Chapter 74: Golden Ouroboros (Twenty-two)

◎Daily life after the storm◎

Raphael tilted his head back, watching the trickle of water flowing down from the sculptures on the marble porch, with the water droplets reflecting dazzling colorful light. Looking at it for a long time would give people a strange feeling of dizziness, as if the brain was drunk after drinking, and it was floating up with the soul.

The Papal Palace is huge. As the actual political center of the Papal States, it houses the training base of the Knights Templar, a large secretariat, and a large group of monks and nuns who come here for further study. Of course, the key area of ​​the Papal Palace is naturally the Pope's living place. His Majesty's private area only occupies two-fifths of the entire Papal Palace. The knights guard all the ways leading here, like an indestructible shield, protecting the crown.

On the sixth day of the heavy rain in Florence, the rain stopped. After being changed dozens of times, the plan on paper was finally sent to the City Hall. The clerks, clerks, engineers, and architectural planners who had been working day and night without rest, formed a team with huge dark circles under their eyes and rushed to various locations in Florence with large rolls of drawings.

The merciful Pope sent out his trusted bodyguards to protect them. These bodyguards were all dressed as monks, with simple black robes and hoods that concealed their figures tightly. They were as silent as sculptures, with their hands tucked into their sleeves, following this group of powerless and chattering scholars and clerks, like a pack of wolves surrounding a flock of sheep.

They did not speak, nor did they answer the questions of the curious scholars. The scholars, having hit a wall, soon lost interest in them and began to focus their attention on the poor road conditions after the rain, shaking their heads at the buildings in the lower city that were growing like tumors.

"Unbelievable... If it rains again, everyone living inside will be crushed to death!"

"Oh my god, there has never been a fire here, it's incredible! If a spark falls here, I bet it will burn the whole of Florence into a big torch!"

The scholars cursed the poor architectural planning with great anguish. The people who poked their heads out of these dilapidated buildings had alert and fierce expressions on their faces like hedgehogs. However, when they came into contact with the Pope's Guards beside them, these expressions melted quickly like snow in the sun.

There were a few aloof-looking women in the team. They wore robes similar to those of nuns, with an armband made of white cloth on their arms, on which was painted the thorny double-winged totem of the Papal Palace. Under the robes were trousers tied around the ankles. Each of them carried a heavy-looking wooden box. The woman in the lead had short hair that stuck to her scalp, sharp and bright blue eyes, and high cheekbones and a pointed chin, which made her look difficult to approach.

"Is the shed ready?" Astasia was tired of following that endless group of scholars, so she simply left them behind and turned to ask their leader.

The guide was also wearing a monk's black robe. He was not as silent as his companions. Instead, he was surprisingly cheerful, smiling like a sparrow among a flock of black crows. "It has been set up a long time ago. According to the lady's suggestion, each shed has a curtain."

Astasia nodded with satisfaction and repeated: "Today we are only receiving women and children."

She emphasized again: "All women, as long as they want to come."

The person in charge was stunned for a moment, and noticed that her eyes passed over the wooden sign of a rose house next door, and immediately understood what she meant: "I know, no one will stop them."

For a long time, only men could serve as doctors, and even if women learned medical skills, they could only show their skills in obstetrics and gynecology. Only a few people could receive treatment, and prostitutes were at the bottom of the contempt chain. No doctor was willing to receive a prostitute who was full of diseases. Many people also believed that receiving treatment with prostitutes would ruin their reputation, so once they got sick, only death was waiting for these poor women.

But Astasia didn't care.

In her eyes, all women in the world are lovely and pure. They have noble souls bestowed by the Lord. God is born from a woman's body and is born female. Why can men dominate women in such a superior manner?

She led her medical team into the sheds, which were built very simply with bamboo poles, oiled linen and hemp ropes - but the builders must have had good skills, as they blocked the wind from every gap and were very sturdy. Astasia nodded with satisfaction, which meant that her patients could expose their bodies here without worrying about being peeped at.

She opened the curtain. A notice for free diagnosis had been posted outside. At the same time, a clerk was loudly promoting it. "Free" had an irresistible attraction for everyone in the lower city. Ragged men and women carefully gathered around and looked at these abrupt sealed sheds. There was a mixture of suspicion and expectation in their eyes. When they saw that all the people coming in and out were women, someone finally couldn't help asking, "Where's the doctor?"

