The Reversed Hierophant

Julius thought back to the first time they met, when the boy was barely up to his waist. Now, looking at the young man who stood beside him, even he, who was never one to dwell on the past, couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret over the passing of time.

The child in his memory, who was naturally cold and cunning after being hardened by life, had gradually transformed into this gentle, ethereal man. Since Rafael had returned from exile to Florence, all those sharp edges, that cynicism and ruthlessness, seemed to have been completely stripped away. He adopted the polished manners, the gentle elegance, the aristocratic air and dignified smile that the nobles of Florence liked, becoming as much a living painting in the gallery as any of the portraits on its walls.

These were all the results of Julius’s teachings. The older mentor had taught his student everything, from how to treat others, how to smile, how to become “one of our own” with the nobles, and how to become a thorough “blue-blood” from the inside out. But sometimes, looking at the golden-haired young man bathed in light, he would feel dazed – was this person really his Rafael?

He had a perfect student, a perfect representative for the Portia family, yet he wasn’t as happy as he thought he would be.

It was odd.

Not until their meeting after the coronation did he realize what had changed. Not until he descended the long staircase of the Palazzo Riccardi and walked towards the young Pope, who stood in the magnificent hall and looked back at him, calm, proud, and unmoved, waiting for him to approach – just like a monarch awaiting his subject.

In that instant of their gaze meeting, he realized that something had changed.

Uncontrollable, unpredictable changes.

That sharp, cold Rafael, the beggar and thief who had clawed his way out of the slums, the natural-born hunter who had dared to take a knife and murder the head of the Portia family at the age of twelve, the untamed wild wolf – he had returned with a rage of the flames whose source could not be traced.

This wonderful feeling suddenly made him much more tolerant towards Rafael than ever before.

“Rafael,” Julius lowered his voice. His voice was naturally deep, and when he spoke so softly, the melodious waltz almost drowned out his words. Rafael frowned and unconsciously turned his head slightly to look at him. Julius was also looking at him, and Rafael was caught off guard and suddenly plunged into a deep purple lake.

“It’s not a good idea for you to leave the Portia family now. You know very well that it’s not just the Portia family, but the other twelve lords are also eyeing the position of Pope. Don’t the cardinals also want to ascend the throne of Saint Leah? You’ve been smart since you were a child. You knew all this when you were thirteen.”

Rafael looked into his eyes briefly and was burned by the frank and naked sincerity in his eyes. He quickly turned his head away with a stiff expression.

Julius had never shown such a vulnerable expression. For this man who was good at disguising himself and used to being strong, such open honesty was a huge sign of weakness.

Before the death of Pope Vitalian III, Rafael had spent more time with his biological father than with Julius. As the Pope was at the center of the power struggle, Rafael had access to the most authentic information. The Pope was also generous in cultivating this child. Although he was still young, in order to be closer to his father, he had studied with almost manic intensity. Even adults might not possess such firm determination and perseverance.

Therefore, although he was nominally a student of Julius at the Florence Seminary, Rafael had not spent a particularly long time there. Perhaps it was because Julius had seen him at his most wretched, at his absolute worst, that he was always instinctively more gentle and affectionate around Julius.

Naturally, Julius would then become more forceful.

It was only after the death of Pope Vitalian III, when Rafael’s life was turned upside down again, that the two of them gradually grew closer.

But even when they were close, Julius had never shown him such an expression.

The corners of Rafael’s mouth tightened, and he began to wonder if this was another one of Julius’s disguises?

Julius, not knowing what he was thinking, continued: “I hope—no, I beg you—”

It was the first time he had ever uttered such an unfamiliar word, so he felt a little awkward, but he himself did not expect that he actually managed to say it so fluently.

“I beg you, Rafa, to return to Portia’s arms,” ​​the head of Portia held the cane he always carried with him in one hand, his knuckles clenched so tightly that they turned white. He himself did not notice this, “Or, come back to me. Not only does Portia need you, but you need Portia too.”

Rafael was genuinely surprised this time. He looked at Julius meaningfully. Faced with the request of this possible murderer, he felt no other emotion but slight surprise.

