Chapter 513: A Father's Love [END OF VOLUME]

Sylvester's resounding voice reverberated throughout the entire castle, echoing off the towering walls. The soldiers grew restless as Sylvester's halo materialized, and the legendary tales they had always heard seemed to come to life before their eyes.

Thud!

"Never has anyone dared raise their voice within a thousand miles of this castle!" A man descended from the sky, landing with a powerful thump. His body was clad in simple black robes, tightly wrapped around him. Possessing the same features of small eyes, he boldly confronted Sylvester. "Then why do you commit such a transgression?"

Sylvester continued emitting the halo without pause and responded with a brief and simple hymn.

♫Conquering your foes in the North,

I come with a heart full of warmth.

Bard, I'm called, ready to hear your oath.

To bless this land, bring your King forth.♫

The man, unmistakably a Grand Wizard and one of the primary guardians of the Kingdom, advanced toward Sylvester. His eyes burned with fury, but Sylvester remained unwavering.

Only when the man stood a hand's distance away from Sylvester did he speak.

"I am known as Tanza Ken, Your Holiness." He promptly knelt down, extending his hands forward in prayer. "Your presence graces this land. No other day can ever be this grand. Please, accompany me to the Royal Court."

'Of course, Warsong is more faithful than Masan. They've been battling against Masan for so long solely with the aid of the Church. Otherwise, Masan would have long ago conquered the entire West.'

Sylvester placed his hand upon Tanza Ken's head. "Lead the way, my brother in faith. I have pressing matters to discuss."

The man turned around and bellowed at the people. "Go! Sound the bugles! Raise the drums of celebration! The Descendant of Solis has blessed our land! Warsong shall revel in three days of festivities!"

The welcome Sylvester received was beyond his expectations. He had anticipated some level of doubt, mistrust, and perhaps even hostility. However, he found himself unable to question the man, for the aura of worship was stronger than ever.

'Did Niel not contact them?'

He maintained the decorum and followed Tanza into the buildings through the various winding hallways. It was splendid, as one would expect from a royal castle. However, it was distinct from other places. Unlike in the East, where most of the decorations were done through chandeliers, marbles, portraits, and ornaments, in Warsong, it was done using various written scrolls, scrolls of battles, and even battle armor placed in many locations.

The place did not boast expensive carpets either and featured finely polished wooden floors, despite the outer structure of the building being made of stones.

Soon enough, they arrived at a large sliding door guarded by two men. The two saluted Tanza and let them enter swiftly.

"First Father!" Tanza entered and knelt down before a small throne at the center of the reasonably large hall. It wasn't anything overpowering like Masan, and even the throne was simply perched on a tiny single-step staircase. Though the entire throne appeared to be made of gold, including the entire floor on which the throne sat. It had thick armrests and a large round backrest with thousands of tiny rune letters inscribed.

The King or Queen in Warsong was addressed as First Father or First Mother by the subjects, as the King was supposed to be the protector and provider of the people—making him the father of everyone. Of course, the Church was not expected to call him that, as to them, the first father is Solis.

"First Father, I present to you—God's Favored, Son of Solis, Lord's Bard, Grand Crusader, Slayer of Dragons, Destroyer of Empires, and the descendant of Solis—Saint Sylvester Maximilian of the Holy Land."

The hall was empty besides the soldiers and the royals. Sylvester looked ahead while standing on the red carpet leading to the throne. To his astonishment, there were two people sitting on the throne. On the left was sitting a boy no older than thirteen, in Warsong's royal attire and a peculiar seven-pointed hat.

Meanwhile, beside him was a woman in similar purple robes, but she was wearing a triangular hat with a black net that covered her face just enough to allow her to see or be seen slightly.

'And that's the Queen Mother.' Sylvester knew the woman held the power. But for official reasons, he had to address only the boy.

Sylvester lowered his head for a brief moment to show respect, for he had no need to kneel. "I heard much about the Warsong, the mighty Kingdom that defended against Masan and emerged victorious every time. But no longer do you need to clash, for Masan exists no more—the Mirmasan bloodline has been extinguished, and each of their Grand Wizards has turned into ash."

"Then why do you grace us here, Your Holiness?" The woman spoke.

"To see with whom you stand. The Holy Land has been taken by a heathen. The Pope is missing—traitors ravage the holiest of sites in our world as the long-hidden plots are unveiled. Tell me, Warsong, will you stand to protect the faith—" Sylvester didn't finish as the message had been delivered.

"Did you come here to threaten me?" The woman suddenly stood up.

"Inform is a better-suited word, Your Majesty. The battle lines can be removed; I've destroyed Pirate's Bliss on my way here. A new Golden Age is upon us with trade, peace, and friendship among all—the question is, will you accept? Or reject?" Sylvester did not sing any hymns in front of her as she was well aware of the Holy Land after years of cooperation. No amount of Holiness would work on her.

She began walking toward Sylvester with short strides. "My son, Omshi Warsong, is growing rapidly and gaining respect. In two years, he will come of age and assume responsibility for the Kingdom. I cannot make a decision that will jeopardize the land he is destined to govern."

Silently, she halted three feet in front of him and extended a folded parchment. Sylvester took it and unfolded it, only to be stunned.

