Chapter 75: Golden Ouroboros (Twenty-three)
◎The Battle That Never Ended◎
The heavy rain in Florence lasted for eight days. After the rain stopped, the reconstruction activities organized by the Vatican began vigorously. The dilapidated old buildings were all demolished and rebuilt, the road surface was dug up, and the pipes from the ancient Roman period saw the light of day again. Scholars rolled up their trousers and trudged through the puddles, cursing the poor municipal planning while writing and drawing frantically on the drawings, and trying to secretly take a section of water pipe home for collection - this is a relic from the ancient Roman period! All historians will be interested in this!
After the third battle for the water pipe, the knights sent by the Pope to protect the scholars finally lost their patience. They pointed to the endless underground thing that was made of heavy sandstone, iron filings and clay and could not be embraced by an adult's arms and said, "Gentlemen, before you fight over this stinky thing, have you ever thought about how to carry it home?"
Of course, the knight who said this ended up taking on the heaviest transportation tasks, and his companions refused to talk to this stupid guy and spat at him a few times.
In addition, the free medical consultation activities in the lower town were also carried out with the strong support of the Holy See. Although the process was bumpy and there were several fights and medical disputes, under Raphael's almost tough attitude and the continuous pressure on the knights of the medical team, the free medical consultation activities were finally successfully concluded after a month and a half. Most of the people accepted the consultations of the female doctors and recognized their medical skills - this was undoubtedly a great encouragement to the female doctors.
So half a month after the free clinic ended, Astasiania, as the captain of the medical team, submitted an application to the Pope again, requesting to leave Florence and provide free clinics in other cities throughout the Papal States.
Raphael did not agree immediately.
The young Pope read the short application letter over and over again. As Astasia had not received formal education in rhetoric and linguistics, the application was written in a crude and rude manner. However, compared to the first time he met the woman, the letter had shown his sincerity as much as possible. ↑
Raphael leaned back on the soft cushions, sighed deeply, put the application on the table with his backhand, and asked softly, "Should I agree?"
The spacious and luxurious room was overly quiet, with only the ticking of the grandfather clock. It seemed as if the entire room was only echoing with his breathing. However, he knew that the person he trusted the most, whom he even gave his life to, was hiding in the shadows not far behind him, and that person must be listening to him carefully.
No matter when, as long as he opens his mouth, the other party will never miss a single syllable of what he says.
But he didn't need an answer.
The other party was obviously aware of this, so after a long silence, Raphael silently picked up the pen and signed his name on the back of the overly rough application form. At the same time, he took off the ring on his hand and printed the Pope's personal seal on the paper.
A hand reached out from the shadows at the right time, holding a piece of soft snow-white cotton cloth. It gently wrapped the Pope's finger and wiped the ring stained with ink clean.
"Ferrante, send some of the better fighters to go with them. I hope they can return to Florence unscathed and without a single one missing."
The young man in the shadows bowed his head to the Pope and accepted the order silently.
When he exited the room through the secret passage, Julius happened to walk in from the main door. It was obviously impossible for the Secretary-General to see any trace of the mysterious young man, but some strange sixth sense made him pause at the door and quickly look around.
Of course, nothing was found.
"According to the latest war report from Assyria, the queen re-established the Sargon dynasty in the south with the capital as the center. However, due to some reasons, the war between her and the north has reached a stalemate. It is impossible for Assyria to restore peace in a short period of time. My people have found many people stirring up trouble in Assyria. Some of them are from the Duvisi Federation, some from Donon, and even from Pombarai and Sandong. Of course, most of them are from Galai."
When saying the last sentence, neither Julius nor Raphael showed any expression of surprise or anger. Apparently, Calais's sneaky act of backstabbing his ally was not something worth being surprised about to them.
Marriage is one thing, but taking advantage of the war zone to gain benefits is a more tangible benefit, and no one will miss these benefits.
Even if it was Sang Xia, she would just turn a blind eye if she knew about this. Sometimes they just need to be a little confused like this. A relationship that is too transparent will scare these born political animals. They are better at gaining a sense of security in a tug-of-war struggle.
