The Reversed Hierophant

Leshert gasped and pulled the sword out of the corpse with great effort. He wiped the blood and mud off his face and noticed several small cuts on his fingers. He stared at the tiny wounds that were still bleeding and found that he couldn’t remember where he had been injured.

This was easy to understand. There were always all sorts of strange injuries on the battlefield. Yesterday, when Leshert went on patrol, he saw a wounded soldier sitting on a bed, grimacing. The other knights said he had misjudged the opening direction of a door when he kicked it open and tore his ligaments.

Ah, for men, this was such a sad and embarrassing injury.

Leshert casually wiped the blood on his hands on his clothes. The humid summer wind with the breath of the ocean blew across his face, dispersing much of the strong smell of blood and making his breathing much easier.

The Knight Commander stood on the hill, looking at the city in front of him – the gates of this port city had been blown open by artillery fire, and the ancient city walls were riddled with mottled gaps and smoke. Some of the pungent-smelling gunpowder had not yet burned out and was still hissing, emitting large amounts of smoke and dust.

Countless corpses were piled on the ground, hung on the city walls, and blocked in the trenches. The wounded horses let out pitiful neighs before being given a merciful death by slitting their throats.

Wounded warhorses were useless, and they were inconvenient to keep during intensive marches. The most merciful way was to let them die with their masters.

Knights wearing the insignia of the Knights Templar were dismantling catapults and loading them onto the carriages of steam locomotives in batches. Many soldiers were also installing rails with hammers—iron was a precious resource, and the railway tracks that could run locomotives were all made of sections that were easy to disassemble. The tracks were laid on the required sections and removed after use. This was a very popular method. Of course, this method also made it impossible for the tracks to be too long, and steam locomotives could only travel short distances. If it were a long-distance track, it would require careful design and long-term construction.

However, having such transportation support on the march was already very satisfying.

Soldiers carrying wooden beams walked over with smiles, and everyone greeted Leshert loudly or bowed to him as they passed by. No matter how many people came to greet him, Leshert could accurately call out their names and respond to their greetings seriously.

The city in front of them, which was slowly waking up in the smoke of gunpowder, was their last stop. Its lord, Lucrezia Bianchi, controlled this fertile land near the sea. Here, the sun was abundant and suitable for growing grapes. It was also very close to the port. Countless large and small vineyards took root and grew here, extracting nutrients from the land and turning them into red gold flowing in barrels. These wines, known as liquid gems, would be transported to all corners of the world by ships that travelled day and night.

But their will to resist was also unprecedentedly strong.

Compared to the cities of the previous few lords who had surrendered almost without a fight, Bianchi was the hardest nut to crack, second only to the Russo family. And Russo…

Thinking of that word, Leshert’s gentle and generous green eyes sank involuntarily.

The Russo family, like their deceased leader, had a cruel and vicious nature, preferring to destroy the entire city rather than hand it over peacefully. Leshert could understand their extreme ideas, but when he was truly faced with the evil deeds they had committed, he felt immense anger and sadness.

They seemed to be quite aware that they could not defeat Leshert, so they had taken the initiative to ransack the entire city before Leshert arrived.

In the midst of extreme fear and disorder, an unprecedented great chaos occurred in the Russo city-state.

Innocent people who resisted the Russo family’s looting were nailed to the walls by the guards. All entrances and exits were guarded. Those who wanted to leave were thoroughly searched, and in the end, they couldn’t even keep a complete set of clothes. In order to preserve their money, they began to find all sorts of ways to hide their property, such as swallowing coins, hoping to recover them after they left. This made them unable to swallow any food afterwards, and their bodies became swollen from hunger. Once their stomachs burst, the soldiers would find the money hidden inside them.

So the guards began to cut open the bellies of the people while they were still alive to see if there was anything inside. Armed bandits – who were still obedient civilians a day ago – roamed everywhere, stabbing wooden sticks into their victims’ rectums, forcing them to reveal the hiding places of their family’s wealth.

Everyone had become a madman, swept up and oppressed by the city’s frenzy. There was no one who couldn’t be robbed, no place that they couldn’t go. Only those who were crazy enough could survive this catastrophe. Innocent and kind people couldn’t find a safe place to hide themselves. They found that their once kind neighbors had also turned into demons in human skin.

God had abandoned this city.

The poor formed gangs and stormed into the noble districts, robbing houses, killing men, and assaulting women and children. They lit the already empty rooms with candlesticks, knocked off the gold and silver ornaments on doors and windows, and melted down the gilded decorations – causing several fires. The taste of power and the thrill of the hunt in the midst of utter chaos made them completely lose themselves. They morbidly imitated the nobles, putting on makeup and even dressing themselves as women, strutting through the streets in exquisite and gorgeous cloaks, killing anyone who got in their way.

