The Reversed Hierophant

Rafael held the letter from Rome, propping his head up with one hand as he drowsily stared at the parchment. The parchment had a classic yellowish hue, and the handwriting was bold and decisive, a stark contrast to the rounded, flowery script typically favored by noblewomen. Sancha’s handwriting had a strong masculine quality, blurring all traces of gender. It would be impossible to determine the author’s gender based on the script alone.

In an era where the handwriting of royal members was carefully designed and trained, such a significant ‘error’ could not have been unintentional. Rafael was certain that Sancha had cultivated this distinctive style for a specific reason. Perhaps, from a very young age, Queen Amandra had already decided to place her on the throne.

A monarch could be a woman, but in an era that always prioritized men, even a queen had to make certain compromises. Even if this compromise was merely a seemingly insignificant detail like handwriting, it would help to dilute her feminine qualities. At least, during correspondence, it would prevent people from being constantly reminded that she was a woman, thus avoiding unnecessary condescension.

Rafael stared at the beautiful calligraphy, unsure of what he was feeling.

Sancha’s letters were always concise and informative, but the language was pure, the kind that Rafael preferred most. In this letter, Sancha informed him of a piece of news:

—Three months ago, civil unrest broke out in Assyria.

This vast and fertile land was dominated by plains, with continuous mountain ranges providing ample rainfall and a temperate climate. At the end lay vast frozen swamps, and the diverse climate resulted in an incredibly rich variety of species. The people living in this land followed the guidance of nature, which had bestowed everything upon them, and worshipped the gods of nature. They revered the wolf, feared brave tigers and leopards, and kept the bones of fierce beasts as symbols of courage. They cherished a fearless spirit and an appreciation for the grandeur of the primal wilderness.

They were heretics in the eyes of the Church, but their gods had granted them unparalleled bravery. The Assyrian infantry was renowned throughout the continent. Every adult man in the tribe possessed the agility of a monkey, the endurance of a wolf, and the courage of a tiger. United under the leadership and guidance of their tribal priests, they pledged their loyalty to the Assyrian monarch.

Unlike the monarchies of Rome and Calais, Assyria’s unique belief system made their political system more primitive. They did have hereditary monarchs, but beside the monarch were high priests and priests, religious figures who had equal prestige. This religious faction who listened to the voice of gods controlled all aspects of the lives of the Assyrian people, and sometimes even the monarch had to yield to them.

Before Amandra was born, Calais, along with several neighboring countries of Assyria, launched a war against the resource-rich Assyria. This war lasted for several years, and Assyria was divided as the smoke and flames of war spread across the land.

When Amandra was slightly older, her father, the then King of Assyria, proposed an alliance with the Roman Empire to end the war as soon as possible. His only daughter became the ideal candidate for this marriage alliance. In preparation for becoming the Roman Queen, Amandra had received both Assyrian and Roman education since her youth, giving her both the wild pride of an Assyrian and the elegant reserve of a Roman.

However, the alliance between Assyria and Rome did not bring Assyria the peace that they had hoped for.

Although Assyria was reunited under the threat of force, this reconciliation was fraught with uncertainty – Calais had not left Assyria empty handed. The unified and complete Assyrian Empire was plagued by the hidden dangers sown by decades of war. The regions where Assyria bordered other countries became notorious for their chaos, and the power of the monarchy was unprecedentedly constrained.

Over the long years that followed, Amandra, with the help of the Roman Empire, finally managed to stabilize Assyria and took the crown from her father, ruling Assyria for nearly a decade—until the internal strife in Assyria broke out this year.

Assyria was no longer the unified and peaceful country it once was. Under the influence of various chaotic factions, it would erupt in large and small conflicts at any opportunity, dragging Assyria back into the Dark Ages.

In fact, many countries didn’t want to see a stable and powerful Assyria. They preferred the current chaotic state, which allowed them to intervene and profit.

Rafael knew very well that this internal strife was inevitable. Or rather… he had long anticipated such a civil war would break out, one that would engulf all of Assyria, dragging their hard-won stability into a terrifying abyss, and even…

Queen Amandra of Assyria would also die in this war.

This had happened in his previous life, but Rafael’s memories only went up to this point. Less than two months after the Assyrian queen’s death, he was killed in a bloody murder.