"In the north of Assyria, the Pilgrim Alliance was established, headed by the high priest. It was a complete religious alliance group with their native belief in Tengri as its core. Most of the people who joined the Pilgrim Alliance were fanatical religious believers. They tried to restore the 'purest belief' and let Assyria return to the 'primitive ancient country blessed by Tengri'. Such propaganda attracted many people, and a large number of refugees began to migrate northward from Sargon in the south." Julius said in a calm tone.
"A complete religious alliance group..." Raphael murmured these words again and again, feeling a fleeting strange emotion, which became stronger as Julius continued to narrate.
A very strange, strong sense of déjà vu—
Raphael suddenly raised his eyes and looked at Julius. They were both overly sensitive and intelligent and saw the same thing in each other's eyes.
"The last similar religious alliance group..." Raphael moved his lips.
Julius smoothly continued what he wanted to say: "It is the current Papal States, my Lord."
Raphael's hands suddenly clenched the solid wood armrests of the chair.
That's right, religion is a very dangerous but useful thing. Fanatical believers can do all the impossible things in the world. They can sacrifice everything they have, even the lives of their families, for the illusory decrees of God. As the world's largest religious leader, Raphael is extremely aware of its power.
Therefore, when the Pilgrimage Alliance appeared before him, he almost instinctively sensed the huge threat surging from it.
Assyria is an independent land outside the Syracuse Peninsula. It has a large population, vast territory, rich resources, and more importantly, they have their own devout religion. All the popes have dreamed of planting their flags on that land, not only to obtain more abundant population resources, but also because they have long realized that once an independent religious group was born in Assyria, it would be enough to confront the Papal States and Florence.
What every pope had worried about finally turned from a nightmare into reality during Raphael's reign.
In this barbaric, resource-plundering era, there is no such thing as peaceful coexistence. When two equally greedy and ferocious beasts meet, their only choice is to devour each other.
“The Pilgrimage Alliance cannot exist.” Raphael’s voice was very soft, but the coldness in his tone was like a sharp and bloody ice knife.
Whether because of the alliance with Amenra or for the Papal States itself, there cannot be a second religious group with the potential to develop in the world.
He knew that every word he was about to say would be covered in blood in the near future, but he had no other choice.
A tide and a storm surged in the lavender eyes: "In the name of the Pope, send a letter to all kings and lords. The flag that blasphemes the Holy Lord has been raised in the East. To eliminate the unjust and evil organization, the only way is to raise the sword that belongs to the Holy Lord."
Julius understood what he meant in an instant. The head of the Portia family, who was always calm and composed, had a flash of shock in his eyes, and subconsciously objected: "You want to start a holy war?! This is not allowed!"
Raphael stared at the oak tabletop and heard Julius admonishing him in a hurried and low voice: "The popes who launched holy wars in history never had a good ending! Charles VI was hanged in the monastery, Jose I is still reviled until now, and the family of Li En II disappeared for no reason - how great their reputation was at the time, and how miserable their ending was afterwards! Amenra is not at the end of her rope yet. She and the Pilgrimage Alliance are already in a situation of life and death. We just need to wait for her to fight with the Pilgrimage Alliance. When the day comes that the winner is decided, it will not be too late to use this method."
Raphael glanced at him and said, "The best time to destroy an enemy is before he grows up. This is what you taught me, teacher."
He called out that long-lost name, and Julius was stunned for a moment.
This name brought him back for a brief moment to the Florence Seminary, where the sun was dancing on the branches of the Pieris japonica and the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers. The girls wore snow-white dresses and the boys' uniforms were ironed straight, with the badges on their chests reflecting the light. Everything was bright and energetic, and all the love and hate were pure.
At that time, the endless irises had not yet grown in Portia's garden, and the sun god who passed by in his chariot had not yet seen the rose that captivated the gods.
"You know this is the best way." Raphael still looked at Julius steadily.
