Chapter 86

86. The whole story (3)

Cardinal Orland left the imperial palace without achieving anything. The Emperor’s demand was clear: Elkius would not move until the regalia were presented.

Time was running out. When the Pope passes away, it is customary to bury or incinerate his belongings along with his body.

The regalia would be no exception. While the Duke of Tiflis’s offering should be stored in the treasury by principle, very few knew that the Pope was keeping the regalia. Unless the Pope gave specific instructions, there was a high possibility that they would be buried.

Cardinal Orland, determined to secure the regalia before the conclave, hurried back to the temple.

The temple was in an uproar. Several young priests were moving belongings. Cardinal Orland squinted his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“We are organizing His Holiness’s room.”

“His Holiness’s room?”

“His Holiness instructed us to pack his things as he plans to return to his hometown after the conclave.”

Samuel Dorfman, emerging from the room, answered on behalf of the young priest.

When did this man return?

Orland gazed at Samuel Dorfman with disapproval. Dorfman’s face was darkened by the sun and his hair was more gray, indicating he had just returned from the Marquisate of Alberden.

Cardinal Orland, unable to hide his hostility, spoke.

“When did you return to the temple?”

“I arrived late last night. I wanted to greet you in the morning, but I was told you were out.”

“I had important business to attend to. But what is this about His Holiness returning to his hometown?”

“His Holiness wishes to spend his final days in his hometown. Since a new Pope will be elected soon and he will have to relocate, I thought it best to prepare as per His Holiness’s wishes.”

“Why did you make such a significant decision without consulting anyone, Cardinal Dorfman?”

At Orland’s sharp inquiry, Samuel responded.

“Then who should His Holiness consult with to make such a decision?”

“Well, of course…”

Cardinal Orland quickly shut his mouth. Raising his voice would only reveal that he had been excluded from the Pope’s consultations.

The priests, pausing their work, exchanged curious glances. Lowering his voice, Cardinal Orland spoke.

“Cardinal Dorfman, may we speak privately?”

“Of course.”

With a prompt agreement, Cardinal Orland and Samuel Dorfman headed to the prayer room. Once seated, Cardinal Orland asked directly.

“Have you accepted being a candidate for Pope?”

Samuel Dorfman chuckled softly.

“Is that why you are so upset?”

“Are you planning to accept the Papacy?”

Samuel’s expression hardened slightly at Orland’s rude tone.

“I cannot betray the trust of those who recommended me.”

“Isn’t your calling to be a savior to the people? Is there a need to take on such a heavy burden and distance yourself from them?”

“Isn’t it a prejudice to think that becoming Pope distances one from the people?”

“That’s because you do not understand how heavy the Pope’s duties are.”

“That is precisely why the temple is being shunned by the people. Politics and wealth are fine, but the temple’s purpose is to guide people on the right path.”

“…Understood.”

Confirming Samuel Dorfman’s firm resolve, Cardinal Orland stood up.

“Whoever becomes Pope, the other cannot remain in the institution.”

“It might be an opportunity to achieve greater things in a broader arena.”

“I will take my leave now.”

Cardinal Orland left the prayer room first. Now, there was only one way left. He had to complete his task before the Papal election.

He sent an urgent message to the blacksmith.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

“You have come, Cardinal.”

Cardinal Orland visited the blacksmith that night. Cloaked in a black robe, he quietly entered the smithy.

“Is the sword ready?”

“Almost finished.”

Cardinal Orland clicked his tongue.

“Does it take this long to make a single sword?”

“I apologize, Your Eminence. It’s not easy without a blueprint, just working from a drawing.”

“I said it only needs to resemble the original. Hurry up and show me.”

“Are you sure it’s alright if it’s not finished?”

“It doesn’t matter. Where is it?”

The blacksmith brought a large box. Inside was counterfeit regalia.

“Here it is.”

The counterfeit regalia crafted meticulously by the blacksmith was quite elaborate. While it would be obvious when placed side by side with the genuine regalia, there would be no opportunity for such a comparison, so it was satisfactory enough.

“The edge hasn’t been properly honed yet,” said the blacksmith.

Cardinal Orland drew the sword, noticing that the blade gleamed far too brightly to be an old regalia, but there was no time to fuss over such details.