Rafael had once tried to warn Sancha, but of course, his words in the letter were very vague. Since he couldn’t reveal his source of information, he could only say that the faith in Assyria was undergoing a turmoil:

‘Pagans—please forgive me for using this term without any emotional bias—most of your people in Assyria refuse to set foot in the territory of the Holy See, but sometimes their reactions can also bring some news. The Holy See is aware that a huge undercurrent is about to sweep across Assyria, and the target of the undercurrent is undoubtedly the Assyrian monarch. I don’t know if your mother has noticed its arrival—I only hope that we won’t be swallowed up by this wave.’

His words were euphemistic and highly suggestive; this was the best hint that he could give. But it was obvious that the hatred and war that had lasted for so many years would not disappear just because of his vague hints. What was coming was bound to come.

Rafael pressed his brow in distress and let out a long sigh. He picked up a quill and dipped it in the crystal-hollowed inkwell. The ink, mixed with spices, had a faint fragrance. This scent that could calm people down did not bring Rafael enough peace at the moment.

‘…Florence is going through a period of turmoil. I’m sorry I can’t give you more advice, but I still need to remind you that history always repeats itself. The pursuit of power and wealth is the fundamental desire of all human beings. The reason why all betrayals have not yet occurred is simply because fate has not been offered a high enough price. If the price is high enough, even the most devout believer will betray their God…’

As the supreme ruler of faith in the Syracuse Peninsula, the Pope calmly wrote these cruel and blasphemous words.

‘…The war in Assyria is not just the anger of the common people—although this reason has been dressed up as a spear pointing towards you. Who is standing behind them? Who is providing them with weapons and ammunition? Who is giving them advice? Who is telling them about the deployment of the Assyrian army and suggesting them when to attack and defend? To answer these questions, we must inevitably look further afield. The answer lies not within the blood, war, chaos, and slogans that are close at hand, but at a certain debate, negotiation, or private meeting decades ago…’

‘Let your thoughts penetrate through the barriers of time and space, and follow the long-dead politicians to observe their old enemies who were long buried in the dust. Go to the imperial archives and read their stories that have been played out countless times—there is never anything new under the sun. A good way to judge is to look for the beneficiaries involved—this is indeed the best method summarized by the wisdom of countless predecessors.’ Ŗå₦ȯᛒƐＳ

‘Of course, if you follow my method, you will find that Assyria’s enemies are everywhere except Assyria.’

When writing this sentence full of dark humor, Rafael stopped writing and showed a self-depreciating smile that he hadn’t even noticed. Wasn’t this letter he wrote to Sancha, in a way, also written to himself?

Rafael paused, searching his memory for something useful. Why would the civil unrest in Assyria happen again? It was a question that didn’t need much exploration. As he said, every country was the driving force behind it. He was even sure that the Portia family had also secretly lend a hand in it. With the joint efforts of multiple parties, what was originally just a chaotic region finally brewed up a storm powerful enough to sweep across the entire Syracuse—something no one had expected.

But wasn’t that how reality was? No one could fully anticipate everything. Precisely because it was so unpredictable and mysterious, it held a fascinating allure.

Since the reason was no longer important, the only thing that mattered was the result.

‘…Her Majesty the Queen may have said something similar to you, so there is no need for me to repeat the same old things. Starting a war is easy, but stopping it is diffficult.’

Rafael paused again. He shifted his numb leg uncomfortably. When writing letters, he would dismiss everyone from the room, and his leg, which hadn’t received adequate care in the Orange Blossom Church, began to clamor for its presence again. Rafael irritably changed his posture, forcibly ignoring the creaking of his bones. This wasn’t difficult for him.

When he was in Cantrella Castle, the dark and damp environment was even worse. At that time, it had been less than 2 years since his surgery, and the pain was so severe that he couldn’t sleep for nights on end. He even reached the point where he resorted to self-harm to suppress the pain, but he eventually endured it and made it to this day.

Physical torture could never make him kneel.

Rafael took a deep breath and refocused his attention on the parchment in front of him. He dipped the quill in the ink again, and a faint fragrance wafted out, making him feel much better.

