Chapter 29 Misty Rose (Twenty-nine)
◎Conspiracy◎
The sound of horse hooves could be heard from the end of the cobblestone street. The main streets of Florence would be lit with gas lamps after nightfall, but this street was obviously not within the main scope of urban planning. Although it was located in the upper town where nobles gathered, it unfortunately did not receive enough light as it connected two main roads.
Most of the few lamps were damaged. There was still a hissing sound of rushing air in the lamp tubes, but the dying light never came on.
A small carriage drove up from the darkness, and the driver drove the horses carefully. Although the carriage was equipped with an expensive and convenient steam system, for some reason, it was not allowed to be started. Perhaps such a quiet and conspiratorial night was not suitable for too noisy sounds. In short, it came quietly to the front of the house.
Two large carved iron gates blocked the carriage's way. The driver stopped the horse and the man guarding the door stepped forward and got close to the window. He was holding a primitive oil lamp in his hand. The glass lampshade was blurred by the oil. With the help of that light, he saw half of a face exposed in the window.
"Okay, honorable sir." The gatekeeper turned back and opened the gate, and with great effort he pulled the heavy iron gate open wide enough for the carriage to enter.
The carriage drove in with a clatter.
There was no light on in the house, which was quite unusual for the extravagant Florentine nobles.
A man in a black robe got off the carriage. He was covered tightly in a black cloak. The hood blocked most of his face, leaving not a single bit of his clothes visible.
He refused the driver's hand, jumped from the carriage, and rushed through the open door with eager and quick steps.
There were already about ten people sitting around a long table in the hall. They all wore hooded robes that covered their faces, and the lights around them were dim and sparse, as if deliberately avoiding their faces.
The scene looked like a secret cult meeting. Anyone who walked in would doubt whether they had entered the wrong place.
The last person to come in stood there for a while, and a person at the end of the long table extended his hand to him: "Please take a seat, sir, we have been waiting for you for a long time."
He pointed to an empty chair next to him.
The man in black hesitated for a while. During that moment, he heard someone sneer, as if mocking him for hesitating even though he had come this far.
Amid the faint laughter, he lowered his head and walked to the chair and sat down.
"Isn't it time to take off these useless disguises?" One of the young men said, tearing off his hooded robe, revealing long fiery red hair and a slightly mean face. He threw the robe to the ground, "This makes me feel like a rat in the gutter."
The people around looked at each other for a while, and the young man crossed his legs: "Don't we know each other? Gentlemen? Ladies?"
As if moved by these words, the others took off their robes one after another.
They were the twelve lords except Portia in the Council of Thirteen. They greeted each other with cold expressions.
"And you, sir?" The red-haired young man turned to look at the last person who had not moved.
The man moved his body, and his eyes seemed to look around at everyone at the table. Finally, he made up his mind and took off his hood.
The moment the black hood fell, everyone's eyes widened in shock. Two nimble lords even jumped up and frantically looked around for ambushes.
"——Trap?" Some people were ready to escape.
"Calm down, gentlemen. This is an unexpected friend, but doesn't this just mean that our plan is likely to succeed?" Old Russo, who was sitting at the head of the long table as steady as a Shar-Pei dog, was also shocked for a moment, but he quickly reacted and patted the table.
It was no wonder that they panicked. The last young man who took off his hood had short light blond hair and purple eyes - he was undoubtedly a descendant of the Portia family. For the people sitting here at this moment, this was undoubtedly the appearance they were most afraid of seeing. §
Kane Portia, in another time and space, he will wear the crown of thorns of Saint Leah in a few years and become the supreme monarch of Florence - of course, this is something only Raphael knows.
He is now just an ordinary archbishop. In other dioceses, he would be given the highest honor. But among the many archbishops in Florence, he is not noticeable at all. Except for having the surname Portia, not many people would pay attention to him.
But that wasn't the case a year ago.
Before the death of Ryan VI, the cardinals and major families of Florence had already fallen into a turbulent struggle. Everyone wanted to raise a monarch of the kingdom of God on earth for their family. Naturally, Portia could not stay out of it. The person they chose was Kane Portia. For this, they had paid enough money to exchange a cardinal's red robe for Kane, who was still the archbishop at the time - they almost succeeded. Ryan VI, who was crazy about making money, did not mind selling one more cardinal's red robe before his death. The papal decrees to be issued had been written and were just waiting to be announced.