“Please don’t let your personal feelings influence your judgment,” Raphael said slowly. He was now as cruel and indifferent as an executioner, which made Julius feel terrified. “Reason, judgment, and choice—the family motto of Portia.”
The young Pope seemed to want to smile, but the smile disappeared before it could even unfold.
The sunlight drew a clear line on the scarlet carpet. Julius stood on the bright side, while Raphael behind the table was shrouded in silent shadow.
They were silent for a while at the same time, as if they were thinking a lot, but also as if they were thinking nothing.
Finally, Julius said firmly: "I don't agree."
The Secretary General of the Papal Palace said calmly: "The Secretariat will refuse to issue this decree - of course you can order me to carry it out, and then I will resign as Secretary General of the Papal Palace."
Raphael suddenly raised his eyes, his lavender eyes darkened a little because of anger: "Are you threatening me?"
"Of course not. I would never threaten you," Julius countered calmly, "but I think you need to think carefully. It seems to me that you are the one who is overwhelmed by emotions. You seem to have invested too much emotion in the alliance with Roman and Assyria. Loyalty has never been a virtue of ours."
Raphael's pupils shrank slightly.
Julius no longer looked at him. "Please think about it carefully."
Raphael watched the Secretary-General bow gracefully and leave, then he froze behind his desk like a sculpture. He did not move his stiff legs until the gas lamp in the study was lit on time.
The numbing pain spread up from his knees like needles. Raphael lowered his head, pressed his legs, and let out a painful gasp from his throat, but he quickly bit off the sound and swallowed it into his mouth.
The order was never issued in the end. Apart from the two distinguished figures, no one even knew that a war that could have swept the entire continent was simply prevented in its infancy.
In faraway Assyria, bonfires burned day and night, sparks flew like flowers, soldiers patrolled back and forth with gas lamps, their elongated shadows swayed on the ground, and a little further away, engineering teams worked day and night. They needed to lay railways in the shortest possible time to connect the cities that had surrendered to the queen to prevent them from rebelling again. Steam-powered armor also needed to be transported by railways - no one would use such an expensive weapon of war as a carriage.
Amenra was sitting in a remote little tent. Compared with her previous royal tent, this tent was very simple and crude, and was no different from most of the officers' tents. In fact, it was indeed an officer's tent. After the queen encountered the sixth assassination attempt, she began to randomly choose her resting place for the day. Except for her most trusted cousin Ashur, no one could get the queen's exact location.
The curtain was opened, and Ashur came in with a basin of water and knelt beside the queen: "Your wound has opened again, don't go to the battle tomorrow."
The queen's long knife was placed on the table, the blade flashing a sharp cold light, the snow-white cotton cloth was passed from the shoulders to the chest, and blood stains could be vaguely seen - this was the result of the fifth assassination.
Amenla raised her head. She was now as thin as a piece of dead wood, her skin was tanned, her long hair was braided and tied behind her head, and she had no decorations on her body. Only her pair of blue eyes radiated a brighter light than ever before. Everyone who met her gaze could glimpse the powerful and dazzling soul in them. This great queen, who was enough to leave a glorious page in history, had a strong spirit that surpassed most people in the world.
Ashur used scissors to cut off the blood-stained bandage of the queen. The wound felt a dull pain, but the queen did not show any discomfort and looked at the door calmly. After a long while, she suddenly said, "Ashur, did I do something wrong?"
Ashur paused and glanced at the queen quickly: "You never doubt yourself."
"Yeah, I never doubt any of my decisions."
"Has the night made you sentimental?"
"...Who knows? I've been thinking about the past a lot lately. Maybe it's because I've encountered too many assassins." The queen turned her head, her gem-like blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. "They are all my people, but they are all sincerely against me."
Ashur was silent for a moment, knowing that the queen was thinking of one of the assassins.
The young assassin had blond hair and blue eyes, was thin and looked a little childish. He was the same age as the queen's child. She knew who the queen thought of when she saw him, so she couldn't dodge the dagger at the first time.