They were very self-aware and knew that the people who could come here to treat them would definitely not be powerful people. They might be some apprentices. But even if they were apprentices, they would be hard to come by. And they did not see any men who looked like apprentices here.

"We are."

Astasia held a basin of water, turned her head and glanced at him, then said, "Men, come back tomorrow."

"Woman..." Some people hesitated and stopped, and more people began to look at Astasia and others and whispered, their eyes constantly shifting on her too-short hair.

"Why are they all women?"

"A gynecological doctor? Then what are we doing here..."

Several burly men in the team showed gloomy expressions.

A female doctor frowned and corrected them: "We are general practitioners."

The men exchanged glances with each other, burst out laughing, put their hands on their crotch, and made an obscene gesture: "Then do you want to look at me here too? Hahahahahahahaha"

"...There are curtains hanging all over the room. Who knows what they are doing in there, a group of women..."

The atmosphere around quickly became weird, many men began to exchange meaningful glances and chuckle, this kind of obscene joke was very popular in the downtown area and it quickly spread. The women who were originally standing in the line also stood there awkwardly, they did not approve of these bad jokes, but it was obvious that as long as they walked into the shed to receive treatment, they would soon become part of the joke.

"The woman at the far end is the prettiest. I want to choose her--" A man was chuckling quietly with his companions. Before he could finish his words, he heard exclamations from all around him. Then he felt a chill on his temples. The belated sense of crisis made his scalp numb. He turned his face to the side tremblingly, and saw his hair falling in the corner of his eye. He touched it with his hand and found a bald spot on one side of his scalp.

The leading female doctor stood beside him and looked at him coldly, holding a scalpel that looked extremely sharp, with a few strands of her own short hair on the blade.

The man was like a fish that had been pulled ashore. He stared at the vicious woman with bulging eyes. His throat churned a few times, and suddenly a large spot on his crotch was wet.

The people around her sighed and silently took a few steps back. Astasia's expression did not change at all. She looked around slowly, and every man who met her eyes dodged and avoided her gaze.

The female doctor once again calmly announced: "We are doctors. We will see women and children today. The men can come tomorrow."

She didn't say any more threatening words, but she stood there with the knife in her hand, and everyone fell silent for some unknown reason.

This farce soon reached the Pope's ears. Raphael sighed and added another part of the guards to the lower town to protect the doctors and scholars. He did not suggest recalling them at all. This era was so unfair to women. If Astasiania insisted on going on this path, this was what they would inevitably face.

Count Dandolle brought

Another group of surveyors went to the outskirts of Florence to plan the land and prepare to build a new residential area according to the Pope's order. The population of Florence had been increasing, and the original urban planning could no longer meet the needs. Anyway, after confiscating the lords' homes, he had a lot of wealth, so he took this opportunity to expand the city in a drastic manner and renovate the old facilities one by one.

Raphael stuffed old Dondol's box back into the cabinet and decided that he didn't want to see it again in the short term.

Even though the dried blood was exposed in front of him, he didn't intend to do anything.

Several people involved in the conspiracy have already died. Are we going to pass on the hatred to the next generation who know nothing? Raphael just felt tired. Blood, death, and betrayal surrounded him all the time, like poisonous snakes wrapped around his neck, hissing at him. The feeling of being in it was very complicated, and he could only forget it temporarily.

But occasionally, he would recall the scene of visiting old Dondole that year. His cloudy eyes were filled with complex emotions. The old man was lying on a soft bed, with doors and windows closed around him. The heavy aroma of frankincense and myrrh floated in the air, and that aroma mixed with the old man's dying breath, turning into a strange and unpleasant smell. The skinny old Dondole looked at him. The disease had destroyed the old man's spirit. The dying man, who was in a coma in dreams and reality, opened his tired eyes, and when he saw him, he suddenly burst into tears.

He mistook Raphael for Delacroix.

The decrepit old man called out the name of his deceased friend and asked the same question over and over again.

"Have you forgiven me?"

This question is destined to echo forever in the empty history, and the person qualified to answer it died late one night many years ago.

Raphael put these heavy thoughts behind him. A new letter was sent from Roman. Sancha successfully wore the crown in Belico a few days ago and inherited the throne of Roman. Raphael replied to the congratulatory letter and attached corresponding gifts.

