The Reversed Hierophant
Chapter 14: Knights Templar

After leaving the training grounds, Rafael walked back. Along the way, he saw the priests and nuns bowing and making way for him in the middle of the road. Rafael skillfully responded to them with a smile. Halfway through, he met the hurried deacon.

“Your Holiness,” the deacon, who had finally found the Pope, breathed a sigh of relief and bowed respectfully, “The president of the Roman Royal Bank is waiting for you in the reception room.”

Florence’s industrial development was mediocre. Due to its small land area and large population, the local economy is mainly driven by commerce. Therefore, many wealthy families whose livelihoods depended on trade would establish a base in the Holy City. The Roman royal family, of course, also had a bank here, but the scale of this bank was not only inferior to that of the giant Portia, it wasn’t even among the top three.

Most of the business of the Roman Royal Bank was only for people related to the Roman royal family. As soon as Rafael heard the name, he understood the purpose of the president’s visit.

It must be to send money on behalf of the Queen of Assyria.

His guess was correct. The bank president waiting in the reception room had specially put on a new suit for today’s meeting. His curly mustache was neatly trimmed, and he held a long box tied with a silk ribbon in his hands.

The deacon opened the door for Rafael, and before the banker could see the young pope’s face, he bowed deeply: “Your Holiness, Sistine I, it is an honor to meet you. I am here on behalf of Her Majesty Queen Amandra of Rome, to add a little glory to your rule.”

His voice was high-pitched and tremolo-like, as if he were singing an opera.

But considering what he brought, Rafael was very tolerant of him: “Please take a seat, sir.”

The bank president humbly shook his head, and after repeated refusals, he cautiously placed half of his buttocks on the velvet chair, his face flushed with excitement.

He opened the long box he was holding tightly, unfolded the rolled parchment with both hands, and placed it in front of Rafael: “This is a gift from Her Majesty Queen Amandra to you. The gift has been converted into gold florins and will be paid to the Papal Palace in installments by the Roman Royal Bank. In addition, the Roman ship carrying iron ore has set sail yesterday and is expected to arrive in the Papal States in a month. Please have someone receive it then.”

Rafael carefully examined at the amount on the parchment, picked up the quill in the inkwell, and signed his name.

After he had signed, the president visibly breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling of having a heavy burden lifted from his shoulders restored his previous joy. He took back the documents, left the bank receipt and badge key, and bowed to Rafael again: “Then, I won’t disturb you, Your Holiness.”

Rafael nodded to him and had the attendant send him out. When the door closed, his gaze fell on the small bag on the table containing the badge key.

Putting the receipt in the drawer, Rafael picked up the small bag, opened the bag and poured it down. A Roman Bank badge and a golden key clinked onto the oak table.

The gold key could open the safe in the bank, while the badge was a token for the handover with the captain of the ship carrying the iron ore.

When Rafael negotiated with Sancha, in addition to the money that the Papal Palace urgently needed, he also requested an additional shipload of iron.

In this era, iron that could be used to forge weapons was an absolute treasure no matter where you are. There were no iron mines in the Papal States, but Assyria was a country with abundant mineral resources. Rafael wanted to obtain some iron from the Assyrian queen to arm his own private guard, or even just to keep it for future use.

But after some back and forth, a shipload of iron was eventually turned into a shipload of iron ore. However, Sancha promised that they would select the best quality ore, and additionally gift Florence two sets of steam light armor power cores as a gift.

This condition was highly appealing to Rafael.

Since a blacksmith invented a simple steam engine fifty years ago, the whole world has begun frantically exploring this new power source. Houses in the city were connected by pipes of various sizes, and steel pipes spewing white steam stood tall in the mountains and forests, blocking out the sky.

Naturally, weapons were no exception. It could be said that the first application of steam technology was in the manufacture of firearms.

The ancient matchlock gun was quickly phased out, replaced by the more lightweight mechanical gun. Crafted with brass gears and metal levers, these delicate and cold little devices became the favorites of noble officers. However, due to their entirely handmade nature, mechanical guns were prohibitively expensive, and their market share was almost negligible.

Apart from this, another new killing weapon emerged.

The person who first invented it just had a basic idea: armor is for defense, and those protected by it are often already physically exhausted. If the armor itself could run, it could carry its wearer away from danger – how wonderful that would be.

Thus, a chilling invention was born: the steam light armor.

Driven by steam, various parts of the armor are connected in series through gears and ropes to achieve an integrated effect. Through the release of steam, this thing was lighter than ordinary armor and incredibly agile. Those wearing it on the battlefield could almost move as fast as a horse running at full speed. And as long as they held a weapon – whether it was the most ordinary blade or gun – who could escape their slaughter?

But the technology of the steam power core was a closely guarded secret. Every country wanted to produce as many power cores as possible, but this thing was entirely made by hand-polished parts, with a level of precision that exceeded the most sensitive of watches. The success rate was so low as to be outrageous, and any failure meant starting from scratch. It was a veritable money pit in terms of resource consumption.

