Chapter 2 Misty Rose (Part 2)
◎Princess Roman and Grand Duchess of Assyria◎
A strange, terrifying feeling swept through everyone's mind like a storm. Regardless of whether they believed in the Holy See or not, when the Pope's eyes stared at them, those who were being stared at felt so moved that they almost cried. The emotions of countless people merged together. The angels and the Virgin Mary on the surrounding murals, stained glass windows, and sculptures were silent. The organ roared and sang. The magnificent notes pushed people's souls to lightly leave their bodies, float upwards, and merge into the pure spiritual baptism, becoming part of the brilliant silhouette of eternal history.
"Oh Lord..." Someone murmured with sobs, gazing at the Holy Son-like Pope through tears, and in a trance, he felt as if he had seen a miracle.
Raphael, looking down from above, took in the expressions of everyone, his heart remained calm. As an organization that uses spiritual means to infect people, the Holy See was already extremely proficient in such a set of rituals, how to set off emotions, how to stir people's hearts, from the moment they set foot into the Cathedral of the Holy Thorn, every detail served for this moment.
The cardinal standing by announced the start of the audience ceremony. Amid the long and loud roll call, the guests, starting from the front row, came forward one by one to meet the new Pope.
"His Royal Highness, François-Alexandre de Calais, Duke of Calais and Montpensier, Count of Rockefeller—"
Following the cardinal's resonant voice, a man of medium build with slender limbs stood up from the front row. He had a pair of curly mustaches that were very popular among aristocratic men at the time, his brown curly hair was sleek and shiny, and each curl was the same size. His snow-white ruff was embellished with transparent diamonds, his muscular body was wrapped in snow-white stockings and a long stiff silk coat, his eyes were sharp and arrogant, and his left hand was always on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Raphael remembered him. As the Duke of Calais Empire, one of the most powerful countries in the world, the uncle of the emperor was only thirty years old this year, in the prime of his life. As the "assistant advisor" beside the young emperor, he was actually the real ruler of that huge empire. He was arrogant, overbearing, greedy, and ambitious...
The Duke of Calais took a few steps forward, took off his sword at the reminder of the papal deacon - Raphael noticed the fleeting displeasure on his face - and stopped in front of the papal throne, looking up at the young Pope across a few steps.
Although he was looking up, the Duke's expression was full of undisguised scrutiny. After a brief eye contact, François knelt on one knee, lifted the corner of the Pope's robe woven with gold thread and kissed the thorn pattern on it: "On behalf of Calais, I swear my faith in you and the Holy See you lead, and at the same time pay tribute to you, Your Majesty, may your blessings and your reputation spread throughout the world."
"His Majesty the Emperor of my country has entrusted me to convey his sincere greetings to you. He cannot come to Florence in person, but he has ordered me to send gifts for your coronation - the crown and vestments of Saint Lila that Paul VI left behind, as well as this year's tribute from Calais."
Raphael wore a heavy and gorgeous crown of thorns, like a holy and beautiful puppet. Only when he spoke did the inhumanity fade away a lot: "Thank you for the greetings from His Majesty François. I also wish his reign to be long and eternal. I hope you can have an unforgettable time in Florence. If possible, the Papal Palace welcomes you at any time."
The young Pope's voice is slightly low, and the tail tone always has some suggestive hoarse texture, as if rubbing velvet with fingers, which is overly soft and lingering, making people can't help wanting more.
The two looked at each other again, and saw superficial politeness and courteousness in each other's eyes. Francois was not a devout Christian. From a private perspective, he was influenced by his mother and had no good feelings towards the Vatican. From a public perspective, Calais was one of the main dioceses for the Vatican to obtain tax revenue, and a large amount of wealth from the people and the court flowed into the Vatican's private treasury. It would be strange for Francois to have a good impression of one of the culprits who had seized his huge wealth.
The overly false and polite greetings and audience soon ended, and the Grand Duke of Calais sat back in his original seat without looking back, waiting for the ceremony to begin in boredom, while secretly observing the beautiful women around him and occasionally casting his eyes towards the choir.
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Roman, Grand Duchess of Assyria Valentinus and Countess of Hesandora, Sancha Isabella Gondola Romanina!"
