Chapter 49 Jadeite Gem (20)
◎Celebrate◎
Leshet finally managed to take care of the entire Papal States before Roman's invitation letter arrived in Florence.
The diligent and conscientious Knight Commander led more than 2,100 survivors back to Florence. There were a total of 3,500 of them before they left the holy city. Those who died on the battlefield were carefully buried by their comrades, and a cemetery was built nearby. All they brought back was a small wooden plaque - a plaque made of strong and heavy ironwood, one finger long and half a finger wide, engraved with the carrier's name, title, superior and team to prove his identity.
The soldiers joked that this thing looked like a dog tag that noble lords made for their dogs, but everyone hung the dog tag neatly around their necks.
If they were unfortunately killed by artillery fire, with their faces disfigured or their limbs separated, at least this dog tag could prove their identity.
More than a thousand "dog tags" returned to Florence with the army. They will be returned to the families of the fallen soldiers. The families can use them to go to the Papal Palace regularly to receive pensions and obtain the benefits they deserve.
When they saw the iconic towering bell tower of the Holy Thorn Cathedral in the distance, all the soldiers could not help but raise their hands and cheer. They shouted and screamed wildly, hugged and kissed their comrades on the face, and expressed their joy incoherently.
Finally I survived those horrific battlefields of flesh and blood, and finally returned to my own
home.
Leshert waited patiently for their celebration. He rode on his horse, gazing at the gray walls of Florence from afar. A thin mist shrouded the sky above Florence like a veil. The sun shone through the clouds, and under the Tyndall effect, beams of distinct golden light bloomed. Most of the buildings in the holy city were white, with marble as their exterior walls. When the churches stood high in the air with their wings of thorns, countless white doves circled around them. The city was filled with the faint singing of the choir children. The tender, pure, and high-pitched singing floated up to the sky, like a ballad calling for angels in a fairy tale.
This is the embodiment of holy hope and the embodiment of happiness on earth. God places His throne on a barren mountain and tells all pilgrims who come here to make the pilgrimage: I will build my city here to symbolize that my flag is flying in the world. Only the most pious people can enter here to enjoy peace and be blessed with my well-being.
Thus, within one day, the holy city appeared in the vast wilderness. This snow-white city had an indescribable beauty. The churches in the city echoed with the ethereal bells all year round. Amid the solemn bells, pure children sang poems of blessing and praised all the virtues in the world. Everyone could find peace of mind here and enjoy eternal happiness and harmony.
This is the place that Leshert vowed to protect with everything. No matter how many times he saw it, he was intoxicated by its beauty, and willingly surrendered at its feet, offering it his most steadfast loyalty and faith.
A majestic trumpet sounded, and the bells of the Cathedral of the Holy Thorn broke through the vague singing. The circling white doves were frightened and scattered like lily petals flying in the air, fluttering their snow-like wings and rushing towards the clouds embraced by the sun. The solemn and vast bells spread out in circles in the transparent air, making the whole Florence silent in this magnificent sound that seemed to come from God.
Lesherte understood something instantly. The usually reserved Knight Commander drew out the long sword from his waist and raised it high above his head, saying loudly: "My brothers! Florence is waiting for us! Our families are welcoming us!"
The overwhelming cheers like thunder resounded throughout the mountains and forests, and the loud noise even shook the ground. They cheered, sang, and ran towards their hometown under the leadership of the knight captain in the front.
The triumphal ceremony held in the Papal Palace was extremely grand, it was like another carnival celebration, the aroma of wine soaked the whole city in intoxication, hot bread was constantly coming out of the oven and piled on long iron plates, stews with cream, hams with golden fat, sizzling roasts, crispy scones smeared with spices... countless delicacies were spread out in the Square of Miracles, which was no less spectacular than Raphael's coronation ceremony - Lesherte's expedition brought back the wealth accumulated by the lords for several lifetimes for Raphael, the mountains of gold and silver were listed in wooden boxes, and the black-robed monks transported them in carriages in the dead of night, from the beginning of the war until the entire Papal State was pacified, at least twenty carriages were needed every day.
The warehouses of the Papal Palace were filled to the brim. Except for Julius, who was responsible for the inventory and final statistics, and Raphael, who listened to the report, no one knew how much wealth they had obtained in this legal looting.
To put it loosely, that was enough for Raphael to hold coronations every day for twenty years without using up the amount.
Although the bishops had some speculations about this, no one was foolish enough to bring this issue up for discussion. When they saw the Pope now, they would only bend their waists deeper, lower their heads deeply, and use all their body language to express their respect and...fear for His Majesty.
They feared the embodiment of Florence, no doubt about it.
Before the soldiers could take off their armor, they were dragged into the celebration by the joyous crowd. Orchestras and circuses paraded through the city in open carriages. The crowds surrounding the floats were like undulating waves. Streamers were flying everywhere. Splashing butterbeer formed wet splashes on the ground. Bright flowers fell from the brims of women's hats and chests, and were trampled into fragrant floral mud by leather boots.