At this moment, Julius, the patriarch of Portia, proposed a name that Kane hated.
Rafael Garcia.
Kane cursed this name for countless days and nights, and the hatred in his heart was about to ferment into venom.
He should have been the one sitting on Saint Leah's throne!
He didn't know how Julius convinced the other elders. They easily gave up on Kane, who they had invested a lot of money and energy in, and turned their attention to Raphael - that bastard was not even in Florence at the time! An exiled outcast, a thing ruthlessly expelled from Florence—
How could he deserve such glory and honor!
Every time Kane bowed to the Pope, he felt his heart bleeding.
If he could be given a chance to turn all the mistakes around and get back on the right track, he would be willing to give everything for it.
Even if it means extending an olive branch to Portia's enemies.
"Your Excellency," said Old Russo, with a shrewd light flashing in his eyes that were drooping due to old age, "Just in case, I think you should know why we are gathered here today."
Kane looked at him, his face as pale as a plaster statue. After a while, he nodded and said, "I know who you hate, and I don't mind being your insider. Since François left Florence last year, the control of the Papal Palace has become stricter. You can't get any information from there, right? I can tell you everything I know."
He finished speaking slowly, and the lords exchanged glances with uneasiness and joy, observing the uninvited guest covertly.
"Rather than this, perhaps you should explain how you learned about this secret meeting?" a middle-aged lord asked cautiously.
"I introduced him here." Another female lord took over the question. "I can assure you of Kane's reliability. In fact, don't you want to elect a pope wearing the crown of Saint Leah?"
"But his last name is Portia," someone immediately objected.
"Because his last name is Portia," the female lord answered quickly, as if she had been prepared for this question. "He was originally the candidate that the Portia family was going to push to the position of Pope. There will be no obstacles to his succession to the throne. Even Portia will help him. The only problem is that there is already someone in that position."
Her reasoning almost instantly convinced everyone. A male voice in the corner said gloomily, "Then make that person disappear. Isn't that why we are gathered here today? Damn Sistine I, he has imprisoned us in Florence for almost a year. Do I have to wait to celebrate the tenth anniversary of his accession to the throne?"
"Another question, since His Excellency the Archbishop's surname is Portia, how can we be sure that he will give us sufficiently generous returns in the future instead of selling us out to his beloved family?" The person who spoke completely blocked out the previous person's speech and was still carefully considering Kane's reliability.
Kane raised his head and looked around the long table. His purple eyes revealed a wolf-like ferocious ambition: "Because I have another
Require. ”
His voice lowered unconsciously, as if even he himself was afraid of what he was about to say.
"Kill Julius and let me become the master of Portia. All the losses incurred during the turmoil in Portia - you will do it according to your ability."
He couldn't help shuddering as he said this. Julius's intimidation made him tremble instinctively, but after saying it, he felt unprecedented relief.
Everyone was stunned.
A group of pale-faced people exchanged glances with each other, looking for what they wanted from other people's expressions. After they understood the meaning of Kane's words, everyone's expressions gradually changed, and a smell of fanaticism and greed belonging to wild beasts emanated.
Portia!
What a juicy prey! If they could bite off a piece of meat from its body, it would be enough for them to enjoy endless joy, but before this, they had never had such an idea, because the prey had claws and brains that were more ferocious than the hunters, and they could only crawl obediently under the claws of the ferocious beast.
But now, they have a way to remove the sharp claws and teeth of the ferocious beasts.
"Are you sure that everything that happened during the turmoil in Portia--" Someone approached the table, pressed his upper body towards Kane who was sitting across the table, and repeated as if to confirm.
"I'm sure I will never pursue the matter nor ask for it back." Kane repeated his words expressionlessly.
"Deal!" the man said quickly, as if afraid that Kane would go back on his word the next second.
"Then we should change our plan on how to send the Pope and his loyal secretary to the arms of Saint Leah."
"We have no army, and letters cannot be sent out of Florence," Besancon reiterated their predicament.
Ever since the end of the Feast of Grace last year, Julius had subtly tightened supervision over them. They were unable to leave Florence. Their families could come to visit them, but they were not allowed to leave, and they only had a few guards with them - they were here to participate in the celebration! Who knew the Pope would go to such lengths to trap them?