So Julius could also say the word “beg”?

“I need Portia?” Rafael repeated, raising the corners of his mouth, whispering, “The Thirteen City-States refuse to pay tribute to Florence, and the Papal Palace will receive very little tax revenue – you must know about this, so you came to me that night to help me solve the problem of Florence’s City Guard, but you didn’t tell me anything.”

Rafael looked at Julius in the eye. “You didn’t tell me anything at the time. The Thirteen City-States refused to pledge allegiance to me. What kind of agreement did you secretly reach? And you…you wanted to force me to be tied to Portia by solving the problem for me. You gave me honey wrapped in poison. You were waiting for me to eat it and become the ‘Pope of Portia’, just like my father who died early, weren’t you?”

His speech became faster and lower, until in the end, it was almost like a sharp wind scraping across his eardrums, and Julius’s heart trembled.

But Rafael continued.

“The premise of cooperation is mutual honesty. You’ve never been honest with me, Teacher. Twice.” The young pope’s lavender eyes were as cold as an icy blade. “The first time, you went to the Palazzo Riccardi; the second time, you tricked me into standing on Portia’s ship without realizing it – is this the third time?”

Julius suddenly pursed his lips, and his deep purple eyes fixedly stared at Rafael.

Teacher, this title that had disappeared for many years suddenly appeared, causing Julius to be momentarily stunned.

Rafael’s young and tender face and trusting eyes appeared once again, along with those past memories, but it was only for a brief moment before Julius pulled out his emotions. He realized that although Rafael’s tone was firm, it was not completely hopeless.

The young pope was mentored by Julius himself. No matter how unwilling he was, fate had destined him to bear the indelible marks of Julius. All of Rafael’s rhetoric was taught by Julius, and the cunning and wise patriarch of the Portia family had taught him how to choose the most subtle words and how to manipulate the other party’s emotions in the shortest time.

One of the most useful tricks was to change the form of address.

Rafael used their old form of address, representing their harmonious past, which meant that his refusal left ample room for leniency.

Julius understood, and Rafael knew that Julius would understand.

They were both well aware of each other’s tactics.

“Since Portia hasn’t managed to win me over, it means all thirteen lords have a chance to gain my support. As long as I can endure this testing period, olive branches will be eagerly extended to me—then the Portia family will be the ones in a hurry, won’t they?”

Those dancing nearby suddenly noticed that the golden-haired Pope at the edge of the dance floor had a charming smile on his face, as if he had thought of something pleasant. This smile concealed most of his overly holy and inviolable temperament, and an unprecedentedly seductive masculine charm emanated from him, causing at least two pairs of dancers to stumble.

Seeing this scene, the young Pope smiled even more happily and raised his goblet to them in a toast.

“So now, are you in a hurry, Julius?”

Julius sighed deeply, unable to say what he was feeling—perhaps it was a combination of vigilance, murderous intent, and admiration. Looking at the student he had personally trained, the patriarch of the Portia family lowered his eyes, his thumb rubbing the carved sea monster totem on his cane, his face regaining its usual noble smile. “… You’re so smart, you figured it out so quickly, so decisively, as expected of Rafa. So were all your previous gentleness and tolerance just an act?”

When Rafael heard this, his eyes blinked rapidly, masking the slight anger that had leaked out.

Disguise? He had tried so hard to blend in with them, clumsily watching and imitating, turning the beggar covered in mud into a well-dressed pope, learning to smooth out his sharp soul, learning to be tolerant. He thought he had succeeded, but what did he get in the end? He died a violent death in his own bedroom! He was tortured by inhuman pain before his death, and his heart was cruelly pierced.

He was tolerant to all, had mercy on all suffering, had bestowed them justice. But where was the tolerance he deserved? Where was the mercy he deserved? Where was the justice he needed?!

Now, he was being questioned about whether he had been pretending?

Rafael felt as if all the bones in his body were creaking, and he used up almost all his self-control not to show an inappropriate expression.

