Chapter 6 Misty Rose (VI)
Injury
Cardinal Dondol's funeral was solemn and low-key. According to his will, all his real estate, including manors and castles, were inherited by his eldest son, Dondol Jr. Half of the 98,000 gold florins in cash was given to the eldest son, and the other half was divided equally among the remaining children. For this, they also paid the Pope a "notarization fee" of 11,000 gold florins.
The Pope's income is very diverse.
The main source of income is naturally the annual donations and taxes of the dioceses in various countries and the income of the church. The rest includes the position retention fees that the clergy pay regularly to Florence, Florence's various taxes, and if the clergy die without a will, all their property will be collected by the Pope's treasury.
However, before his death, Saint Lion VI gave all the cash in the Pope's Necrontry to his relatives and children, leaving Raphael with an empty and debt-ridden Papal Palace. The income of 11,000 gold florins could only barely fill the gap in the Pope's coronation ceremony. There were still countless gaps in the salaries of the Florence Police, the Pope's Guard, and the servants of the Papal Palace.
The oak table was piled with parchment rolls and the gorgeous long-haired carpet covered the entire room. The servants came in quietly and turned the valves. The hissing sound of air flow passed through the pipes buried underground and in the walls. The wicks in the glass covers suddenly lit up, and dozens of wall lamps emitted orange light one after another. The light refracted through the gems on the lampshades and enveloped the study in a dazzling light.
The Pope behind the desk had a beauty more dazzling than the light. He had taken off the gorgeous crown he wore when presiding over the funeral during the day, and was only wearing a simple white robe, with an ermine blanket draped over his knees. He held a feather pen in his left hand, and his right hand was pressed under the blanket, with his brows slightly furrowed.
The long golden hair that had just been washed was not yet dry and was tied behind the head with a golden ring. The moisture soaked the thin clothes on the shoulders. Raphael did not notice this and held the pen to leave his signature on the parchment.
At the beginning of his reign, there were holes everywhere that needed to be filled by him. St. Lion VI was very ruthless. All the Pope's disposable assets were given to his relatives in various ways. In fact, this was not surprising.
Most popes will try their best to gain benefits for themselves. Creating more taxes, establishing new dioceses, canonizing new bishops, etc. are all good ways to make money. Of course, they will not kindly give this money to their successors. Before being called by the Lord, every pope will plunder the papal treasury clean.
Raphael did not comment on this. He was very clear about the virtues of Lion VI. This man who was pushed onto the throne of Saint Leah in order to balance all parties during the chaotic times was old and suffered from chronic diseases. He was greedy and mediocre. No one could expect him to do anything earth-shattering. He was just a mascot to take up a position, and it was normal for him to get some benefits for himself before he died.
In his previous life, Ryan VI also only left him an empty treasury. Apart from the holy relics and Vatican jewels that could not be sold, Ryan VI almost looted the Papal Palace. His legacy was a pile of bills signed by the Pope.
But to be honest, despite being burdened with such a heavy debt as soon as he took office, Raphael did not really worry about money. These debts were soon offset by his secretary general, and the Papal Palace returned to a wealthy life in a very short time.
His secretary general…Julius Portia.
The pen in Raphael's hand was suspended above the parchment, with a drop of ink hanging on the tip of the pen, about to fall.
His eyes subconsciously turned to the drawer at hand. At the top of the drawer was a letter of appointment, appointing Julius Portia as the Secretary General of the Papal Palace during the reign of Emperor Sistine I.
The signature space below was blank. He had drafted the letter of appointment the night before his coronation, before he was reborn. As for the signature...
When he wrote this letter of commission, he had already thought about it. After he was crowned, he would sign this letter of commission as soon as possible to express his gratitude to his mentor as Pope Sistine I. However...
Raphael fell into long contemplation.
It is undeniable that Julius has no disqualifications as the Pope's Secretary General. It is better to say that he is a perfect Secretary General. Florence is thriving in his hands. Raphael does not need to worry about anything. Julius can always solve all problems in the most appropriate way. Raphael only needs to do what he likes according to his own wishes.
No one could refuse Julius.
Even if he could do it all over again, Raphael didn't think anyone could replace Julius and stand behind him.
But he still hesitated.