Under the cover of this extreme chaos, no one noticed that the members of the Russo family who had caused the chaos had taken the opportunity to secretly escape.

After looting the entire city and causing a frenzy of chaos, they deliberately set fires everywhere. They then quickly left with their trusted aides and the things they had looted, leaving behind only a groaning mad city.

When Leshert arrived, this was the scene he saw.

Everyone had lost their minds. Life had become the most insignificant thing here. Puddles of blood could be seen everywhere on the road. The dead stared at the sky with bulging eyes, and rotting corpses lay across the cobblestone roads, becoming horrific decorations. Of course, there was never an intact piece of clothing left on the corpses.

The soldiers who were eager to fight fell into indescribable fear. They were not afraid of fighting, but this kind of behavior that was purely due to the evil of human nature was unacceptable to anyone.

Demons had been bred in hell.

The bandits who had formed a mob were unwilling to accept Leshert’s amnesty. They were busy enjoying the brief surge of power and wealth, and Leshert… from the bottom of his heart, was also unwilling to let such a group of people who had completely thrown themselves into the devil’s embrace return to their previous lives as if nothing had happened.

Those who have eaten human flesh will never forget that taste of it. Those who have enjoyed killing will eventually repeat their crimes.

Here, Leshert’s army was bogged down in a bitter battle.

The people in the city unscrupulously used all sorts of methods to reap lives. They didn’t cherish the city, so they dared to use any despicable and reckless means, even throwing innocent people off the city walls, because they heard that the Knights Templar led by Leshert had an extremely devout faith, and the doctrine stipulated that, “One should mourn for one day upon seeing the blood of the innocent” – they thought that this way could temporarily suspend Leshert’s offensive, but in fact, such cruelty only aroused everyone’s anger.

After a hard-fought battle, Leshert finally stepped into the city. The streets were covered with pools of blood higher than his ankles. Nine out of ten people in the entire city had died, leaving behind almost an empty city that had been completely destroyed.

Leshert sent people to search everywhere, and finally found the fleeing members of the Russo family at the port. They were about to leave the Papal States by ship for Calais. Leshert’s men rounded them all up and hanged them in public in the central square of the city, which finally managed to bring the chaotic and disorderly city back to order.

Leshert wasn’t very willing to recall the things that happened during the repair of the city, and he also glossed over it in his letter to the Pope. Although he knew that the monks who accompanied the army would report everything they saw to him in detail, he still insisted on this little point of tenderness.

He walked back to his tent, removed his slightly dented armor, and ran his fingers through his tousled golden hair. His green eyes were like two pools of still water in a deep forest.

Lord Bianchi’s manor was luxurious and comfortable. As the occupier, he obviously had the right to reside there, but as a believer who adhered to strict rules, Leshert rejected the offer and continued to live with his soldiers in the camp set up outside the city.

A timid, gentle voice sounded: “Sir, would you… would you like some water?”

Leshert was stunned for a moment. He lowered his hand, which had been rubbing his forehead, and saw a young girl standing at the entrance of the tent. She was about fourteen years old, with one hand lifting the curtain and the other holding the hand of a five or six-year-old girl. The little girl was holding a silver water jug. Both girls were wearing long robes that covered their bodies and hoods, and they were both staring at him with eager eyes.

Leshert quickly gave a gentle smile: “Thank you very much, Miss Lucrezia, Miss Ingrid.”

His acceptance obviously relieved both girls. Ingrid, the older one, let go of her hand and gently pushed the little girl behind her. The little girl held up the water jug, swaying slightly, and walked to Leshert’s side. She carefully lifted the water jug and handed it to the knight. The knight took the jug and placed it on the table, smiling at her: “Miss Lucrezia, how have you been these past few days?”

The little girl hesitated for a moment, glanced at the girl beside the tent, and received an encouraging look from her. The two girls had very similar brown eyes, as gentle as newborn lambs. Their clothing was not so luxurious, showing a deliberate low-key style, but one could still tell from their smooth long hair and fair, soft skin that they must have a very good family background.

“Thank you, sir. I… we’re all doing well. The people here have been very kind to us,” Lucrezia’s voice was soft, like the wind blowing through the lilies of the valley, completely non-aggressive.

——Completely different from her mother.

The thought briefly crossed Leshert’s mind.