It can be said that through the bridge of Roman, Calais, the Papal States, Roman and Assyria have now entered a stable honeymoon period. Except for Assyria which is still in civil war, the relations between the major countries are harmonious and friendly, as if world peace is at hand.

Calais also began to send gifts to the Papal States regularly. The expensive gifts were shipped from Tudor to Florence and presented to the Pope in the name of tribute from the diocese and tribute from the secular monarch. At the same time, Emperor Calais's reputation became increasingly unbearable.

Of course, there were some falsehoods in these rumors, but no one could deny that he was almost fanatically doting on a male favorite of humble origin. Everyone was waiting to see Queen Roman's reaction, but to their disappointment, Roman and Calais' relationship remained the same as before.

Emperor Calais still retained a little bit of rationality. He gave a large number of gifts to Berico's fiancée. These gifts were very valuable, enough to make everyone who saw the caravan dumbfounded. If a man's love can be measured by wealth, then Berico's queen is undoubtedly the sweetheart of Emperor Calais.

Perhaps it was this statement that made the Queen turn a deaf ear to the bad rumors about the Emperor, but in fact...

"...I don't care who he likes. Thank God, this will allow me to stay in Rome for two more years. At least I have to wait until my mother's war in Assyria is over, otherwise Rome will fall into chaos. I pray to the Lord every day, hoping that the wedding date can be postponed. As long as Francis IV doesn't have any illegitimate children, I can generously give the other half of his bed to that man..."

Although Sanxia has become a queen, her tone in the letter is still as lively as a young girl, which makes Raphael laugh and cry.

But it's good this way, at least she won't be sad about it.

Raphael folded the letter and thought to himself.

Lucresa walked over with a book in her arms. She had been sitting by the bay window, where there were fluffy beds and hot milk tea. The little girl was naturally sensitive and liked to stick to His Holiness the Pope. Raphael was also very indulgent to the children he raised. Besides, Lucresa was a very smart girl. Teaching her to read made Raphael feel a sense of accomplishment - this became his recent entertainment activity to relax himself.

And... Raphael took the thick book from Lucreza's hand, and his eyes flew towards the door - of course he couldn't see the door through the various arches and decorations, but he knew that the person guarding outside the door must be Redrick.

Yes, that naughty brother who disliked Raphael and always opposed him, seemed to have become much more obedient since Roman's trip. Although he still showed an unconvinced look and talked back to Raphael, he had never refused any task assigned to him and even seemed to enjoy it.

Raphael understood it as a long-time idle dude gaining a sense of accomplishment in his work. As for Redrick's psychological changes... he didn't have the time to study it.

Redrick did not propose to leave the Knights Templar, and Raphael was too lazy to care about him. As long as Leshert didn't find it annoying, what did it have to do with him?

The Knight Commander was well known for his good temper and tolerance, and in his eyes, Redrick was not a trouble at all.

But I don’t know if it’s Raphael’s illusion, but Redrick seems to be very caring towards Lucreza. He had this feeling on the way to Roman. Redrick actually has a sense of responsibility towards Lucreza like a brother towards his sister.

Raphael didn't want to understand the train of thought of his neurotic brother at all. Dealing with the greetings from Emperor Calais was already distressing enough for him.

Dudley's gifts were still piled up in his storeroom. Not to mention the jewels, the irises that were delivered with the soil were too ambiguous. Not only was Raphael unable to return them, he also had to find ways to hide them from Julius and Ferrante - although he didn't know why he had to hide them. Raphael thought it was because it involved the friendly relationship between the Papal States and Calais. Francis IV didn't care about the scandal, but he did!

The author has something to say:

Redrick doesn't think that way about Lucretia! I'm just looking at my sister, don't think too much about it.

School has started. Because of the epidemic at the end of last year, the final exam of last semester has been moved to next week. And I received a notice yesterday that I was asked to participate in the city-level open class competition at the end of February. I only have a dozen days to prepare. I am exhausted... So this month's update... is basically going to be a blank. I'm very sorry. I have been preparing for class since 6 o'clock in the morning today, and I have only squeezed out one chapter now. I feel like I really don't have time. Please understand. Thank you very much [deep bow]