There are fourteen cities in the territory of the Papal States. After centuries of rise and fall, the only city that the Pope can firmly control is Florence, where the Papal Palace is located. The other thirteen cities have their own lords and families. Portia, who made his fortune in banking, is the lord of the Rhine. He controls the cash flow of most of the continent through the Portia Bank. The florin, the currency of the Papal States, is issued by the Portia Bank. Such terrible control makes Portia the leader of the thirteen lords.
This also made them a major concern for successive popes.
Every ambitious Pope wants a complete Papal State that belongs entirely to him, but no matter how the thirteen lords confront each other in private, they always show amazing consistency when facing the Pope.
He had never cared about this before. Julius was very good at handling the relationship between the Pope and the lords very harmoniously, and Raphael himself was not focused on these struggles, so they had always lived in peace.
But maybe... this kind of peaceful coexistence is just his wishful thinking?
The young Pope lowered his eyes, his lavender pupils staring gloomily at the parchment. His death was a mystery, and after careful consideration, he discovered that it seemed as if there were enemies everywhere around him.
The carved wooden door was gently pushed open, and the moonlight pulled a shadow of a person on the ground. The light in the room encountered a change in air flow, and the flame jumped for a moment, instantly making him fall into that horrible nightmare involuntarily.
The unguarded bedroom, the door that was casually pushed open, the flickering candlelight, and the black figure approaching him who was unable to resist——
"who?!"
His reaction was so big that it was a bit out of control. The person who came in didn't expect him to be so angry. He paused and took off his hood: "It's me."
Raphael stared at him and struggled in fear for two seconds before he could see the other person's face clearly.
Long iron-gray hair, thin dark red lips, silver-rimmed glasses, and a thin body.
Julius Portia.
Raphael's pupils shrank and he glanced quickly outside the door. The members of the Pope's Guard who were guarding there were a little at a loss. They had obviously tried hard but failed to stop the Duke of Rhine.
Raphael calmed down, signaled the guard to close the door, and looked at Julius across the large oak table: "I have not received your audience document."
Julius seemed to have returned to his own home. He naturally untied his thin cloak with one hand and casually draped it over the back of the chair. Raphael noticed that he was holding something in his right hand. After a brief moment of confusion, he immediately understood what it was. After realizing this, his whole body tensed up.
Julius walked towards him, and as he got closer, Raphael's resistance became more and more obvious. When Julius knelt on one knee beside him, this resistance reached its peak, almost making him stand up and leave.
However, the head of the Portia family simply stretched out his hand and pressed on his right leg, just like grabbing the neck of a kitten, suppressing this overly beautiful but rebellious golden cat.
"You..." Raphael wanted to speak, but the second half was forced to swallow into his throat and turned into an unclear hum.
“You’re running?” Julius’ tone seemed a little cold, and his deep purple eyes did not contain any smile behind the lenses.
Julius forcibly lifted the blanket from Raphael's knees and pulled open the Pope's robe, revealing a pair of legs that were no different from those of ordinary people but were extremely pale.
Raphael's face turned pale as he watched Julius take out a small sheepskin water bag from the cloth bag and carefully cover his right knee.
After standing for a whole day to officiate at the funeral, his right leg was already numb and insensitive. After applying hot water for a while, the dense and intense tingling rushed up from the nerve endings, which was more torturous than simple pain. Raphael almost instinctively wanted to step back to avoid Julius' hand: "I don't need it--"
Julius held his ankles and pressed the sheepskin bag against his legs. He didn't seem to care about Raphael's rejection at all. After a while, he raised his eyelids and looked at Raphael with his deep purple eyes: "No need? Then why didn't you leave when I approached? You can't move."
"I have taught you that being stubborn is the most foolish thing to do. It will not bring you any benefits. And I..." The head of Portia softened his cold and stiff tone and said softly to his student, "You can always trust me, Rafa."
This sentence seemed to remove all of Raphael's resistance. Julius stretched out his hand and pressed the muscles according to a certain pattern. The skin under his hand was cold and soft, without a trace of healthy blood. Raphael looked down at him. The patriarch of Portia rubbed his right leg patiently and skillfully. Who could have imagined this scene?
Would the high and mighty Lord of Portia, Duke of the Rhine, actually do something that a humble servant would do, and act as if he had long been accustomed to it?
