The Reversed Hierophant
Chapter 45.2 Execution

The elderly judge straightened up and looked at the Pope for a few seconds. He saw some hints in the eyes of the young and handsome pontiff that he had long hoped to see, but at this moment, he desperately hoped that he hadn’t understood anything.

“I declare that they shall be executed in the most extreme manner, pierced through their limbs with blades, and doused with boiling sulfur water. Their skin shall be peeled from their limbs and torso, and finally, they shall be drawn and quartered by five horses.”

The Judge glanced discreetly at the Pope after each word, trying to discern from his face what he should say next, but it was clear that the Pope had no intention of giving him any hints. So, the Judge could only slowly finish saying these words.

This terrible punishment was created by Emperor Lav III of Rome. He used this set of punishments to punish rebels who tried to assassinate him. It was said that most of those who had been subjected to this punishment still retained consciousness before being thrown into the fire, which obviously exceeded the limits of people’s imagination.

Many people fell silent after hearing these words, but soon they shouted and cheered again, “That’s right! We can’t let them die so easily!”

After the Judge finished saying these words, Piero, the fattest of the defendants, began to slide down without a word. The black-robed monks beside him forcefully lifted him up from both sides. The others were no better. They instantly became a puddle of mud, and someone had to pull them to prevent them from falling to the ground.

“No, no, no… Your Holiness! I plead guilty! I was wrong! I’m willing to offer you all my possessions!” Quentin, who had the quickest reaction, shouted at the Pope on the stage, “My estate, my land! I have two ports in Calais! And six trading ships!”

His hoarse shouting failed to attract any attention from the Pope. Rafael slowly flipped through the book—this was the second time, but even the most boring rambling seemed more interesting to him than the lord’s tearful plea for mercy.

The black-robed monks walked over expressionlessly and dragged the five lords to the center of the empty square. Only then did people realize that several simple wooden platforms had been erected there at some point, with cross-shaped wooden racks inserted into them, clearly a simple execution platform.

Seeing that they were getting closer and closer to the platform, the faces of the five lords changed. Even Old Russo, who had been sneering and making big speeches just a moment ago, turned pale, his eyes darting around. When he was dragged onto the first step, Old Russo kicked his legs hard and hooked his toes tightly on the edge of the step, “Wait, wait a minute! I have something else to say—”

The black-robed monks, who had not received any orders, seemed to ignore his words and coldly dragged him upwards, easily causing old Russo, who had exerted all his strength, to lose his footing and be lifted onto the steps in a nearly comical manner.

“Wait—I have something to say! Your Holiness—Holy Father! I have something else to say!” Old Russo turned his head hard, trying to look at the young victor, “I have something that you want! You’ll be interested in it, I swear!”

He roared at the top of his lungs. The Pope tilted his head, as if feeling bored. The black-robed monk who was pulling Old Russo immediately understood. He took a piece of hemp rope from his sleeve and forcefully tied it around Old Russo’s mouth. His tongue was instantly rendered useless, and the old man’s voice was muffled in his throat, only making low, humming noises.

The few people were tied to the wooden rack. The experienced executioner was covered in a large cowhide coat, to prevent the splashing blood from staining his skin. Only two small round holes were made in the eye area. Through that round hole, Old Russo saw a pair of cold eyes with a ferocious smile.

“Ah—”

Sharp blades pierced their palms and ankles, and they let out a shrill scream, while the people below raised their arms high and cheered joyfully, as if drawing infinite strength from their pain.

This set of punishments was not completed in one go. In the interval of waiting for the sulfuric water, the Judge once again climbed onto the podium, and this time his expression could no longer be described as ugly.

“This court now tries Lucrezia Bianchi, Albert Filch, Casappa Montague, and seven others for their involvement in the assassination attempt of the Pope and the slaughter of civilians—”

The seven lords standing on the witness stand were still immersed in the horror of the punishment. For a moment, they couldn’t even recover their senses. When they heard their names being called out from a distance, they looked around dazedly. It wasn’t until everyone’s eyes fell on them that they suddenly realized what had happened.

The few people on the witness stand turned their heads quickly towards the Pope with enough force to almost twist their heads off, their terrified and angry questions almost bursting out of their mouths.

—He had clearly promised them!

They hadn’t felt this betrayed in a long while. They had given up all their wealth and land in exchange for a promise from the Pope to spare their lives, and in exchange for the qualification to stand on the witness stand. Otherwise, they would have been nailed to the wooden frame and be screaming like Old Russo. But they hadn’t even celebrated for a moment before being dragged to the place where Old Russo had just been?!

Even a person with the strongest spirit couldn’t accept this fact.

The well-prepared, black-robed monks didn’t even wait for them to shout anything. They stepped forward and grabbed their wrists, restraining all their movements, and at the same time took a wet piece of hemp cloth and covered their mouths and noses for a few seconds.

When they let go, the lords were shocked to replace that they couldn’t utter a single word!

Their lips were numb, their tongues were swollen, and their muscles were uncontrollably relaxed, so they could only make indistinct syllables.

The high-concentration anesthetic, a mix of the juices of mandrake, hemlock, and deadly nightshade, was strong enough to numb their mouths and tongues, preventing them from uttering a single word, but not so strong as to induce unconsciousness.

The Pope put down the book in his hand and gave them a smile.

This smile was holy enough to be painted with a halo and hung in the Grand Gallery of the Papal Court, but in the eyes of the several lords who had been drugged, it was nothing more than the devil grinning at them.

The only one who was spared was Lucrezia Bianchi. She looked at her speechless companions with pale and cold eyes, and they all cast expectant glances at her.

