"Where are you taking ?"
Despite the full-body aches and even a slight fever, Horn still maintained a certain level of sanity.
After all the tornt during this ti, he hadn’t made much progress in other skills, but he had made significant improvent in staying calm.
"Master Saint Grandson Pope, we’re going to have a eting." A sharp-nosed man forced a smile while leading the way and explaining.
"I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself, I am your Attendant Officer, Grampwen."
"A eting, what kind of eting?" Horn coughed and asked in a hoarse voice.
"You’ll know when we get there."
And so, Horn was sandwiched between two burly n, his feet barely touching the ground as they moved through the stone corridors of the monastery, the rose garden and vineyard, climbing the spiral staircase, arriving at the gatehouse of the Gulag Monastery’s courtyard walls.
At that mont, a small makeshift shelter had been erected on the gatehouse with a wooden fra.
The shelter was surrounded by white cloth on all sides but open at the top, allowing the gray daylight to illuminate everyone’s face at the scene.
In the middle of the shelter was a round table with a fire basin placed on it.
In the middle of this autumn, what was the purpose of having a fire basin?
There were about ten people here, but they were clearly divided into two factions.
One faction was led by a red-bearded man; most of them looked fierce and were wearing crumpled and dirty noble attires.
The other faction was led by a middle-aged man in a leather cloak; Horn had seen him earlier and rembered his na as Madlan.
He had only three or five people behind him, mostly dressed in cleanly laundered linen robes.
"Having a eting here?" Horn asked doubtfully.
"Welco, Your Highness Saint’s Grandson, please allow to introduce myself — I am your loyal servant, Tommy Model."
With a standard hand-over-heart salute, Tommy flashed a set of big white teeth: "The accommodations are simple, and it’s my fault for making you endure them."
"Cough cough, I’m unwell and can’t bear the chill, if there’s anything to discuss, let’s do it quickly," Horn feigned a cough and displayed a weak posture.
"As you wish, sir." Tommy smiled as he stepped forward, supported Horn to sit down by the fire basin, and stood by Horn’s side.
"Today, I’ve called everyone here to witness sothing — the election of a Pope."
"Cough cough cough." Horn almost jumped out of his seat, election of the Pope, how can this small group of people elect a Pope? What boldness?
A surge of unfounded panic climbed to Horn’s forehead, and a lot of cold sweat seeped out on his forehead.
"You might ask, isn’t our Pope Johnny VIII, although old, still doing fine? Why elect a Pope?" Chervis continued, then shifted his attention to Grampwen, "Do you know why?"
Swallowing hard, Grampwen had no choice but to follow the script and loudly declared: "Because the Holy Father saw that the Pope was incompetent and sent a flood as a warning, otherwise, why would His Highness Saint’s Grandson descend to the world? And during a flood?
So, I propose, according to the ancient Church electoral laws and the laws ntioned in the Gospel that God’s elect should choose the Shepherd, for us to elect a new Pope."
"And who should this person be?" Tommy chid in synchronously.
"I propose that our chosen one, the Eye of God, the great and noble His Highness Saint’s Grandson, Horn, take the position."
"What?" Initially, Madlan was still confused, but now he fully understood the intention of this group.
They actually want to elect a Pope themselves?
"That seems a bit unorthodox, doesn’t it?" Madlan quickly stepped up and whispered.
Tommy openly stated: "We must do what is necessary in urgent tis. Besides, didn’t your teacher Juanuo say that the people of Thousand River Valley should govern themselves, have the restrictions on them lifted, and that they should be able to beco an Archbishop?
We’re now directly appointing a Pope from the Thousand River Valley, isn’t that a huge support for your teacher?"
Madlan, not being articulate, was left speechless by Tommy’s retort and could only stand there dumbfounded.
"No way, even though I am the Holy Grandson, I am guilty, how can I beco Pope?"
"Becoming a Pope ans bearing everyone’s sins; as the Holy Grandson, you’re supposed to be immune to all ailnts. The fact that you’re so ill now shows you’re bearing our diseases?"
"No, no, no..." Horn sat there, waving his hand frantically, "I’m mortal, just got sick myself."