Every king dreams of having an army of steam light-armored soldiers, but so far no one has been able to put it into action without risking the bankruptcy of their entire country.

At most, there were a few small groups- of course, no one wanted to reveal the exact number.

The Holy See also has such a group.

Rafael frowned slightly when he thought of this.

He was hesitating about who to entrust this shipment of ore and two power cores to. Julius was out of the question; Portia already had enough. What he needed now was a loyal hound, not a hunter competing with him for resources.

Julius would certainly not betray their cooperation easily, but Rafael always remembered one thing: never test people’s hearts, no matter the result, it would cause harm.

The best option, of course, was to deliver them over to those who needed them most. Moreover, they should already be under the command of the Pope and be loyal to him, but…

Rafael rubbed his forehead. Even as a Pope for five years in his previous life, he couldn’t quite understand those people’s thoughts.

As the embodiment of God on earth, the Pope should have his own army. This army wasn’t referring to the Papal Guard, which was at most a ceremonial guard and served as daily protection for the Pope’s usual travels, but a regular army similar to a kingdom’s army, the type that could fight on the battlefield with real swords and guns.

There was indeed such an existence in the Florentine Church, and they were the famous Knights Templar1.

They were the Pope’s gun and spear, the torrent that conquers all directions under the command of God. During the most glorious period of the Holy See, the Knights Templar had once planted the Pope’s fleur-de-lis flags on all the mountains of the entire continent, and the glory of the Thorned Wings covered all the land. In those years, all heretics hid underground, and dared not to confront the Holy See directly. Some people even trembled involuntarily at the sight of the white armor belonging to the Knights Templar.

It was also during those years that the Holy See, with the military force and indoctrination methods of the Knights Templar, established its supreme honor, winning the glory of the Pope as the ‘King of Kings’, and offered Florence an eternal status that surpassed all earthly kingdoms.

But hundreds of years had passed, and the once powerful Knights Templar gradually declined. The Papal States restrained its edge in conquests and no longer clashed with other countries. Spears were sheathed, and horses were returned to their stables. Only vague historical stories and epics sung by bards remembered the glorious feats of the Knights Templar.

Rafael never launched any war during his reign. He had even negotiated with neighboring countries for the peace of Florence. Therefore, the Knights Templar had not made any achievements during his reign. It could even be said that he had hardly thought of this former sword of the Pope.

Besides being useless, there was another point…he actually didn’t particularly like the Grand Master2 of the Knights Templar.

The Knights Templar were all elite warriors who had been tempered through thousands of trials and tribulations. They had a faith that was more steadfast and terrifying than that of ordinary priests, and each of them was a fanatic who could fight ten enemies alone. They distanced themselves from all worldly desires and pleasures, firmly believing that those pleasures would corrupt their souls. So they slept on cold, hard wooden boards, ate hard bread, drank clear water, and prayed to God every day, purifying their spirits through suffering.

Their leader was naturally the best among them, an absolutely brilliant and devout believer, and it was for this reason that Rafael resisted this man from the bottom of his heart.

But… Rafael looked at the badge on the table, thought of the two steam power cores, thought of Florence’s poor military strength, thought of the scattered resources in his hands, and thought of the precarious reality of the Papal States…

He sighed silently, rang the brass bell on the table, and said to the deacon who appeared at the door waiting for orders: “Go invite Knight Leshert to come over.”

The knight, wearing light soft armor, crossed the flat courtyard and stopped in front of a row of simple square houses. He carefully looked at the sign hanging on the wooden door, After replaceing the name he wanted, he bent his fingers and knocked on the door: “Grand Master, His Holiness has summoned you.”

His voice was full of respect, a kind of respect and admiration that came from the bottom of his heart for the person in the room. Even when he mentioned “His Holiness”, it was merely out of respect.

The room was very small, with only enough space for a narrow wooden bed. A pair of Thorned Wings was placed on a high table against the wall. A young man, naked to the waist, was kneeling on the ground. His long golden hair flowed down his back like melted sunlight. His muscular smooth skin was covered with hideous striped scars, some of which had healed a long time ago, while others still bore fresh, swollen marks.

The man with his eyes closed had a dignified and graceful face like a classical statue. When he heard the voice, he opened his eyes, and it was as if a sculpture in an artist’s hands suddenly had a vivid soul. His expression was so clear, gentle, compassionate and tolerant that all the sins of the world would feel ashamed under his gaze.

Even if the saints of old walked the earth, they could not be more pure.

“Very well, I’ll be right there. Thank you, Ryan,” the Grand Master of the Knights Templar thanked him earnestly, wiped the bloody whip on his knees, placed it before the Thorned Wings, and put on the clothes on the bed. The rough linen shirt rubbed against the wound on his back, but his expression didn’t change at all, clearly accustomed to such pain.

He buttoned his clothes meticulously, put on the cumbersome armor, pulled his long golden hair back and tied it up, looked at himself carefully, and only after making sure that there was nothing disrespectful did he push open the door.

Leshert, a devout believer, had vowed to dedicate everything to God. To join the Knights Templar, he had even abandoned his noble surname and refused the opportunity to inherit his family’s glory, becoming a commoner, training and living like everyone else.