The Judge’s forehead was covered with sweat, “The defendants have proven their involvement in all the plots in their testimony just now. However, in view of the defendants’ sincere confession and their initiative to report and expose the crimes, after the special jury’s trial, it is decided to sentence the seven people to death by beheading, to be carried out immediately.”

“Do you have any objections to this punishment?” The Judge raised his sweat-soaked face and looked at the seven lords.

The seven of them opened their mouths and tried to shout.

Objections!

They had so many objections!

Rafael had clearly promised them! He wouldn’t kill them! This was him going back on his word! Despicable, filthy, shameless!

The Pope looked at the lords who glared at him angrily and stood up from his seat, facing the Judge, “I would like an opportunity to pray for them.”

“Of course, Your Holiness, of course you can.” The Judge replied quickly.

The Pope walked in front of them, stretched out his hand, and placed it on their heads – of course, the few of them were firmly controlled by the monks behind them to ensure that they wouldn’t harm the Pope.

“I promised I wouldn’t kill you,” the Pope’s voice was as soft as a mosquito’s, but it was loud enough for them to hear, “But it wasn’t me who judged you. I have never imposed any personal will on the court from beginning to end.”

A strange emotion flashed in the Pope’s pale purple eyes.

“The one who judged you was Florence.”

This was also one of the reasons why he insisted on using the Grand Tribunal instead of the Papal Court.

Amidst their angry stares, he gently touched each person’s forehead as a sign of blessing, and finally came to the only female lord.

“You promised me…” Lucrezia lifted her veil, revealing a pair of blue eyes, and stared fixedly at the Pope, “Was that a lie too?”

Rafael looked into her eyes, his tone calm, “I never lied to anyone. What we agreed upon was clearly written at the beginning.”

Lucrezia stared into his eyes, as if trying to dig out every emotion from them and lay it out in front of her to see clearly. Finally, she said in a trembling voice, “I hope you remember your words. Swear to God our agreement. Otherwise, I will crawl back from hell and bite your throat out.”

When she said this, her eyes were as fierce as a she-wolf on the wilderness.

Rafael calmly raised his hand, “I swear to God.”

In fact, now that he had already won a complete victory, there was no need for him to make this oath. What else could stop him from getting what he wanted?

The female lord withdrew her gaze and turned to the Judge, saying clearly, “We have no objections.”

The six lords looked at her with eyes more ferocious than evil spirits. If the monks had loosened their grip, they would have pounced on the woman and torn her to pieces!

The executioner was already standing on the newly built platform, and the few people were dragged over. Lucrezia walked over by herself. As she passed Rafael, she said softly, “Please tell my child that her mother deserved her fate.”

Her voice was shaking badly, but there was no hesitation.

This was the last gift she could give to her child. She saw something terrifying in the eyes of the young Pope, and she sincerely hoped that her child wouldn’t become his enemy but instead grow up safely under his protection.

Rafael turned his back to them. He heard the long blade fall, the blood splattering, and a heavy object falling dully onto the wooden floor. Deafening cheers rang out all around him, and he suddenly felt extremely tired.

Ferrante keenly noticed the cloud of weariness that seemed to engulf the Pope. He quietly walked over, held his elbow, and asked with concern, “Holy Father?”

Rafael turned his head to look at him, there was a faint light of fatigue in his half-closed eyes, seemingly like a handful of broken gems, shimmering with a beautiful light, but everyone knew that it was instead the remains of a shattered corpse.

Ferrante’s heart skipped a beat, and he unconsciously increased the force in his hand, “Are you…are you feeling unwell?”

Rafael closed his eyes and quickly suppressed his inappropriate emotions. His whole person was once again wrapped in a flawless body, “No, I’m fine.”

He faced the crowd, and countless trusting, expectant, and admiring eyes were fixed on him.

Undoubtedly, this bloody massacre had won Rafael the absolute support of the entire Florence. Whether it was Russo or Portia, no one could overshadow the Pope’s glory here, and no one could take away the Pope’s authority. His orders would be unimpeded in Florence, and the Papal Palace would become the de facto ruling center of Florence.

Sistine I finally had finally possessed his Florence completely.

But this was not the end.

He had done all this, and he must obtain the greatest result.

“In the name of reclaiming the territories of the criminal lords, issue a conscription notice,” Rafael said softly to Ferrante, “Let Leshert choose the people he needs, put them under the name of the Papal Guard, and then go to war—it’s time for the Papal States to be unified.”

He wanted a Papal State that was absolutely obedient to the Pope, a unified and independent Papal State.

The young Pope stood on the high platform, with the bloody execution ground behind him, like an oil painting in thick colors. This scene was later frozen on paper, becoming an eternal historical moment.

History faithfully recorded it in books: The June Trial of Florence, the beginning of the unification of the Papal States by Pope Sistine I.

Author’s Note

Florence has been cleared! The Papal States will be coming soon!

Note: The punishment of the five lords in the text is derived from the sentence of Louis XV on Damiens¹.

Translator’s Note

Hello, things have been pretty hectic lately for me so my translation schedule for the Reversed Hierophant will be delayed. Just like my other translated novel, I’ll be updating chapters for this 2-3 times/week. Things should slow down a bit by early next year and updates could be more frequent.

1 Robert-François Damiens – a French domestic servant whose attempted assassination of King Louis XV in 1757 culminated in his public execution. He was the last person to be executed in France by dismemberment, the traditional form of death penalty reserved for regicides. His torture and latter subsequent dismemberment was as gruesome as the punishment described here.