The person with such a long and noble title is a girl of only nineteen years old.
Unlike François, she happily and quickly untied the sword from her waist and handed it to the Pope's deacon beside her, then lifted her wide skirt and took two steps forward.
The sapphire blue skirt closed like petals, rubbing against the smooth white marble floor, and then bloomed again under the Pope's throne. The girl who had just congratulated Raphael softly knelt in front of him, bowed deeply, and raised her round face, her blue eyes sparkling, and there were two small dimples on the corners of her lips.
Growing up surrounded by abundant love, bright, lively, bold and intelligent.
She is a girl who makes people happy at first sight.
Raphael was very impressed with her, even though they had only met once at his coronation, but...
"Congratulations again, Your Majesty," said the girl with long, smooth, golden-brown curly hair gently. She probably inherited her looks from her mother, who was known as the "Warrior Queen." Her eyebrows and eyes were full of exotic charm. Her skin color was not the pale color that noble ladies pursued morbidly, but a healthy light wheat color, as beautiful as pale gold pearls. Like François, she kissed the thorns on the Pope's vestments. "On behalf of Rome and Assyria, I swear my faith in you and the Church you lead. May the banner of Florence continue to shine in your hands. Your coronation makes my mother and I extremely happy."
"My mother, Her Majesty Queen Roman and Queen of Assyria, has asked me to give you a personal gift."
The girl, who holds the dual titles of Roman Princess and Assyrian Grand Duchess, pulled out a dagger from her lace sleeves.
The deacons and the papal guards on both sides suddenly became furious and subconsciously wanted to turn around and walk over here, but the young Pope took the initiative and gently raised two fingers to stop them.
It was very strange. Although he had just been crowned, he already had the temperament of someone who had been influenced by power for a long time and was accustomed to giving orders in the most concise and comfortable way, which made people obey his orders involuntarily.
Raphael lowered his eyes and stared quietly at the dagger held in the princess's hand.
"My mother heard about your coronation and ordered a craftsman to make this. Ivory and violet gemstones were chosen to inlay the handles. The one in the middle is—"
——It is the diamond ‘Shining Ocean’ that was treasured by the former Grand Duke of Gondola in Assyria…
"It is the diamond 'Shining Ocean' that was treasured by the former Duke of Gondola of Assyria. Besides, it is also very sharp—"
—Can cut the neck of a wild bull...
"Capable of cutting a bison's neck—before it knows it."
The girl's brisk words overlapped with his memories perfectly. In his illusory vision, an identical shadow seemed to appear on the gorgeous and elegant dagger.
Indeed, it is very beautiful and has a sharp edge that lives up to its reputation. After receiving this gift at the coronation, the Pope happily carried it with him day and night, but it was not stained with blood in the hands of the Pope. The merciful and compassionate Pope chose to use words and spirit to influence people's hearts. The only time it was unsheathed was on a quiet night five years later.
Its owner chose to use it to end his own life, but in the end he was not able to successfully hold it in his hands.
What a pathetic weapon, a tool for killing, but kept in its sheath its entire life.
The corners of Raphael's mouth curled up slightly, but despite this, he still made the same choice as in his previous life.
"Thank you very much for Assyria's gift," the young pope said with a dazzling smile. He really liked the gift, so he added, "I like it very much. Please give my regards to Her Majesty the Queen. May Assyria and Rome be prosperous forever under her rule. I also wish you peace and happiness in your life."
Sang Xia knelt and nodded again. Before leaving, she suddenly said in a voice so low that only the two of them could hear: "I like you very much, Your Holiness."
Raphael: “?”
This didn't happen last time.
The lively and bold princess slyly lowered her eyes and said, "What a pity! If you were not the Pope who swore to devote the rest of his life to God, I would ask my mother to let you marry me."
Raphael:? ?
Raphael: ...
It's not like he hasn't received such passionate confessions before, but
It was a long, long time ago, when he was still a child. After he entered the prosperous and gorgeous social scene of Florence, learned to deal with the powerful and wealthy, and faced the reserved and prudent aristocratic women, he never spoke such frankly again.
Men and women who wrap themselves in perfume, flowers and silk usually prefer to express their feelings with their eyes, and convey their love with unrestrained words and subtle codewords, but to express love with words in public...
