Chapter 106 Hope Blue Diamond (Twenty-three)
◎Whip◎
Most soldiers have an instinct to follow orders. Raphael's imperative was short and harsh, and considering his status, Leshert knelt on the mat again without giving it much thought.
Raphael slowly turned his wheelchair, as if he was just looking for a position where he could see Leshert's expression clearly, but when he stopped, he was right between the statue and Leshert, making it look like the Knight Commander was kneeling down to him.
Raphael watched the fresh blood on Leshert's body seeping more and more clearly through the thin linen cloth. He raised his hand and placed the whip against the Knight Commander's shoulder. The rough whip head slid down his shoulder and stopped at his chest.
"Take off your clothes."
Each of Raphael's orders was short and concise, which also meant that the order was not to be disobeyed.
Leshert straightened his back awkwardly, hesitating and not moving.
After a brief confrontation, an impatient look appeared on the Pope's face. His eyes were blue due to long-term lack of sleep. His tired eyes made his impatience even more sharp and intimidating.
"I said, take it off."
Raphael pressed the whip against the buttons of Leshert's clothes. In order to meet the Pope, the Knight Commander put on his clothes very hastily, and the first two buttons of his collar were not buttoned, revealing a smooth chest, which allowed the whip to press against his skin smoothly.
The Pope's tone was not very good. Leshert hesitated for a moment, but still raised his hand to unbutton the clothes and draped the blood-stained clothes at the end of the bed. When the cloth was separated from the skin, the wound was pulled again, and wet blood seeped out of the scar.
To some extent, Leshet actually cared more about his own attire than Julius. Julius usually wrapped himself tightly only because etiquette required it and he did not like being touched by others. He did not think it was a big deal whether he wore clothes or not, but Leshet adhered to morality and rules from the bottom of his heart. Therefore, Raphael had seen Julius in dishevel more than once, but this was the first time he saw Leshet like this.
The Knight Commander showed an uncomfortable expression after taking off his shirt. He seldom exposed his body in front of outsiders. He regretted taking off his clothes almost the next second. He bent his fingers to hook the clothes back, but the Pope who saw through his thoughts pressed his shoulders coldly with a whip.
The Knight Commander, who never neglected training, had a good figure that was one in a million. His smooth skin was like perfect mountains, and his flexible muscles with explosive power were hidden under his smooth skin. His arms were strong, and his waist and abdomen were covered with clear lines. These strips of muscle gave him greater endurance and explosive power without making him look as thick as a stone giant. At this moment, this perfect body was covered with many whip marks, with fresh marks superimposed on old ones. The healed wounds were light white, and the fresh ones were still bleeding thinly.
These scars were like messy handwriting, cruelly tearing open the Knight Commander's back and chest. The powerful and indestructible leader of the Knights Templar had such scars on his body, which formed a very strange contrast.
Especially when this strong man knelt in front of him, removed all weapons, with such scars and revealing his most vulnerable side, even Raphael felt an almost cruel desire to control him.
Leshert lowered his head slightly, like a criminal who had committed a heinous crime, waiting for the judge's judgment.
"Now, confess to me."
The Pope held the whip in both hands, and the thorns on the whip passed through his palms, causing a burning pain.
Leshert raised his head slightly, his golden hair fell on his shoulders, his deep and beautiful green eyes were as clear as a mirror, and everyone he stared at should reflect on whether they were pure and flawless. Although his current posture and expression were undoubtedly that of a penitent, his eyes were so frank that Raphael could clearly see the pain in his eyes that was about to tear him apart.
A beam of light from the window fell on the ground, and half of Raphael's body happened to be sitting in the halo. In Leshert's eyes, the Pope, whose half body was covered with golden light, was strangely merged with the statue behind him. The snow-white vestments and golden chasubles surrounded the Pope's body, along with his long light golden hair. Everything made him vague and hazy. Only the pair of lavender eyes looked over clearly and compassionately, as if the Holy Lord was gazing at him through these eyes.
“…I am guilty.”
Under the bewitching gaze of those eyes, the leader of the Knights Temperament muttered in a trance.
"Repent, my child, I am listening."
The gentle voice seemed to come from far away, out of reach.
"My faith has been shaken." After saying this, the Knight Commander closed his eyes in pain.
In the halo, the young Pope leaned forward a little, his eyes scraping across the Knight Commander's handsome face like a knife. He lifted the Knight Commander's chin with a whip, forcing him to look directly at himself. The whip made of hemp rope mixed with tanned thorns soon left a red mark on the Knight Commander's throat.
