy was above royal power. In this overly primitive and natural country, the high priest controlled the people's faith. People devoutly and madly believed in Eternal Heaven - the nature and heaven and earth that gave them all things. Although the monarch could command the people, in theory the priests had the power to depose and enthrone the monarch.

However, the Assyrian priests were all devout believers of Eternal Heaven. They refused to touch anything other than serving God, had no desire for power, and would not touch the sensitive nerves of the monarch. This was evident from the fact that Assyria had been in civil strife for so many years, and the high priest had not stood up to call for action.

But at this moment, two days before Amenra was about to arrive in Assyria, the high priest opened the gate of Gonda and welcomed the rebels into the royal city. What did this mean?

The queen's expression was colder than ever.