Raphael almost thought that he had met another hooligan who coveted his looks, but because Sang Xia was too frank and her eyes seemed sincere, his speechlessness turned into another kind of laughter and tears.
The chill that had been weighing heavily on my heart since just now dissipated a lot without me noticing.
"Thank you for your kindness," the Pope, dressed in his best clothes, smiled slightly, which freed him from the puppet-like restraints and allowed him to show his beautiful and lively appearance. "I'm sorry that I can't fulfill your wish."
Princess Sanxia still smiled: "It doesn't matter. If you change your mind and don't want to be the Pope one day, send me a message and I will bring the Assyrian Legion to Florence to marry you!"
Raphael: “…”
This time he really didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
This princess is really... not particular about details.
I don’t know how the king and queen of Roman raised her to be like this.
Calais, Assyria and Roman are the three most powerful countries in the world today. After Francois and Sancha stepped down, the rest of the small countries moved even slower. They seemed to have tried their best to make a good impression in front of the Pope - or perhaps they wanted to stay longer in front of Francois and Sancha.
The most exaggerated kings even prostrated themselves at Raphael's feet and cried, claiming that they had been inspired by God, had seen miracles, and had dreamed of God's grace... In the end, they concluded that Raphael's succession to the throne was truly God's will, and they were willing to follow closely under the banner of Florence as before and be the Lord's most loyal servants.
There were indeed some devout believers among them who devoted their lives to God, and some who did not, but Raphael did not care about that. He comforted them with a friendly face and asked the deacon to take them back to their seats.
While he was talking to the deacon, he noticed a black-robed monk walked quietly but hurriedly across the side aisle to a cardinal and whispered something in his ear. Almost at the same time, two more monks came over and each said something to an archbishop.
No one came to see him.
The young Pope's expression remained unchanged, the smile on his face remained unchanged, but his eyes had turned cold.
The same thing happened in his previous life, but he was still immersed in the anxiety of being crowned Pope and the fear of doing something wrong. His mind was full of how to fulfill his responsibilities as Pope. He was determined to follow the decree and be pious, kind, respectful and tolerant. Although he saw the priests passing messages to the bishops without him, he thought it was just human nature - every archbishop had his own small group in Florence, from bishops to priests to idlers in the church. It was a very normal thing, and he didn't need to get to the bottom of it and dig out every secret in it.
That would be embarrassing for both parties.
So he tolerated their concealment and turned a blind eye to this secret flowing river.
But now he suddenly felt that everything was boring.
He retreated like that, showed tolerance, compassion, love and respect, but all he got in return were empty guards outside the door at night and cold blades. His good deeds were never recorded in history books, so why did he force himself to be a perfect Pope?
"Padre Alfonso, where are you from?"
In the spotlight of everyone's attention, the young Pope suddenly turned his head and called out the name of a black-robed monk.
The monk who was reporting the information to the bishop shuddered all over and was unable to react for a moment. He just called out instinctively: "Holy Father..."
The bishop who was interrupted by the Pope also looked up with a little surprise. He looked very young, with handsome features, long curly hair draped over his shoulders, and wore a purple surplice that symbolized the bishop. He looked as beautiful as an angel in an oil painting.
His iconic deep purple eyes also allowed those present to recognize his identity.
It is hard to say anything else, but the young bishop must have a surname related to "Portia".
"Holy Father, I..." Alfonso walked to the Pope's throne, hesitating whether to speak or not. Raphael stared at him and tolerantly changed the subject. "The blessing ceremony is about to begin. Are you willing to follow me?"
Accompanying the Pope during the blessing was a great honor. The lowly monk had never thought that he could receive such an honor. He immediately threw everything behind his mind and said with red cheeks in excitement: "Yes, Holy Father, I do!"
Raphael smiled at him, stood up as the music became more and more majestic, bent over heavily, and walked towards the terrace of the Cathedral of the Holy Thorn.
The author has something to say:
Ah, I don't know if you have made it clear. Sangxia is both a Roman princess and an Assyrian Grand Duchess. Her mother is both a Roman queen and an Assyrian queen. She is the product of a marriage.
The female character in this article is one of my favorites, I hope you like her too!
See you tomorrow, babies!
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