Chapter 13 Misty Rose (Thirteen)
◎Resembles an old friend◎
The expressions of some of the people present changed rapidly. They subconsciously began turning their heads to look for allies, exchanged glances with each other, and thought gloomily about what to do next.
The Papal States has a total of thirteen city-states besides Florence. In order to "facilitate unified management" and "better serve His Holiness the Pope", their lords have established a thirteen-member city-state alliance parliament. Each lord takes turns to be the speaker, and in recent years it happened to be the turn of the Potela family.
It was said that it was "out of loyalty to the Pope", but everyone knows what the real purpose is. The Papal States were torn into pieces, and Florence was deliberately excluded. Wasn't it just to better seize the power of the Papal States and gain a completely independent status?
What is Julius Portia doing now?
Raphael took in the changes in the expressions of most people present and smiled very slightly. Of course, there was no need for him to extend his hand for Julius to kiss the Pope's ring at this moment, but so what?
That's what he wanted to do. He wanted to force Julius to bow to him right now.
At this moment, here - in full view of everyone, bow your heads to him and swear allegiance to him.
Irrefutable, undisputed.
The moment Julius lowered his head, it was undeniable that a twisted sense of pleasure and strange intoxication rose in his heart.
Raphael suddenly thought that he might prefer this kind of oppression by force to any polite respect.
Strip away all politeness and tolerant smiles, put power, wealth and interests on the scales, grab what you don't have, and plunder what you want.
Just like he learned in the ghetto.
Everyone at the banquet had different thoughts in their minds, and some people were absent-minded until the end. Sangxia didn't care about this little twist. The happy little princess jumped into the carriage presented by the Pope - this carriage, which used the latest technology of the Papal States, had a ferocious steam pipe chassis. The gears and copper pipes absorbed the heat from the coal, driving the carriage to a higher speed. The endless luggage carts followed Sangxia's carriage, all the way to the east.
Duke François, with a beautiful woman in his arms, watched the convoy disappear into the dust, drank the wine in the golden cup into his throat, rudely threw the golden cup with exquisite angel carvings on it to the ground, and showed a strange smile.
After the banquet, the Portia Bank restored its previous "good relations" with the Papal Palace. Before the gift from the Queen of Assyria arrived, the financial difficulties of the Papal Palace were solved with the help of the Portia Bank.
And as a courtesy...the appointment document that had been hidden in Raphael's drawer for nearly two months was finally signed.
Julius Portia was appointed Secretary General of the Papal Palace, assisting the Lord of Kings in handling all worldly affairs and serving as the highest administrative officer of Florence.
The document was posted on the bulletin board of the Papal Palace for three days, and copies were sent to various city-states of the Papal States. Portia sent people to walk around Florence with drums and gongs to tell people the good news.
On the same day that the appointment letter was issued, Julius moved into the Papal Palace and began to officially perform his duties as Secretary General of the Papal Palace.
It was obvious to the naked eye that Raphael felt that the burden on him had been lightened a lot. He no longer needed to review the numerous documents one by one. Julius's ability was unquestionable. With the strong financial and human support of Portia, the entire Florence was getting back on track at a very fast speed.
- Of course, there is also an important reason. Due to Portia’s intimidation, the cardinals are no longer keen on tripping up the new pope, but instead obediently obey all instructions from the Papal Palace.
This sudden relief made Raphael feel unspeakably angry.
But he couldn't say or express anything.
However, Julius was very sensible. He no longer took care of all the affairs like he did in his previous life. Instead, he let Raphael decide for himself which affairs to give to him and which affairs to handle himself. He even stopped taking the initiative to solve problems for Raphael unless Raphael asked for it himself.
This is the attitude of treating partners equally. Raphael admitted that the sensitive nerve in his brain was soothed a lot by Julius.
So in his spare time, he finally had time to visit the group of reserve members of the Pope's Guard that he had specially selected.