Before his head was chopped off by the guards, the young assassin showed an expression of extreme resentment towards the queen. He cursed her at the top of his lungs, using the most vicious words and expressions.
"...Eternal Heaven will abandon you, you will lose your loved one forever, your child will die tragically in extreme pain, your lover will hate you and be hostile to you, you will never see each other again in this life, you will not get what you ask for, and the one you cherish will suffer. Eternal Heaven is my witness! Your love is more dangerous than poison—"
"Oh God, why did you bring this woman full of trouble to Assyria?"
Ashur shuddered when she thought of the vicious curse. The queen noticed her uneasiness and gently placed her hand on her sister's hand as a silent comfort. ∫
"They just don't understand that you are doing them a good deed. A monarch must always look further. The ancient religion cannot lead Assyria forward. Only a more powerful monarch can adapt to this era."
The theocratic political system has made Assyria lag far behind other countries in the Syracuse Peninsula, and the chaos has made Assyria increasingly weak. Amenra is determined to change all this, but the six assassination attempts she encountered were the people's answer to her.
She was like a frail boatman, the hemp rope had cut into her shoulders. The heavy boat was slowly sinking in the water, and she was almost keeping her body parallel to the ground, trying to use her life to drag this huge barge against the current.
"I can't go back anymore."
Finally, the Queen whispered.
"If Changshengtian rejects my prayer, then I will change to another god." A faint will-o'-the-wisp burned in the queen's blue eyes.
Ashur suddenly looked up at the princess and queen he had followed for many years, and for the first time, fear and strangeness appeared in his eyes.
"You...you want to betray Changshengtian?!" She didn't even dare to say this out loud, her voice was as low as a whisper.
Controlling or even suppressing religion is different from a monarch's apostasy.
Ashur tightly grasped the queen's hand. She knew all too well what those fanatics who believed in Eternal Heaven would do. "No, please don't do this... You will die! The whole of Assyria will be your enemy! They will think you betrayed Assyria!"
"Since when did Eternal Heaven become equal to Assyria?" the queen asked calmly.
Her heart was beating fast as well. When she was a girl, she was more pious than anyone else. She deeply loved Assyria, the people and things on this land, and the Eternal Heaven who gave them everything abundantly.
“Assyria owns Tengri, not Tengri owns Assyria,” the queen said. “I will let them remember this and be free to choose to believe or not believe.”
The queen's words were cold, but her expression seemed a little gentle.
Ashur stared at her blankly, his lips moved, and his voice was hoarse: "Is that all?"
The queen looked at her for a while, then raised the corners of her mouth and smiled, with a hint of the cunning playfulness of her teenage years: "Ah, as the queen and mother of Assyria, isn't this the best gift I can give to my children?"
She waved her hand, stopped the topic, and turned to another matter: "Dear cousin, please unfold a new parchment for me. I think it's time for me to make a will."
This is nothing new. In order to prevent accidents and family turmoil, powerful people always have the habit of updating their wills regularly. As a monarch, Amenra certainly pays more attention to this. Her will is updated twice a year.
The parchment was unfolded, and she sat there in silence. Ashur took the pen for Amenra, who was not convenient to hold the pen. After thinking for a while, the queen slowly spoke; "I, Amenra Sargon, the daughter of the great King Zhena and Queen Heshu, am the eighth king of the Assyrian Sargon dynasty appointed by heaven.
My Lord, the will is as follows..."
The author has something to say:
I, Hu Hansan, am finally back! It was so exciting to attend an open class. There were so many teachers that there were more of them than students. My high school teacher was sitting in the first row. I would stutter every time I saw her. I hope I will never have this kind of experience again in my life...
I'm sorry that it took me so long to come back. The plot will progress faster in the future. This volume has been a bit long, and I hope it can be finished in six chapters, so there will be a storm of plot soon... Are you ready, my dears? If you have forgotten the previous article, you can go back and read it again [I know many of you have almost forgotten it] [It’s okay, I don’t care] [Put on sunglasses] [Show a strong smile]
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