Sylvester glanced around and noticed a few men in church robes, “Which monastery are you two from?”

The Clergymen were alerted and seemingly came out of their stupor. They immediately took to their knees after noticing his golden eyes and golden blonde hair. There were five of them, and they saluted him in unison.

“Your Holiness! May the Holy Light enlighten us!”

“We’re from Baron Redman’s land, Your Grace,” one of them explained afterward. “We were on our way home after buying supplies for the monastery.”

Sylvester smelled no lies and looked down at the woman, “Where is she from? Who is this man, and what led to his demise?”

“She’s from my village, Your Holiness,” Just then, a young man walked forward, donning casual commoner clothing and looking decently bright. “Rivereign is the name of our village. But I don’t know her personally. I have only seen her a few times.”

Getting no answers, he decided to get to the bottom of it.

“Then go to Count Folksire’s keep and call him here. Inform him that Pope Sylvester summons him to the road—the longer he keeps me waiting, the more my doubts shall arise,” Sylvester ordered the five Priests. “Leave!”

The five men scurried and cleaved through the crowd to leave. However, that wasn’t enough, as Sylvester still held some disdain for the Duchy of Ironstone. It had been the cause of too many problems ever since he started his career.

Count Ranthburg at the start, then Prince Daemon, the Witch, all the nobles rebelling, and now this. The land appeared cursed with incompetency, sin, and corruption.

He sat down beside the corpse of the man and raised his palm towards the crying woman. He spilled some golden light onto her, which did nothing but make her feel warm, giving her some semblance of hope and calming her down.

Closing his eyes, Sylvester chose to speak with Cardinal Suprima mentally. As per the standard protocol he set, he had the Solarium Signature of all Cardinals recorded in his mind.

“Cardinal Moris,” he spoke into the mind of a previous Bishop he had known since his younger days, a man who was just and had admired Sylvester when he was young. “This is a summon by the voice of His Holiness, Sylvester Maximilian. Immediately present yourself at the Holy Road, near the Riveridge Village.”

Instead of talking, he chose to act as if this was an automated summon. In any case, the Cardinal Suprima’s residence was now in the Yggdrasil School of Magic, so it was going to take him some time to arrive.

Thankfully, by the time Sylvester opened his eyes again, the woman had stopped crying.

“Sister, what happened?” He asked softly.

The woman, middle-aged, not that neatly dressed, with signs of poverty evident on her dry, bony face, looked up. “Demon… Demon rules our land.”

‘Hatred,’ Sylvester smelled it.

“How did Count Folksire do this?”

Her eyes glared red just at the mention of the name. “He deserves to die a thousand times. How could he do this? This is torture… this is… Why?”

She wasn’t in her right mind and aimlessly spoke, unable to tell him exactly what had happened. But he still tried to gather whatever information he could from her mumbling.

“Taking more than double the tax… that’s not what the new law said. How could we pay so much? We spent it all on our son. How could we?”

‘Corruption?’

“Where is your son?”

“He is at the School of Magic… Our son is a wizard!” A faint, fond smile appeared on her face, but it quickly turned into anger. “Not enough for the Count… Adept Wizard talent is nothing in his eyes.”

That was enough for Sylvester to make sense of the situation.

Yet again, he found himself wondering if allowing the nobility to continue its existence was the right thing to do. Noble lords held significant amounts of power, so much so that unless a bigger noble, the monarch, or a powerful Clergyman appears, their crimes go unpunished.

Meanwhile, in a normal pyramid administration, a Police could exist who, in ideal situations, would treat nobles and commoners the same way by law.

For now, all he could do was wait and let the Count come. However, the crowd only got bigger. Seeing the Pope in the wild wasn’t a regular occurrence, so they all gossiped in suppressed voices, some in awe and some in doubt if this was even the real Pope.

Just like that, three hours passed, and before the Count, Cardinal Suprima arrived, rushing and panting on his galloping horse. He speared through the crowd while shouting and jumped directly into a kneeling position before Sylvester.

“Your Holiness! What happened? Did someone commit heresy?” Cardinal Moris asked, anxious to know what happened.

“Let the man speak for himself,” Sylvester got up to his feet and watched a contingent of fully armored soldiers, about three dozen, arrive at the scene. They were all on armored horses, with the Count at the front, also armed.

“Halt!” The Count roared, raising his expensive metallic armor-covered arm. He lifted his visor and looked at Sylvester. “Greetings, Pope.”

‘Lack of respect, no scent of worship, and quite a lot of hatred,’ Sylvester smelled the scent of the man’s emotions.

In honesty, the Count left him surprised. He expected it to be some old, fat oaf who thought too highly of himself. But here, he saw a man probably in his late thirties, looking muscular, cleanly shaven, having the discipline of a warrior. There was a sign of higher intelligence in his eyes.

“Did you force your subjects to pay more than double taxation?” Sylvester got to the point right away.

Count Folksire got down from his horse and looked at the dead body first, then at the crowd, and finally at Sylvester. “I am Count Rupert Folksire. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pope Sylvester. And yes, I enforced double taxation. Not because I wanted to, but because it was a must.”

‘Straight to the point? Does he seriously believe he can outwit me?’ Sylvester stared at the Count with interest.

“And why was it necessary?”

“Because of you, Pope Sylvester.”

“…”

The people gasped, and Cardinal Suprima jumped to stand between Sylvester and the Count.

He pushed the Count back, scolding him, “How can you speak like that to His Holiness? Do you have no shame? No fear of the Lord?”

“Calm down,” Sylvester gestured, silencing everyone. “Count Folksire, that is a very interesting conclusion you came to. Care to elaborate?”