Lucrezia Bianchi, the female lord who died in Florence, was known as the “She-Wolf of Bianchi.” The fact that she was able to fight her way out of her group of brothers to become the lord of Bianchi showed that she was no pushover. Such a fierce woman, upon realizing that she had entered a dead end, immediately found Rafael. It was also she who was the first to hand over all of Bianchi’s territorial wealth to the Pope in exchange for a promise.

A promise to protect her child forever.

Lucrezia Bianchi, who shared the same name as her mother, was her only child. She was six years old this year and, logically, she would be the next lord of Bianchi. But obviously, her personality wasn’t suitable for being the leader of Bianchi, which were surrounded by wolves. So her clever mother quickly found a new way out for her.

Lucrezia’s husband had coveted the Bianchi lordship and was already killed by her. The child, who had lost all protection, needed a strong enough guardian, and the female lord chose Pope Sistine I for her.

When you think about how she had attended that secret meeting in order to gain more resources for her child, one couldn’t help but sigh and feel that fate was simply a farce.

Leshert received a letter from the Pope and deliberately delayed the start of the war. On the night before the battle, the black-clothed monks who had secretly infiltrated Bianchi “stole” the little girl from the lord’s manor, along with a bigger child – Ingrid, the little girl’s cousin, who had been adopted by Lady Bianchi after her parents died. She tried hard to protect her little cousin who had lost all her support, and Lucrezia also cried and didn’t want to abandon her sister, so the two of them were taken away by the monks together.

Leshert promised to send them to Florence as soon as the war was over. The new lord of Bianchi obviously didn’t care about these two little girls. They didn’t even notice that someone was missing from the lord’s manor and were still focused on resisting Leshert. While the cannons were roaring, the two girls stayed together in Leshert’s tent.

“The war is over, and someone will take you to Florence soon,” Leshert told the little girl.

Hearing about Florence, Lucrezia’s eyes lit up: “What does Florence… look like?”

The handsome knight commander thought for a moment: “It’s the most beautiful city in the world, a place loved by God. You’ll like it.”

“Then…” Lucrezia hesitated for a moment, and asked softly, “What about His Holiness?”

The little girl’s voice trembled slightly, obviously, she wasn’t completely unaware of her mother’s fate in Florence.

Leshert was startled and looked back at Ingrid. The girl’s gaze was fixed on the ground, as if a rare and beautiful flower had bloomed there.

“It’s complicated,” Leshert finally replied. He squatted down to level his eyes with Lucrezia. The knight took off the little girl’s hood and tucked a few strands of hair that hadn’t been tied into a pearl hairpin behind her ear, looking directly into those round brown eyes, “How to judge a person… it’s a very, very difficult question. No matter what others say, it’s just their own opinion. Good people can also kill, and bad people can also save people. If you want to know, go and see for yourself, Miss Lucrezia.”

The handsome knight smiled, and his emerald green eyes seemed to be rippling like deep lake water. In that quiet and dark forest, the midday sun occasionally fell, scattering a piece of golden light on the lake’s surface. “…Follow the guidance of your heart, and no one will not love him.”

He heard the sound of a steam carriage, the hot gas in the pipe was suddenly released, and the long whistle was hoarse and high-pitched. A black-clothed monk walked to Ingrid’s side, nodded to her, and gestured to Leshert in the tent.

The Knight Commander then carefully stroked the little girl’s head. He was very unfamiliar with this action, obviously he had never had such intimate contact with the opposite sex before, even with a young girl.

“Go, Miss Lucrezia, may God bless you, and may your future be smooth under the protection of the Holy Father.”

The upright Knight Commander offered his sincere blessings.

The two girls were sent on a carriage to Florence, escorted by several black-clothed monks and soldiers dispatched by Leshert. Rafael received them at the papal palace a week later. Lucrezia was obviously a little afraid of him, which was understandable, but the little girl still kissed his ring respectfully.

“Don’t be afraid,” the handsome pope reached out and gently placed his hand on Lucrezia’s head. The little girl looked back dazedly and couldn’t help but sink into those pale purple eyes like a sea of gems. He was more beautiful than any character in any painting or story, and even a young child could feel that beauty that transcended reason. “I will protect you, just like your father.”

The hand of the overly handsome Pope on her head was a little cold. Lucrezia listened blankly, not yet understanding the weight of this promise. But in her future life, she would recall this day and this moment countless times, remembering the Pope’s hand on her head, which was not so warm but unshakeable.

Author’s Note

The Papal War will be briefly mentioned and will end soon. A new plot will follow! Baby Rafa is going to travel abroad!!!

References to the city looting content in this chapter:

Montefiore, S. S. (2012). Jerusalem: The Biography. Vintage Books.

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