What’s going on here? Pope? Are you crazy?
Does being the chosen one an you have to beco Pope? Isn’t the intent for the chosen one to rise step by step within the church, eventually becoming Pope?
Do people accept a Pope you select on your own?
"Co to think of it, the title of Chosen Saint Sun Pope seems a bit long, should we change to simply ’Emperor’?"
"No way!" Horn imdiately objected.
"Since His Highness Saint’s Grandson Pope says we can’t use ’Emperor,’ let’s go with his opinion and call it Pope then!"
"That’s not what I ant..."
Before Horn could finish, he heard Chervis shouting from behind: "It’s getting chilly, why is His Highness Saint’s Grandson Pope still wearing pajamas, co, dress him up."
Horn suddenly felt a weight on his shoulders, and a white robe with crooked gold stitching around the collar and cuffs was draped over him.
Despite the shabby fabric and patterns, Horn imdiately recognized it was modeled after the Pope’s Holy Robe.
He had seen it in holy images and frescoes.
"You, you all mustn’t harm !"
Horn was shocked and quickly twisted his body, trying to shrug off the white robe.
But again, the two young n clamped him from each side, making the robe seem glued to him, impossible to shake off.
"The Holy Father is unwell, probably caught a chill in the head, quickly put a hat on His Holiness!"
The next second, Horn’s vision went dark as a heavy hat was placed on his head, and simultaneously, the two n released their grip.
Horn did not expect them to let go, and when his feet touched the ground, he almost fell.
Fortunately, soone unknown handed him a staff to stabilize himself and prevent a fall.
Behind him, Chervis tossed white straw into the fire basin, and wisps of white smoke rose up.
Seeing the white smoke, the bell tower nearby imdiately began to chi, capturing the attention of the peasants who had already gathered before the gatehouse.
Tommy deftly pulled open the white cloth surrounding the shelter, concluding the series of quick moves.
"Look, it’s white smoke, the new Pope has been elected."
"Look there, wearing a golden crown, clad in the white Holy Robe, and carrying the Pope’s Holy Staff, is that not our Pope?"
"Rejoice, townsfolk, the Chosen Pope of Thousand River Valley has erged!" Tommy stood on the wall of the monastery’s courtyard and loudly proclaid.
"Hooray!" The refugees below, imdiately led by a few plants, began to cheer.
"Hail! Hail! Hail!"
Hearing the cheers and seeing the exuberant townsfolk, Horn almost fell off the gatehouse.
At this point, regardless of his calm state, he couldn’t stay composed.
What on earth are you bugs doing? What kind of Secret Faction is this? You’re harmful, you Secret Faction!
Now Horn understood that among this group, only the three leaders had clear minds; the rest were mostly not normal.
These few were likely making him the scapegoat!
The townsfolk, deceived by the Church’s foolhardy policies and the Secret Faction’s superstitions, were either mad or foolish.
Beco Pope? And be the Pope?
If Horn commanded an iron-blooded army along with millions of people, with his insight and ability, what harm would pretending to be Pope bring?
The Pope is for the strong in arms to be in charge.
But now, they only had five or six hundred people, with two or three hundred healthy n, lacking weapons, logistics, and manpower.
Let’s not ntion others, but with these numbers and calling oneself Pope...?
The High Castle Archbishop would be overjoyed, thinking of the enormous credit!
What are you all doing? What kind of Secret Faction are you? You guys are terribly harmful!
Now Horn understood that these few were highly likely using him as a scapegoat!
The remaining peasants, misled by the Church, were a frivolous group!
Pope, they must be crazy!
Does a chosen one have to beco a Pope? Wasn’t the original idea for a chosen one to rise step by step within the church, eventually becoming Pope?
The Pope you’ve appointed, will others accept that?
"Co to think of it, wouldn’t it be too much to call a Chosen Saint Pope an Emperor instead?"
"No, absolutely not!" Horn imdiately objected.
"Well, if His Highness Saint’s Grandson says we can’t call him Emperor, then let’s go with what His Highness Saint’s Grandson suggests, and just call him the Pope!"
"That’s not what I ant..."
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