Almost a month has passed since this group of teenagers were sent to Florence. Raphael only arranged a teacher for them and did not care about the rest. After a period of training, reports were received from below and more than 20 unsuitable people were eliminated. The only ones who stayed were teenagers with good character and quality. Among the 32 people, the youngest was 14 years old and the oldest was 20 years old.
Raphael didn't care about age. Children of this era matured precociously. It was common to get engaged and married at around ten years old, and by the age of twenty they were already the father of several children. No matter the age, as long as they were useful, it was fine.
Raphael did not call for any companions, and even refused his entourage. He strolled alone to the most remote corner of the Papal Palace. The building here had not been renovated for many years, and large parts of the walls had fallen off. Thirty-two teenagers were running around the edge of the marble-paved square.
Each of them carried a heavy wooden stake on his shoulder, his upper body was naked, and he wore linen shorts on his lower body, with a hemp rope tied around his waist as a belt. Everyone was sweating profusely, veins bulged on his forehead, and his breathing sounded like a broken bellows.
But even though it was so painful, none of them stopped or even slowed down secretly.
"Run! You bunch of rubbish! Scum! His Majesty gave you bread and blankets, not for you to have fun here! Do you want to be sent back to the downtown area? To sleep in a pile of horse manure?!"
The instructor supervising them waved a horsewhip and hit the last one without mercy. His expression was cold and he did not hide his contempt for these lucky poor boys.
"You should cry bitterly for this! How lucky you are to be able to protect His Holiness the Pope!"
Hearing his rapid-fire shouting and cursing, the boys gritted their teeth and kept up with their companions. Their faces flushed red as if they were bleeding, and big drops of sweat hit the ground. The marble floor was already covered with a thin layer of damp water vapor.
Raphael, standing in a hidden place, looked at this scene of abuse with indifference, without any intention of going up to "rescue" them.
If it were him in the past, he would definitely go up.
But it was not because he felt that this training was unreasonable, but simply because a "merciful" Pope could not allow such cruel behavior to happen in front of him.
But if there was no such rigorous training, would he have handed over his life to a group of unskilled losers?
With the order, the teenagers who finally heard the ending slogan all rolled on the ground, gasping for breath, looking at the sky with their minds empty.
Therefore, the only young man still standing in the field was very eye-catching.
Raphael squinted and looked over.
The thin boy had messy black curly hair that looked like sheep wool, and his profile was three-dimensional and upright. His skin color was a little dark due to years of hard work, but just a glance at him could reveal the superiority of his appearance.
He was slowly dragging his legs across the open space, pounding his sore and numb muscles as he walked, and sweat was dripping down his chin like a stream.
Raphael couldn't help but fix his eyes on his blurry face.
He couldn't see the other person's face clearly, but he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Maybe it was because he had been looking for too long, the young man looked straight over here after he came to his senses from his tiredness. His deep blue eyes were like a hungry wolf that had found its prey, with undisguised ferocity. Raphael's brows twitched at this sharp gaze.
Ferrante stared at the figure in the corner, and his mind went blank for a moment.
He knew him - of course, how could he not know him, the uncrowned monarch of Florence. He once watched the Pope's golden carriage slowly driving through the streets surrounded by thousands of people, with fragrant petals and ribbons gushing out and scattering like a tide, and the servants distributing black bread and dried meat. Ferrante squeezed over fiercely and snatched the two largest black breads from the basket. He hid the hot bread against his chest while being scolded, and ran after the carriage.
The black bread in his arms was very hot, and the blood surging up from the wild running hit his chest and brain. He was gasping for breath wildly, running flexibly and stumblingly among the crowd, chasing the looming sitting figure.
What is he chasing? It was like a phantom in a dream, a redemption of fate, a saint that lingered in his heart. He didn't know, and he couldn't describe the feeling. He just ran.