‘I guess Assyria might need some more powerful bargaining chips, just like how your grandfather facilitated the alliance between Assyria and Rome. Now Assyria needs strong external support. Based on the special nature of the Assyrian faith, Florence cannot be the queen’s first choice. So your marriage may only fall to the West—’

In the West, there was a powerful empire that had been in a three-way confrontation with Rome and Assyria for hundreds of years: Calais.

But Rome and Assyria had already formed an alliance. To let Calais join this alliance as well? Then a huge country with a vast territory would be born on the continent of Syracuse, a country so vast that it would inspire fear. Such a unified and vast empire had never existed on the continent of Syracuse. No, it had existed many years ago, and that disintegrated country had an incomparably glorious name: the Holy Roman Empire.

If Rome, Assyria, and Calais were unified, the newly born country would be even more vast than the Holy Roman Empire at its peak.

This was a future that even Rafael was terrified of.

Not to mention the other small countries that were already teetering on the brink under the influence of these three countries. They would be terrified of this future and would rather be shattered to pieces than allow this possibility to come into being.

‘…I hope Her Majesty will realize the seriousness of this matter. If Assyria and Calais starts to negotiate a betrothal, then the price of you and the Emperor of Calais in the assassin market will be unprecedentedly high. And considering the difficulty of completing the task, it would obviously be more wise to choose you. After all, the young emperor still has a strong and healthy uncle of marriageable age. If you die instead, the queen wouldn’t have a second daughter to complete the marriage.’

Moreover, as the monarch of Florence, he didn’t want this marriage to take place.

Before the Knights Templar grew to the extent he desired, he didn’t wish for such a unified empire to appear. This would be a huge pressure on Florence. In this sense, the civil strife in Assyria was not without its benefits for him.

After thinking absentmindedly for a while, Rafael suddenly came to his senses. Realizing what he had just thought, he involuntarily clenched his quill and sighed.

‘In addition, I still have to remind you that while a monarch personally going on the front lines can indeed boost morale, the risks involved always need to be carefully considered. The importance of a young and strong monarch to a country surpasses all else. I hope the queen will carefully consider this matter.’

He finally added this sentence hesitantly. Queen Amandra’s death was very sudden and the cause was unknown. Of course, this was also because he hadn’t put too much effort into investigating this matter. Some said that the queen was heavily wounded and died on the battlefield, while others said that she died of a high fever caused by her injuries. In short, it was caused by the war. After her death, Assyria lost its last monarch to maintain it, and it was obvious what situation it would fall into.

Rafael simply mentioned this out of respect for the strong, intelligent, and powerful woman, hoping that she could change this overly hasty and tragic fate.

‘I’m sorry that I can’t offer a better solution. Florence is also facing an internal turmoil right now—of course, please don’t worry too much, this is not a problem for me. As a friend, I wish you and your country can safely pass through this ordeal.’

—This was of course just a beautiful hope. Rafael placed the copper spoon containing the wax block over the flame and heated it, then dripped it onto the envelope and stamped it with his own seal before the wax had dried.

His guess was right. In the Roman Palace, Amandra was considering the possibility of negotiating with Calais for a marriage alliance.

The queen was wearing a tight-fitting long dress with a strong Assyrian style. The golden long skirt suddenly bloomed like a rose below her knees. The woman with skin as smooth as honey was at the most charming age. She was beautiful, amorous, and cold, and she was the most powerful and wealthy woman in Syracuse, a woman who controlled two powerful empires. Who wouldn’t admire her? After the death of Lav XI, even the Duke of Calais, François, had proposed to her. His intentions were obvious, and Amandra naturally rejected him.

But now, she needed to carefully consider the possibility of restarting negotiations for a marriage alliance with Calais—for her beloved and only daughter.

Amandra lowered her eyes, her sapphire blue eyes more beautiful than the most precious gems in the world. She was a pearl born on the vast plains of Assyria, and her golden brown hair was more dazzling than a leopard’s fur. However, fate took away all the treasures and happiness it gave her, and this was perhaps a punishment for her for having enjoyed happiness that others had not.

“God, please forgive me and bless my poor child.”

The woman, who had always been as tough as stone, murmured.

“I have given everything for Assyria, and we have all suffered enough. Please protect my child…”

Her full and plump red lips moved slightly, and the lonely mother suppressed that inappropriate sadness. When she opened her eyes again, the queen who controlled both the Roman and Assyrian empires was back.

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