"Tell me, what made you waver?" he asked in a low voice.
Leshert shuddered. This question seemed to touch upon some taboo area of his, so he did not answer it immediately.
This silent rejection made Raphael raise his eyebrows. He looked at Leshert silently for a moment, then raised his hand and pulled it out mercilessly.
The sudden pain made the Knight Commander shiver all over, his muscles tensed, and a hideous red mark soon appeared from his shoulder to his chest. Strands of blood slowly seeped out from the irregular wound. This pain that he had long been accustomed to made Leshert's unstable heart calm down. Along with the burning pain, his expression gradually calmed down.
Raphael retracted the whip, wiped a drip of blood from the whip with his thumb, and repeated the command: "Answer."
Leshert lowered his head, and only his light breathing could be heard in the small space.
Raphael frowned. He really didn't like this kind of hard silence. It was like a stubborn rock that made it impossible for him to start.
The Pope then raised his hand expressionlessly and whipped the Knight Commander hard again.
He did not hold back, and blood soon seeped out of the wound.
"Recite the Code of the Order." Raphael said coldly.
This time, Leshert didn't stay silent for too long.
The man's voice sounded low and smooth in the small room. It was something he had long been familiar with, so familiar that it was engraved in his bones. He could recite it instinctively without even thinking about it. And every time he spoke a word, Raphael would accurately step on the ending tone of the word and swing a whip, causing Leshert's steady voice to be mixed with painful gasps.
"I vow to be kind to the weak."...
"I vow to stand up to rape."
"I swear to fight against all wrongs—"
"I swear...to fight for the defenseless."
"…I, I swear to help anyone who asks me for help."
"I swear... not to harm any woman or child..."
"I swear to always serve the Holy Lord devoutly, taking Him as my sun... and beacon, until my soul follows His messenger to heaven, and never... betray."
By the time he finished reciting the code, there were several more bloody scars on his back. His always straight back also bent slightly. The hideous scars ran through his entire chest. The blood flowed down the texture of his muscles and seeped into the waistband of his pants, dyeing the off-white linen cloth into a glaring red.
Raphael's breathing was no longer as smooth as it was at the beginning. To apply the right amount of force consistently was a technical and physical job. His unexercised body was sending a stern warning to Raphael. His health had long been deteriorating. Even such a mechanical movement caused a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. It seemed that Leshert, who was beaten, was much more calm than him.
Raphael did not show this subtle fatigue.
"You swore to serve the Lord devoutly until your soul followed His messenger to heaven and never betray Him," Raphael said, "but your faith has wavered. What made you no longer devout to the Lord?"
"No," Leshert retorted quickly, with a look of astonishment on his silent face, "My devotion to the Holy Lord has never changed!"
"God requires His people to be honest and frank with themselves." The young Pope leaned over, holding the bloody whip in one hand and pressing the other hand on Leshert's shoulder - there was a scar he had just made on it, and there was blood in the flesh. Raphael pressed his hand on it without hesitation, and the hot skin from being whipped mixed with the hot and moist liquid stuck to his palm.
He still showed no sympathy for Leshert's miserable condition, and pressed on his wounds almost cruelly. The beautiful beast with golden fur lowered its head and gasped for breath with wounds all over its body, and a low whimper came from its chest. Raphael pressed him coldly, like a cruel and ruthless animal trainer.
"If you are as pious as you say, you should be open to the Lord, your Father. Now I am in front of you. Do you want to hide anything from me, my child?"
The end of his tone suddenly softened, and there was something tender in his words. His eyes lingered on Leshert's wounds, with pity in his lavender eyes, as if these scars were not caused by him, and he just accidentally discovered this injured beast, so he kindly caressed and comforted it.
There was an almost holy compassion in his eyes. As the human incarnation of the Holy Lord, Raphael was good at using all his advantages as weapons. Leshert looked at him in severe pain, and had the illusion that he really saw the Holy Lord descending into this beautiful body and staring at him through those purple eyes.
Raphael held Leshet's face with one hand and gently pushed the loose hair that fell in front of his eyes behind his ears. At this moment, he did not look like the cold person who whipped Leshet a moment ago. The Virgin Mary could not be more gentle than him.
"I am guilty..." The Knight Commander raised one hand and tightly grasped Raphael's wrist. His strength was so great that it seemed that he could crush Raphael's wrist bones. The Pope frowned secretly, and felt that the hot hand was shaking violently and uncontrollably, and his expression returned to the pity he had just shown.