He won the love and respect of everyone with his sincerity, nobility and integrity. The template of a knight in the epics seemed to be fully manifested by him.

But Rafael was inexplicably resistant to him, and he couldn’t say why.

When he saw that tall figure appear at the door, Rafael unconsciously leaned back, pressing his back against the velvet of the chair, as if trying to draw a little courage from it.

“Your Holiness.”

After being granted permission, Leshert entered and knelt on one knee, bowing his head as he performed a solemn knightly salute to the young Pope.

“Please take a seat, Knight Leshert.”

Rafael didn’t address him as “Grand Master”. Everyone knew that what Leshert was most proud of his identity as a Knight of the Knights Templar, not his status as the Grand Master.

Leshert thanked him and sat down, his emerald green eyes fixed on the Pope, waiting for him to explain the purpose of calling him over.

Being looked at with this gaze, Rafael felt uncomfortable again.

It was too sincere, as if Leshert was trying to lay bare his soul, making Rafael wish he could replace a box to hide in right there and then.

He admitted that he did have a bit of a dark desire to control… or something of the sort. But Leshert’s overly straightforward and sincere nature made him completely unable to face it.

He would rather engage in intrigue with Julius, who was like a maze of twists and turns, than face Leshert.

He was willing to tell you anything you ask of him, but that’s also what was so daunting.

“A ship will arrive in Florence in a month.” Rafael decided to skip all the causes and consequences and get straight to the point. He knew that as long as he didn’t say anything, the considerate Leshert would never take the initiative to inquire about it. “It will be carrying iron ore and two sets of steam powered cores.”

When Leshert heard the word “steam powered core”, his eyes suddenly lit up as he deeply understood the meaning.

“I need the Knights Templar to receive them.” Rafael was burned by those sparkling eyes. Trying hard not to show any expression, he pushed the badge on the table forward.

Leshert understood. He respectfully took the badge and put it away. After waiting a moment longer and seeing no other orders, he stood up to leave.

But he stood there for a long time, showing no intention of leaving. Rafael, who was pretending to be reviewing the documents, felt a tingling sensation on the back of his head, and had to put down his quill: “Is there anything else, Knight?”

The Radiant Knight of the Knights Templar hesitated for a moment, his deep green eyes scanning the young Pope for a moment, before asking softly, “Are you…are you feeling unwell?”

“I noticed that you seemed to be enduring pain.”

Having practiced for a long time, Leshert was naturally very familiar with the feeling of enduring long, endless pain, so he had a subtle sensitivity to the pain of others.

Although the Pope’s expression showed nothing amiss, he could sense the fatigue and pain coming from the Pope.

Rafael’s pupils contracted.

His right leg had been aching slightly since yesterday, as if thousands of tiny needles were pricking his bones. The pain clung to his leg like a malignant tumor, twitching from time to time to announce its presence.

Rafael had gotten used to this feeling over the years. Last night, he had stayed silently awake in his bed till dawn. After getting up, he looked calm and even his walking didn’t give him away. No one noticed anything unusual about him, but Leshert actually did.

The young Pope stared at him for a long time before looking away. He said with some indifference and resistance: “No, you’re mistaken, Knight. Farewell.”

The meaning of dismissal was as clear as day. Leshert stood there for a while, like an innocent big dog that was suddenly kicked while smiling and trying to show friendship, hesitating and not knowing what to think.

“I said, Farewell, Knight,” Rafael repeated more coldly.

Leshert hesitated for two seconds, but ultimately chose to obey the Pope’s order, bowing his head and leaving the room filled with the scent of incense.

Julius, accompanied by attendants and a pile of documents for the Pope to review, came from the other end of the corridor. Seeing from afar the figure in armor leaving the Pope’s reception room, he squinted at the figure for a while, thought for a moment, and dug that person’s name out of his mind.

Leshert? What did Rafael want with him?

Translator’s Note

Sorry for the late update things have been pretty hectic and I’ve just finished my work shift. But I promise pretty regular updates at weekdays and additional ones if I’m free on the weekends. Enjoy the novel!

1 Knights Templar – a French military order of the Catholic faith, and one of the wealthiest and most popular military orders in the Roman Catholic Church. They were founded c. 1119 to defend pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem, and existed for nearly two centuries during the Middle Ages. The Templar knights, in their distinctive white mantles with a red cross, were among the most skilled fighting units of the Crusades. They also developed innovative financial techniques that were an early form of banking, building a network of nearly 1,000 commanderies and fortifications across Europe and the Holy Land.

2 Grand Master of the Knights Templar – the supreme commander of the holy order, starting with founder Hugues de Payens. Some held the office for life while others resigned life in monasteries or diplomacy. Grand masters often led their knights into battle on the front line and the numerous occupational hazards of battle made some tenures very short. The grand master controlled the actions of the order but he was expected to act the same way as the rest of the knights. After Pope Innocent II issued the papal bull acknowledging the Templars in 1139, the grand master was obliged to answer only to him.

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