Book 4: Chapter 47 (1/2)
William sat on his wooden chair with a pale expression. In front of him, there was a redheaded woman, Mary, who wore a pitch-black set of armor. Behind her, there were twelve men lying on the ground. The majority of them were unconscious, but the few who weren’t were curled up in the fetal position while quietly groaning. One of them was even choking back muffled sobs. William had seen what Mary did to the twelve keepers of the Lord, and judging from how she was standing, he’d suffer the same fate next. “W-wait,” he said. His voice was cracking, but he didn’t pay it any mind. “I’m just an ordinary person compared to them. If you hit me that hard, I’ll die.”
Mary tilted her head. “But you seemed like the leader.”
“In a sense, I am the leader—wait, wait, wait!” William stuck his hands out, hoping to protect his face as he curled into a ball, falling out of his chair in the process. “I’m the leader because the keepers have no rank in the church! They’re shadows, people that aren’t supposed to exist!”
Mary retracted her fist and frowned. She knew all about having shadows, underlings that would listen to her every order, but this man’s words confused her even further. “How do you control them if you’re so weak?” she asked. “Aren’t you afraid of them killing you to take your position?”
“They would never do something like that,” William said. “They’re the keepers of the Lord, the descendants of the twelve apostles of Jesus Christ. They’ll never betray the pope as long as he works in the church’s best interest.”
Mary blinked. “Is this pope very strong?”
“He’s very strong,” William said, “but only politically. If you’re talking about his physical strength, then honestly, he might be even weaker than me.”
Mary’s brow furrowed, and she turned to look at the fallen men behind her. The furrow in her brow deepened when she realized none of them were in any state to answer her questions. She turned back to the archbishop and crossed her hands over her chest. “I declare myself the new pope.”
“T-that’s … not something you can declare,” William said in a tiny voice. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice under Mary’s cold gaze.
Mary snorted. “Didn’t you say you’d submit before me? Do you disagree with my position?”
“N-no,” William said and shook his head. “You’re the new pope. All hail Pope Mary.”
Mary nodded. “Spread the word. I’m the new pope. Anyone who disagrees can come visit me personally, and I’ll convince them.” She turned around and nudged one of the still conscious men with her foot. “You’re fine with that, yes?”
The groaning man clutched his side, the area that Mary had nudged. “Yes, you’re the new pope. We don’t have the strength to disagree with you.” He rolled onto his back and sat up. “You’ve completely convinced us to work under you.”