Raphael endured the waves of numbness and pain in his legs. He was very familiar with this scene. In order to enter the Florence Seminary, he voluntarily broke his injured leg and re-set it. The doctor invited by Vitalian III for him was from the Portia family. Out of concern for his blood relative, Julius also followed the doctor to visit him.
So when did Julius start to squat in front of him and spend half an hour patiently and carefully massaging his right leg that was always aching? He found that he really couldn't remember.
The religious reform presided over by Vitalian III touched the interests of too many people. After he was assassinated, Raphael, who had done many things for him, was driven to the country parish. The fact that he was not excommunicated and executed on the spot was the result of multi-party bargaining. All the parish income in his hands was taken away, and he was exiled alone to the desolate and barren Castel Cantrera, dragging his injured body and worrying about tomorrow's life.
At that time... only Julius came to visit him from time to time.
Raphael was an exiled and feared sinner of the "evil reform". He was not allowed to receive any guests "in order to avoid spreading his evil ideas to innocent lambs". He was imprisoned in Castel Cantrera and could only sit on a high watchtower and quietly look in the direction of Florence every day.
The guards swallowed up all the salary, medicine and food that he was entitled to. Julius, with the surname "Portia", could not visit him openly, so he could only sneak up through the side door of the castle after sunset.
The guard was sleeping soundly with a bottle of wine in his arms. Raphael leaned against the wind-eroded wall, watching the distinguished patriarch of Portia climbing the wall in a panic. He felt worried but couldn't help laughing.
Thinking about it this way, even though life was hard and he only had water and hard bread every day, that was actually the happiest time of his life.
Julius said that he was asked by Vitalian III to take care of him. Although the two cousins had a big age gap, their relationship was surprisingly good. Taking care of the orphan of his deceased cousin was just a piece of cake for him.
But Raphael never thought about why Julius had to come in person every time for such a simple matter that could be entrusted to the servants.
In the desolate and dilapidated castle, for countless nights, the patriarch of Portia sat cross-legged on the ground, and in the faint candlelight in the room, patiently massaged his legs that were cold from the night wind. They talked about astronomy and geography, the situation in Florence, the struggle between Roman and Calais, the starry poems, and also about a bird that happened to pass by during the day.
It was strange, because that period should have been the loneliest time for him, but he never felt lonely.
He just felt extremely happy, much happier than fighting for power beside his father, and much happier than living in the luxurious and wealthy palace in Florence.
He never thought that Julius was only hypocritical towards him. What kind of hypocritical person would have to consistently visit him, a prisoner with a bleak future, for four whole years? It was precisely because of this long time together that he trusted Julius so much in the future, even though the Portia family
The clan was ambitious, and he had never been afraid of Julius.
He was his companion, mentor, guide, his savior, and the only glimmer of light in his dark sky.
However, when I think back to that time now, even though only six years have passed in my memory, it seems like a lifetime ago.
Julius didn't know what he was thinking. The skin under his palm gradually regained its warmth, and he spoke: "You have been standing for so long during the day, why don't you find a servant to massage you? If you are worried, I can transfer the doctor to you."
Raphael did not respond, and was absent-minded for a while, until Julius looked up at him helplessly: "Why are you still so absent-minded?"
Raphael looked into the familiar pair of deep purple eyes. An impulse surged in his heart, forcing him to ask sharp questions about that silent and bloody night, but he controlled himself. Julius knew nothing now, and this was just his guess.
Julius keenly noticed Raphael's hesitation and said gently, "What do you want to ask?"
The tone was too familiar. They had talked about everything under the dim light countless times. Facing Raphael's endless questions, Julius was never impatient. Even if the questions were innocent and straightforward, he would encourage Raphael to ask them and was willing to give good answers.
So much so that when Raphael heard this familiar question, he couldn't help himself.
He spoke slowly, word by word, with the blood rushing in his veins and the whistling cold air in his memory, and asked softly on behalf of the lonely soul with no one to rescue him: "Under what circumstances would you kill me?"
Julius’ hand paused, and a tense atmosphere spread between the two of them.
The author has something to say:
Raphael's first half of life was really miserable. He was a beautiful, strong and miserable man...
But now it's his turn to rise!
Julius was also genuinely kind to Raphael, really, after all, Raphael was so good, who could not love him [laughing].
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