The lords' armies were also unable to march to Florence, as besieging the holy city was something they absolutely could not do. Originally, they were doing well in their own territories, and even the Pope could not order them to do anything. But now that they had been tricked into coming to Florence, all their advantages were lost - damn Julius Portia! Damn Sistine I!
They negotiated with Julius several times, but the impeccable man remained indifferent to all the conditions they put forward, as if he was determined to trap them to death in Florence. As time went by, they felt more and more disappointed. They had lived in great embarrassment in the past year, and now they could not sit still, especially old Russo. His sons had already started fighting among themselves over who would be in power, and had completely forgotten their old father. One could imagine how angry he was.
The consequences of the absence of the head of the family are serious. Similar situations exist not only in the Russo family. The families of other lords are also not harmonious. They are now anxious to go back. In addition to wanting to save their own lives, the more important thing is to keep their own power.
To these people who have reached the pinnacle of life, losing power is as painful as death. That is why they are not afraid to take risks and hold this secret gathering here.
“We need to create chaos in Florence. It’s like they tricked us into coming here. Only by leaving Florence can we take the initiative.” said the young man with red hair.
"Giovanni is right," his words were agreed upon, "Florence is in the hands of Sistine I and Julius. We will not have any chance. We must make them leave here."
"We need chaos, chaos of epic proportions."
"The fastest way is war." said the female lord.
"Without war," Old Russo drooped his eyelids and rejected the suggestion. "Who should we let attack Florence? The kings are not fools. If there is no sufficient benefit, don't expect them to send out the army. Moreover, doing this will be infamous for thousands of years. Even pagans will not do such a stupid thing. The ignorant believers will tie them all to the stake. This will be a long-lasting catastrophe that will sweep across the entire continent. We can't do this."
Kane also showed dissatisfaction when he heard the word "war". The throne of Saint Leah will belong to him in the future, and he cannot accept that he will be crowned on a ruin, so after old Russo raised his objection, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
The female lord frowned. She had dressed very simply for tonight's meeting. There was no extra jewelry on her dark blue dress. She only had a gold necklace around her neck with a small locket at the end. She stroked the locket with her hand, unable to hide her anxiety.
Her child is still young. Without his mother's protection, he will never be able to survive in the family. No matter what, she must successfully complete this plan.
"Civilian riots?" someone made a new suggestion.
This suggestion is very feasible. If it is impossible to cause unrest from the outside, then muddy the waters inside. Those fools are nothing but idiots with empty heads. Spread some rumors to make them hostile to the Pope and incite them to attack the Papal Palace. Let Sistine I escape from Florence with the members of the Papal Palace, and then the goal can be achieved.
But this time it was the female lord who raised objections. She shook her head and said, "What if the Pope plans to close the Papal Palace and not let anyone out? What if Julius plans to concentrate his forces to defend and counterattack? The protection around them will be very tight, and... do you think they will think that this idea has something to do with us? By then, we will even lose the freedom to sit together like this."
"This doesn't work, and that doesn't work. What should I do?!" The lord, whose suggestion was rejected, pounded the table angrily. The gem on his sleeve hit his hand, and his face twitched in pain.
Old Russo, who was sitting at the head of the group, raised his voice slightly and interrupted his outburst: "Calm down, sir."
Old Russo, whose rise to wealth was filled with blood, sat like a hyena, his thoughts wandering from his early years following his father on a pirate ship, burning, killing and looting, to later walking among the nobles in well-dressed attire. The fragmented memories floated and circled, and finally settled down.
"It's not just war that can cause chaos," Old Russo smiled grimly, his gums still smelling of blood, "but also disease."
"Let them tuck their tails between their legs, abandon this holy city, and run for their lives. We just need to wait and receive the sweet fruits."
The author has something to say:
Time jumping method, jumped one year!
Please give me lots of comments! Lots of comments! No comments I'm dying! I want to chat and play with you!
Basically, everyone who appears in my book is a heart... They are all scheming and cruel, no matter if they are men or women. There is no good person in the absolute sense. If you can't accept this, retreat immediately!
There will be midterm exams at school tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. I will be invigilating and grading the papers, so see you all on Friday!
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