The resentment he had felt since his resurrection had been hidden deeply in his heart. He couldn’t let it go and neither could anyone who was treated so cruelly could. All his efforts had been denied. He struggled to free himself from the mud, covered in blood, only to be kicked back down by Fate.

Rafael admitted that, beyond the reasons he had already given for rejecting Portia, there was another: he couldn’t forgive Julius. Even though he had no proof that Julius was responsible… he simply couldn’t accept it.

“You can think of it that way.” Rafael had too much anger to vent, but facing Julius who knew nothing, he just said this lightly in the end.

“Alright, I admit that Portia needs Sistine I.” Julius caught the fleeting abnormality in Rafael’s eyes, but before he could investigate further, it disappeared, so he changed his tone and said gently, “But you have to admit that with Portia’s help, you will be able to sit more securely on the throne of Saint Leah. As for the confession you want-“

Julius paused, observing Rafael’s expression for a moment. Not finding anything unusual, he continued, “I will tell you everything you want to know, without concealment – on the condition that it doesn’t harm Portia’s interests.”

A conditional promise was more real and credible.

How rare, Rafael thought with a hint of irony. In his previous life, he trusted Julius too much, so he had never heard Julius speak so honestly to him.

“As a token of my sincerity, I’ll tell you why I went to the Palazzo Riccardi. It’s related to your father.” Julius took a golden goblet filled with wine from a passing servant’s tray. Waiting for the servant to leave, he continued, “Pope Vitalian III was murdered. You know that.”

Of course Rafael knew.

It was a bit funny that both pair of father and son popes ended up being murdered.

But Pope Vitalian III was better off than he was, because his death was not concealed. The Papal Palace admitted the Pope’s death. He died on a tour, his throat slit by a pagan with a dagger. This incident caused a frenzy among all the believers on the continent, and the purge of pagans reached its peak at that time. Tens of thousands of pagans died in the aftermath of this disaster.

“There were doubts about his death. I suspected that Tondolo might know something, so I went to ask him. But the old man was very tight-lipped, and I really didn’t get anything out of him. The reason I took Redrick with me was also for this very reason. He was more suitable than you to see Tondolo.”

Julius’ words were subtle, but Rafael understood them instantly, After all, he was the illegitimate son of Pope Vitalian III, never publicly acknowledged, while Redrick was that man’s legitimate son.

Rafael sneered. He didn’t feel anything about this matter, nor did he feel any inferiority complex as an illegitimate child. Perhaps he had once, but that feeling had quickly passed. It seemed like only Redrick and his brothers had ever cared.

Upon hearing this, Rafael immediately lost all interest: “Is that all you want to say? You came to me so urgently, are you worried that some lord will try to win me over? Or perhaps…”

The young pope pondered for a moment, then broke into a strange smile. The cunning and cruelty of old seemed to seep out from beneath his skin. He looked at Julius almost mockingly. “Are the lords getting restless? Do they want to use me against the Portias?”

That was the only reason why the head of the Portia family would be so eager to approach him at this farewell party.

Julius’s quiet smile was a sign of agreement.

“This is beneficial for the Papal Palace as well, isn’t it? You won’t have to go through them to collect taxes from the Papal States anymore, and no one will be able to call the shots in the Papal States that belong to you. Portia is your backing, your pillar, the flowers beside your throne – we pledge our loyalty to you.”

The head with long iron-gray hair bowed towards the young Pope.

He was right. The lords who had carved up most of the land of the Papal States were thorns in the eyes of successive popes. It would naturally be a great thing if these big trees entrenched in the Papal States could be eradicated.

From then on, Rafael’s papal bulls could be circulated smoothly throughout the Papal States, taxes and land would be collected by the Papal Court, and Portia would became the sole papal agent.

It was a win-win situation for both sides.

Rafael had no reason to refuse.

The golden-haired, purple-eyed pope slowly extended his left hand, the papal ring on his thumb gleaming.

The head of the Portia family lifted that hand and gently kissed the ring, pledging the Portia’s loyalty.

This scene occurred in plain sight, and everyone witnessed it. They immediately realized what it meant and were greatly shocked.

The Portias had declared their allegiance to Sistine I?!

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