He ran until the smell of blood entered his throat, and he was stopped by the guards guarding the edge of the upper city. The illusion and salvation became shattered bubbles. He stopped, sat on the ground, and slowly took out the hot bread - it was not so hot anymore, and it was just the right temperature when he put it into his mouth. Ferrante opened his mouth and put it into his cracked lips, only to find that the skin on his chest was burned with conspicuous red marks.
The closest distance between them was through a guard and the window of the carriage. Through the window, he saw the handsome and beautiful profile of the new Pope, his long golden hair and lavender eyes, and smelled a rich fragrance that seemed to come from heaven.
And now... they were only separated by half an empty square, and there was no one to stop him. As long as he walked over, he could touch his saint who was high above him.
"Get up! Everyone, get up!" the instructor roared and whipped the teenagers who were clinging to the ground. Ferrante, who was affected, shrank back in pain. When he looked back again, the corner was empty.
Raphael was discovered and his guards respectfully escorted him to the lounge upstairs. The person in charge of the group of children stood by the window, pointed out the teenagers one by one to the Pope, and introduced their situation in detail.
"As for the black-haired one, his name is Ferrante. He was sent by the Holy Grail Church in the lower city. The other two with him didn't make it. One went back, and the other was taken away by Cardinal Lombardi. This young man is very determined. He is young among the group, but he is the smartest. There are already several children who follow his lead - he is a natural leader."
The person in charge said with some emotion.
Rafael stroked the windowsill with his fingers, still haunted by the vague familiarity he had felt when he first saw Ferrante: "Where are his parents?"
The person in charge replied: "An illegitimate child. His mother was a prostitute who worked in the rose room, where he was born. His father was said to be a clerk who already had a wife and several children. He could not afford to support this sudden accident, so he did not recognize Ferrante. His mother was also unable to raise him, so she sent him to the Church of the Holy Grail when he was six years old."
Rose Room.
Hearing this familiar name, Raphael's memories shrouded in fog seemed to suddenly come back to life. A long-lost face emerged from the fog. It was a beautiful woman with black curly hair and deep blue eyes, which seemed to always contain tears of sadness. The look she gave him was so gentle that it was heartbreaking.
If you take away the fierceness in Ferrante's eyes, his face would be highly consistent with this one.
"If I have a child," the woman's embrace was warm and fragrant. She patted his back with her soft hands, making him feel drowsy. "I hope he can be as cute and brave as Rafa. Ah, it's better not to be a girl. That's too hard."
“If it’s a child like Rafa, I would name him—” The woman’s voice gradually became blurred by sleepiness, and the last few syllables were lost in her ears.
Raphael's lips moved, and he murmured, "...Liya?"
The person in charge did not hear the Pope's words clearly and turned his head: "What? Your Majesty?"
"No, nothing." Raphael looked at the sweaty teenager downstairs with complicated eyes. In the end, he said nothing, but just ordered lightly, "Take good care of them. When the training is over, let Ferrante come to me."
The person in charge was shocked. He didn't expect that the poor boy's good fortune would come so soon. What an honor it was to be by His Majesty's side! It seems that we really need to take good care of him.
"I only want qualified people. If he is not qualified." Raphael seemed to see through his thoughts. He looked at him without blinking with lavender eyes. The emotions in his eyes were difficult to discern. The last sentence was a little dragged out and he did not continue.
The person in charge understood his words instantly, and a cold sweat broke out on his back. All his previous fantasies disappeared, and he hurriedly lowered his head deeply: "Yes, I understand, Your Majesty."
Raphael took one last look at the square. The teenagers were still shouting slogans energetically. This vibrant and enthusiastic scene seemed incompatible with his tired and corrupt soul. Raphael was silent for two seconds, then turned and left.
The author has something to say:
I'm throwing a tantrum and begging for comments, but I feel like there are fewer and fewer comments. Why is no one talking to me? This chatterbox author is going to suffocate! The days with few comments are like torture! If you pass by, take a look at this fat pigeon. Leave a comment after you eat it. Oh, oh, oh, even if it’s a fancy stewed pigeon? ! [It is best not to]
Humble Pigeon Rub
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