He had to switch the regalia and present it to the Emperor, who would then exert pressure on the temple. This plan had to be executed immediately, even that very day.

Cardinal Orland, taking the fake regalia, set down a hefty pouch.

“Leave immediately. Remember, if this gets out, both you and I are dead men.”

“Understood.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

The conclave was scheduled for four days later. The day after visiting the blacksmith, Cardinal Orland spent the entire day in the prayer room, contemplating how to switch the regalia.

The Pope had declared that he would not meet anyone until the conclave. This ruined Orland’s plan to swap the regalia while the Pope was away.

The one fortunate thing was that Orland, having served the Pope for a long time, knew his routine well.

Right now, the Pope would be having dinner, and soon he would retire for the night. The Pope always drank tea before bed.

After checking the time, Cardinal Orland left the prayer room and headed to the kitchen. Since everyone was dining, the kitchen was empty. He smeared a sleeping agent on the bottom of the teapot used by the Pope.

“Your Eminence, what are you doing here?”

“…Ah, I was thirsty and came to get some water.”

A young priest, carrying empty dishes, entered. Orland, startled, gave a clumsy excuse. The priest filled the pot that Orland had just tampered with.

“Is that for His Holiness?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t like his tea too hot, so let it cool a bit before serving.”

“Understood.”

“Has His Holiness been sleeping well?”

“Yes, he rarely calls for us in the early hours anymore.”

“That’s good to hear.”

With a gesture to hurry, the young priest bowed and left the kitchen. Orland watched him leave, then returned to his room.

Darkness fell quietly. Cardinal Orland, carrying the fake regalia, headed to the Pope’s room.

His hand trembled slightly as he grasped the doorknob. He was neither used to nor bold in such matters. When he poisoned Cardinal Matteo, it was enough to smear poison on the scripture. This was his first time acting directly.

Turning the doorknob quietly, he entered the room and held his breath, observing the Pope. Listening to the Pope’s steady breathing, he checked the teapot. Seeing it empty, he let out a sigh of relief.

‘Where did he keep the regalia?’

The Pope’s room was tidy due to his neatness. Having recently finished packing, it didn’t take long to search the room.

The regalia was in a cabinet next to the wardrobe. Opening the antique box, the real regalia gleamed in the darkness.

Cardinal Orland hurriedly took out the fake regalia. Just as he was about to swap them.

“Who’s there?”

“…!”

With a bang, Cardinal Orland dropped the box in shock, freezing in place. The Pope, whom he thought was asleep, was sitting up and glaring at him.

“Cardinal Orland! What are you doing!”

The Pope raised his voice at Cardinal Orland. In the unexpected situation, Orland barely managed to regain his senses and started to back away. At that moment,

Thud! A strong impact struck the back of his head. He collapsed without making a sound.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

“Ugh…”

Cardinal Orland forced his eyelids open. His head throbbed painfully.

‘What happened?’

His vision was blurry, making it difficult for him to comprehend the situation. He rubbed his face roughly, trying to clear his mind, and wrinkled his nose at the metallic smell.

His palm was wet. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he saw his hand stained red. Not just his hand, but the floor and his clothes were soaked in red.

He snapped back to reality as if doused in cold water. Raising his head, he saw an unbelievable sight.

“Y-Your Holiness…?”

Recognizing the situation, Cardinal Orland’s teeth chattered.

The Pope, sitting on the bed, was covered in blood. Blood from his chest soaked the bedsheets. A familiar sword was lodged in the Pope’s chest.

The fake regalia.

His mind went blank. Something had gone terribly wrong.

A Pope was stabbed to death and himself covered in blood. It was a scenario that painted him as the perfect suspect.

Who on earth did this?

Dragging his trembling legs, Cardinal Orland stood up. If anyone saw this, he would be accused of murder.

Thinking he had to hide the fake regalia, he approached the Pope. The Pope was dead, eyes wide open.

Gritting his teeth, Orland grasped the hilt of the fake regalia. The sword, lodged firmly between the ribs, didn’t come out easily.

While he struggled with the heat.

“Your Holiness, are you awake? May I come in for a moment?”

A priest’s voice came from outside. Without a chance to prepare, the door swung open. Cardinal Orland turned, still gripping the regalia.

Seeing the scene, the priest gasped in horror and shouted.

“Is anyone there? The Pope has been assassinated!”