The members of the Florence Security Team were wearing uniforms to maintain order. Although they were holding muskets and long rifles, they all had smiles on their faces and swayed their bodies to the music. Occasionally, passers-by would stuff a flower or a glass of beer into their hands. Their faces were flushed with drunkenness, and their expressions showed comfortable happiness.
The light happiness was like countless bubbles, holding up Florence and floating it up slowly. In these bubbles shining with intoxicating brilliance, the whole city became a staggering drunkard.
Raphael was overlooking this seething, elusive, and colorful joy.
He was standing on the bell tower of the Cathedral of the Holy Thorn. This magnificent building, which was built several centuries ago, has become a landmark of Florence after many revisions by the Holy See. The top of this famous tower-style bell tower is hollowed out on all four sides and supported by slender and exquisite sword-shaped columns. Stone carved thorns and lilies are entwined on the slender Roman columns of varying lengths. Cute naked little angels are standing on lily petals with one foot, holding a harp, flute or trumpet in their hands, looking naive. The monarch of faith of Florence is standing next to a slender column, silently looking at the foam-like joy under his feet.
There was no expression on the Pope's face. He showed neither the joy of winning the war nor the excitement of gaining great wealth. It was as if he was far away from all the glitz and noise, standing alone and coldly away from everything, watching these things that had nothing to do with him.
The footsteps came from far away.
A bony hand held a heavy ermine cloak, which was inlaid with ribbons and diamonds, and draped over the Pope's shoulders. The cloak was embossed with black silk thread in a diamond pattern, and each corner had a carefully selected gem of similar size.
The thick cloak immediately blocked out the cool air from the top of the bell tower. The soft ermine skin rubbed against the skin on his neck, making him feel numb. Raphael couldn't help but tilt his head.
He subconsciously rubbed the fur with the side of his face, showing a bit of childishness that was inconsistent with his age and identity, which made the person behind him smile slightly. The laughter was very low, but it did not escape Raphael's ears.
The young Pope sighed and said, "I thought you should accept the flowers and applause with your soldiers and enjoy the love and respect that the whole of Florence has given you, instead of laughing at an innocent poor man here."
The handsome knight commander with blond hair and blue eyes maintained a polite smile: "Please allow me to correct one fact. Florence's love and respect will always be dedicated to you only."
Raphael sighed, "They all said that Knight Leshert possessed the virtues of integrity, honesty, and never cheating. Why didn't they tell me that the Knight Commander also had a talent for sweet talk?"
"So, did my clumsy sweet words make you feel even a little bit of joy worth smiling about?" Leshert asked softly, his tone seemed to contain no excessive emotion, but to Raphael, who could analyze people with pie charts, the uneasy concern in his voice was almost strong enough to flow out, burning Raphael's sensitive heart like boiling magma.
He couldn't stand this, Raphael thought silently, he couldn't stand... this.
He could gladly accept temptation, vigilance, pain and hurt, he could accept Ferrante's distorted beliefs, he could accept Julius's considered love, but he could no longer face sincere care so calmly, especially when such care came from an absolutely bright person. This would make him feel particularly... particularly despicable.
He didn't know how to describe the feeling, but his instinct was telling him to stay away.
Leshter can care for everyone so straightforwardly and give his tenderness equally to everyone in need, but Raphael has to be wary of all the kindness coming towards him, distinguish every element in it, and find out those obscure things in order to gain a tiny sense of security.
This may be a mockery of the fact that he was once defenseless and died without a burial place.
God took away his ability to openly accept love.
But it sounded hypocritical and pathetic to say this, and Raphael would never allow himself to show even the slightest bit of vulnerability.
Raphael grabbed the cloak strap on his shoulder with one hand and tied a knot. "It sounds very nice. So back to the question, why didn't you attend the celebration? You know, I invested more than 7,000 gold florins for this celebration. You can't let my money go to waste. Although the Pope's Palace is much more well-off now, I am still a pauper in essence."
There was a cordial smile in Raphael's voice. If the Pope joked with someone in such an approachable tone, no matter who that person was, he would be so grateful that he would faint.
But he was facing Leshert. The Knight Commander himself was frank and transparent, and did not like meaningless aristocratic social interactions, but this did not mean that he had no insight into other people's emotions. On the contrary, perhaps it was precisely because he was not keen on those superficial things that he had the purity to see through other people's disguises.
"You are unhappy." The Knight Commander said in a straightforward statement.
The blond man frowned, looking somewhat confused and at a loss. The strength he had shown on the battlefield had completely disappeared from him. Facing a weak pope, he seemed to have encountered a huge problem that he was helpless against. This problem could not be overcome by violence, but he was unwilling to let it go simply. "You don't have to lie to me."
Leshert was somewhat helpless: "I swear to be loyal to you wholeheartedly and give you everything I have. You can trust me and don't have to hide your emotions in front of me."
He tried to express what he meant, but such a complex meaning was difficult to explain in simple language, so the invincible knight showed a conflicted expression.
Under the transparent and clear moonlight, his emerald eyes were like the mist in a damp forest that had finally dissipated. The clear green color was brighter and more beautiful than gems, so moving that it was heartbreaking.