“My father was a coward, I am not,” Full of disdain, the Count barked. “You wrote the economic policies, taking into account only the Kings and Queens that you share a table with. A mere thirty percent tax on all produce is not what we agreed to. Even from that thirty percent, the Monarchy and the Church take away twenty percent.

“That is not even slightly close to what we nobles used to earn, Pope Sylvester. So, I had no choice but to tax them twice at sixty percent to ensure my living. I’ve met many more nobles, and none of us support your tax laws. I suggest His Holiness reconsider it, or I fear there will be a rebell—Ah!”

Crack!

Sylvester’s palm suddenly found its way to Count Folksire’s face, grabbing it so firmly that even his steel helmet started to crush around his skull. Soon, the man’s feet were off the ground as he dangled in the air.

“Are you threatening a rebellion? Is that what has become of the nobility in the Duchy of Ironstone?” Sylvester questioned with contempt.

“He’s lying!” Shouted a man from the crowd.

“He takes more than that!” Another added.

Sylvester looked at the crowd, “Be more specific. How much does he take from you?”

“He takes seventy-two percent of all our produce!” The smart man from before added. “He first takes thirty percent officially; then he takes sixty percent from the leftover seventy percent.”

Sylvester looked back at the Count in his grasp, “See, you were lying to me. Not so honest, are you now?”

“Ghk!” Count Folksire struggled to kick his feet. “S-So what? I am the Count… I am the lord… You cannot meddle in noble affairs. The Queen does not bother, so what right do you have? A Pope is not the Emperor.”

Sylvester nodded firmly, agreeing with him. “Indeed, I cannot interfere as the Pope. But, you seem to be forgetting that I am also the Field Marshal of Gracia, which puts me above you, allowing me to judge you. Furthermore, by abusing the people who are considered Children of Solis by law, you have broken Articles Four, Four A, and Four B. I have enough jurisdiction, Count.”

Thud!

Sylvester slammed the man onto the ground hard. As he fell flat on his back, he coughed out blood, and his helmet came off, revealing his long black hair and quite the handsome face, which now lay ruined in crimson.

“Lord Fol—”

Three dozen armed knights tried to rush to their liege and help him.

Clank!

But Sylvester raised his hand towards them and used Electromagnetic manipulation. With that, the sound of multiple twigs snapping echoed, and the men fell to the ground like dolls, the bones in their legs broken, gravity on their bodies multiplied many folds.

Bam!

Sylvester stepped on the Count’s chest. “The strong rule the weak, and that is the law of the world. But nowhere is it written that the strong can bully the weak. Yes, I know the nobles receive less money now. But while all the share of the money you make sits in your treasury, the money the Royal Treasury and the Church earns is spent on the welfare of the people of this realm—roads, food for the poor, fertilizer subsidization, repairing villages, towns, and cities—all that cost is not borne by you, but us.”

“Aaargh… Stay away!” The Count finally lost all his pride and screamed like a dying pig. Of course, Chonky slapped him a few times secretly as well, which scared him more. “Look, everyone… Look at your Pope! He’s going to kill me.”

Sylvester looked at the people and then back at the Count. “You want them to pity you? Why should they when it’s the Queen and the Church that pay for their children’s free education in the monastery, where they get two meals a day so these people can work—why should they pity a man who only knows how to take all his life, and never give.”

Crunch!

Count Folksire’s ribcage began to crack, but Sylvester only pressed enough to puncture his lungs so he would bleed very slowly to death, not making it seem that he killed him.

“Cardinal Suprima, the Count, and his entire family are, from this instance, removed from the registry of nobles. They shall be common-class civilians, all their property and money shall be confiscated, and only four years’ worth of a carpenter’s pay shall be provided to him as a starting capital. Enforce this with the help of the Inquisitors,” Sylvester decreed while stepping back. “Since only one season has passed, return the overtaxed money to the people from the treasury.”

“Who will be the new Count, Your Holiness?”

Sylvester quickly made a decision, “Queen Isabella will appoint someone soon. Until then, you will temporarily manage the County.”

With something big in mind, Sylvester decided to continue the journey quickly. However, he noticed the dead body again and felt pity as the woman wasn’t going to be able to survive on her own and pay her son’s fees—the young wizard would have to return home.

“Cardinal, I will pay for her son’s fee. Inform the School of Magic and warn them of the consequences if they dare mistreat him.”

With that, he receded from the crowd, heading to his carriage. The people parted on their own and made way, but then one of them clapped, which started a chain. Like heavy raindrops falling from the sky, the massive crowd cheered at the justice served, a noble punished by someone. Not just a no-name Baron, but a powerful Count.

Sylvester spoke with his five students as they followed behind. “No matter how powerful you may get, you must walk amongst the people and hear their plights from time to time, for it reveals the hidden crimes. Do you know what will happen after this?”

“Change the laws?” Emara asked. “Nobles will always be unsatisfied if they aren’t given something.”

“A new Inquisition will begin.” Sylvester shook his head, a dangerous air emanating from him. “Now, the Holy Land will investigate every noble in Sol. Heads will roll, many ancient noble houses will vanish—there is no place for corruption, and it is one of the highest sins in the Constitution.”

Finally, the crowd let his carriage move and cross, reaching closer to the Holy Land. But with the reins in hand, his mind constantly pondered over something.

‘Abolishing nobility is the most logical path to take. But they already call me a dictator. If I do more, they’ll call me an Emperor, a conqueror—I have to find a natural path to end nobility.’

Once again, Sylvester the schemer had to take the front seat, for this time, absolute power could earn him results, but at a grave cost. A cost he didn’t wish to pay as stabilization of the realm mattered more.

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