"I have doubts about the orders of the Holy Father," the Knight Commander's voice was so low that it was almost inaudible. "I swore to fight for the unarmed, to be kind to the weak and anyone in need, but... my knights started a war on the land of Assyria..."
The corners of Raphael's smiling lips flattened, and he looked down at Leshert with an expressionless face, and the man's breathing was mixed with tremors of pain.
The Pope slowly but firmly removed his hand from the knight.
He pulled out his long hand, tightened his grip on the whip once more, and interrupted Leshert: "No, my child, you are lying."
"The Lord warns His children not to deceive."
The whip cut through the air and hit the human body, making a dull sound.
There was almost no intact skin and flesh left on Leshert's body. This whip was superimposed on another scar. Even the Knight Commander, who was used to being injured, was almost collapsed by the doubled pain. He couldn't help but let out a painful sound from his throat. Sweat slid down his chin and neck into the wound, bringing out an even sharper pain.
Raphael reached out again, gently wiped the sweat from the Knight Commander's cheek, and touched his wound with his fingers, as if a silent question.
Leshert did not dodge. Even though he shivered in pain, he still knelt there obediently, with no intention of retreating at all.
Raphael is the Pope and the Holy Lord's representative on earth. He will never escape the pain and questioning bestowed by the Holy Lord.
"It's... the Religious Freedom Act." He finally uttered the real answer amid Raphael's almost cruel whipping and gentle comfort. When this sentence came out of his mouth, he closed his eyes tightly, and the sweat condensed on his eyelashes fell with this action.
"So," Raphael let go of his face. When the cold and soft warmth left his face, Leshert actually had the morbid urge to follow that hand and touch it. He used all his self-control to control his actions. He lowered his eyes again and listened to the Pope's slow tone, "...So, you are doubting my faith."
What a serious accusation this is.
But Leshert said nothing.
Raphael was silent for a while, then suddenly laughed.
"What a brave knight," he exclaimed softly in an aria-like tone.
"Then why are you suffering from such a vacillation?" Raphael asked, "Why not do it like before, like when Lion VI was here - you didn't recognize him, so the entire Knights Order kept a low profile and almost disappeared during the years he was in power. Why don't you do this? If you choose to leave me with the Knights Order, everything I have now will be in jeopardy, and I won't even be able to impose any effective punishment on you."
He had a smile on his face as he said this, his eyes fixed on every subtle expression of Leshet, calmly guessing his thoughts. Although he stated his dangerous situation, as long as Leshet showed any hesitation, he would not hesitate to find a way to put the plan of executing the Knight Commander on the agenda.
Although Leshert was really important to him, he would rather have a fragmented order of knights than a large military group that was united but could leave him at any time.
There was a flash of pain in Leshert's eyes.
He had never considered leaving Raphael as an option, which was why he had imprisoned himself here, brutally whipping himself.
He longed to awaken his reason from such pain, but his emotions dragged him deeper and deeper into the swamp.
He is guilty.
Through the hazy light, he looked up at Raphael. The young Pope was leaning over him. Their faces were only a few inches apart and they could even feel each other's breathing.
The eyes that had appeared in his dreams countless times since leaving Calais were staring at him realistically, and he would rather this moment was just a dream.
He is guilty.
Raphael lowered his eyes and looked at him: "You know what is right and what is wrong. Just as you can't tell where I am wrong now, you know that my decision is correct. If you really want to protect everyone equally as you said, my order can reduce countless casualties. The love of the Holy Lord is equally given to all people living in the world."
Lesherte gave a wry smile and said softly, "You are right, but I am still guilty."
His sin was not that his devotion to the Pope was shaken, but that he had lost the independence, reason and a soul that would never be shaken by others that a knight should have.
"Please punish me for my disrespect for you."
The devout and loyal Knight Commander bowed his head to his monarch.
The Pope straightened up, raised his hand, and swung the whip mercilessly again. The intense pain was like a stimulant, which made Leshert's brain feel a little clear, but the long-lasting pain that followed dragged him into the abyss of unconsciousness again.
The Knight Commander's upper body was covered with crisscrossing whip marks. Raphael held back his rapid breathing, threw the whip on the ground, raised his hand and placed it on the Knight Commander's head, just like the Lord touching his devout believer.
"I forgive."
In extreme pain, Leshter heard the voice that saved his soul.
The author has something to say:
In a way... the Knight Commander is an M [begins to ramble]
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