"Well, if you want to know," seeing that the Pope remained silent, the Knight Commander scratched his hair and forcibly changed the subject, "it's very lively outside, but no matter where I go, as long as I am recognized, it will cause... well, a commotion. I don't want to disturb their celebration. Then I found out that you didn't attend the banquet at the Papal Palace. Monsignor Portia is hosting the banquet for you - I have to say, he is really a very good diplomat."
The Knight Commander sincerely praised Julius.
Raphael looked at him, his tense face suddenly breaking: "Thank you for your compliment, but I don't think Julius will be very happy with your compliment."
Lesherte showed that confused look again: "What? He doesn't like others praising him?"
Raphael laughed: "No, I mean... no, you don't have to know these boring things."
"I want to know," the blond man said suddenly, looking at the Pope's smile, "I want to know - these things, if I am qualified."
"...Oh, of course." His seriousness caught Raphael off guard for a moment. The young Pope slightly widened his lavender eyes. For a moment he didn't know how to respond to such a sincere and frank person. He was just joking, and no one would persist in asking questions about a joke. However, Leshert was obviously different from others, so he hesitated, not knowing how to explain this somewhat strange question.
"Julius... well, he has a strong desire to win," Raphael tried to choose a more euphemistic word, trying to explain the problem clearly without revealing more of Julius's privacy. "You are well-known in Florence, and the evaluation he gets is completely different."
So it was normal for him to have some inexplicable hostility towards Leshert.
Raphael had never noticed this before, perhaps because he had no intention of rebuilding the Knights Templar in his previous life. As the Knight Commander, Leshert had always lived an ascetic life and rarely appeared in front of the world, so Julius had no chance to express his emotions. But this time, as Leshert's status in Florence became more and more noble, he had more opportunities to deal with Julius in various aspects.
Raphael only vaguely realized this.
This was just a small discovery of his own. Julius did not like meeting Lesherte, and he would often let others do the handover of official business. When the Knight Commander reported to the Pope, he would always see the Secretary-General who suddenly had important matters to meet with His Majesty. Of course, he could not ask Julius frankly about such a vague targeting, so Raphael observed secretly with an inquiring heart.
He didn't mind the conflict between his two capable subordinates. On the contrary, if they had a close relationship like family, he would be worried about it, so this was just right.
With a somewhat dark and cold heart, Raphael watched coldly as Julius hid his well-hidden hostility towards Lesherte.
He admitted that he was a bit bad.
"Okay," Leshert sighed, not knowing what he understood, and said, "There is one thing I'm not sure if Lord Portia already knows. Maybe he hasn't had the chance to tell you yet."
"I have received a letter of intent to join the army from the Palace of Portia. The applicant is Frederick Portia, Duke of Luxembourg."
Raphael admitted that he was stunned when he heard the name, because the effect of the name combined with the context seemed very strange to him.
"Redrick... joined the army? What does that mean?" Raphael was certainly not someone who couldn't understand what was being said. He was just instinctively confirming the authenticity of the matter.
"Oh, I don't quite understand either, so I went to ask him just now," the Knight Commander said frankly, "He said he was very interested in war. Of course, gaining merit on the battlefield is the fastest way."
Raphael was silent for a while, looking at him with an indescribable look: "You...what did you do to him?"
It's no wonder that he suddenly asked such a strange question. In Raphael's impression, Redrick was a mean little monster who was spewing venom in all directions all the time, with himself as the center. He was also very, very stubborn. It was harder to expect him to tell the truth than to kill him. In fact, Raphael always suspected that if he encountered a robber who wanted to kill for money, Redrick would shout about his identity as the Duke of Lucern in front of the robber in order to protect his so-called ridiculous "noble dignity" until the robber was so angry that he chopped off his head.
But such a Redrick actually told Leshert his true thoughts honestly?
It was hard for Raphael not to wonder if the Knight Commander had used some unspeakable method of physical persuasion.
"What? I didn't do anything." Leshert was obviously confused by the question. He replied, "He was very happy when he saw me. I asked him and he told me. I actually think he is a very lovely young man."
Raphael's face wrinkled up like a cat that suddenly bit into a pickle.
No way... This is the reaction of believers seeing gods and worshippers meeting idols that he is very familiar with...
Redrick worships Lesherte?
Raphael's mind moved. Regardless of whether this guess was correct or not, it gave him some new ideas.
The Portia family already has two dukes, one of whom is in charge of the administrative affairs of the Papal Palace and even Florence. If the other one is involved in military power...is this Rederick's own idea or a hint from Julius?
No, Julius was not such an impatient person. Even if he had this idea, he would not express it at this sensitive moment. It was too impatient, too clumsy, and too unlike his method.
Is that what Redrick himself thought? If so...
"Promise him," Raphael made up his mind, raised his eyelids and smiled gently, "Let him be your deputy. I hope he can become a pious and brave man like you."
He believed devoutly in the Pope and fought bravely against Portia.
The author has something to say:
I wrote half of it and then deleted and rewrote it. When there are too many characters, I often forget to bring out the key ones. The silly brother is still somewhat important, so I'll make him a second-tier character [hang up a sign]. I almost forgot about him while writing. In fact, he should have a role during the trial, but I forgot about him after I started writing. Damn it...
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