He looked at her face and then back at the paper to read it under his breath. 'My little sister in all but blood, I'm afraid my time has come. If you discover this letter and I have departed from the light of this world, I implore you to lend your support to Sylvester Maximilian, my chosen and trusted successor. I have faith that he will initiate a Golden Age of the Faith, propelling our world forward with great strides. A more serene and prosperous future awaits us. Trust me, Nia—Your brother, Axel Tar Kreed.'

His eyes perused it again and again, searching for hidden clues, but found none. 'Pope and this woman share a bond akin to mine with Aurora? Now I understand how Warsong endured for so long—What I am to Princess Xylena, Pope was to this... Nia? But... he can't be dead... it's impossible for him to vanish without making any noise.'

Sylvester set fire to the letter in his hand and gazed at the woman before him. She had been staring at his face for several moments.

She turned around and summoned her son. "King Omshi, please come."

Like a happy little boy, the kid rushed to stand beside his mother. The woman took his hand and once again looked at Sylvester. "Your Holiness... I desire my son to inherit a thriving kingdom in a harmonious world—Bless us, I request you."

Suddenly, she began to kneel down, even making her son kneel before Sylvester. The two sank to their knees, clasping their hands in prayer.

"You are the blessed bard of the lord—there can be no other Pope but you in the kingdom of god." She spoke softly.

The guards in the room and the Grand Wizard also swiftly knelt down, equally astonished by their ruler's actions.

'I smell a tremendous amount of fear, anxiety, and hope with worship.' Sylvester attempted to gauge her sincerity. 'It makes sense. With the Pope gone, I am her last hope. The centuries of war must have taken a toll on them, both in terms of population and finances—all their grand appearances from the outside were a facade.'

Sylvester placed his hands upon their heads, imbuing them with light magic. "Rise, both of you. I am moved by your gesture. This devotion to the faith shall be forever remembered in the annals of history for generations to come."

Nia stood up, tears of relief welling in her eyes. "I will mobilize the army, Your Holiness."

'Ah! I just realized I've been called Holiness from the time I landed. So they already accept me as the Pope?'

"No need," Sylvester declined. "Remove the war front set with Sorland, the new Kingdom situated at your North. A new trade highway shall be constructed, and new shipping routes will commence operation. Warsong can access the markets of Marashia, and they can access the markets of Warsong. Arrange marriages between retired soldiers and widows—the greatest duty Warsong can perform for me is by prospering."

She clasped her hands and expressed gratitude repeatedly. "Thank you, Your Holiness. Warsong will forever be indebted. If there is anything you require for your battles, please never hesitate."

"Give me your hand." Sylvester extended her palm.

Without hesitation, she complied, although confusion filled her eyes.

Sylvester infused some of his magic into her body and examined her Solarium Signature. "Henceforth, I will be able to communicate with you even if I am situated ten thousand kilometers away. However, there is one thing I desire—You have a Grand Wizard named Dagorith Ling. I wish to bring him along."

The man was the ninja who warned Sylvester about a conspiracy against him when he was in King Highland's castle.

Why did he want him? The answer was very simple.

'Ninjas are fascinating. Once I learn their techniques, I wonder what I will be able to do with my elder magic.'

"Dagorith? Of course, Your Holiness."

With that, Sylvester prepared to live. "Then, I must retreat and prepare for war. May the Holy Light enlighten Warsong—May we all stand against the evil, forever strong."

"Amen!"

Heads bowed in reverence.

With that came an end to Sylvester's adventure in the West. Sadly, one after another, his life was such that continuous were fate's test.

...

During a time when friendships and faith were being tested in the Sol Continent, a ship hastily docked at the Royal Port of High Regnum, the imperial city of the Elven Kingdom of Alfia.

A black-haired, slender elf emerged from the ship, wearing a broad smile on his face. He strode proudly toward the Imperial castle, and the soldiers never stopped him. Visiting a few of his favorite food shops on his way, he swiftly entered the castle and found his elder brother.

Knock! Knock!

"Why are you in your room in the middle of the day?" Like a spoiled younger brother, Avanss entered after knocking twice. "Won't you even greet your little brother?"

"Avanss?!" A startled voice reverberated from within as the Elf King rose from his bed, his face appearing flushed as if he was out of breath.

Avanss smirked. "Still trying to find them? Well, I have better news for you. To make a long story short, I was captured by the Masan Empire and endured nearly a century in a cage there. That was until someone arrived and destroyed the Empire, liberating me with this very important letter that I definitely didn't read out of deadly curiosity.

King Rathagun was in no mood to smile, though he was undoubtedly horrified to learn what happened to his little brother. Still, he took the letter out of curiosity and noticed its broken seal.

"Haven't you read it? I don't have time. Why don't you summarize what's in it?"

Evans shrugged and walked over to a table with fruits. "Because it's better if you read it. As it directly concerns you—quite literally."

Sighing, King Rathagun opened it and unfolded the sheet of paper before reading it under his breath.

'Dear Father,'

Thud!

Just the first two words, and he fell to the bed, much to the amusement of Avanss, who laughed at it. "Continue reading, my brother. It's a letter from my savior—ah, such a beautiful lad. No wonder he's one of us."

Rathagun noticed his hands shaking, but despite all attempts, he could not control it. So he just continued.

[Dear Father,

I am Sylvester Maximilian, son of Xavia Maximilian. I was informed years ago that I am half-elf and that I am the son of THE elven King. For years we lived in fear of someone finding out, yet we thrived somehow.

Years we spent in the most powerful organization, ascending in the ranks and gaining respect. Yet, a few schemers got the best of me for once—Shadow of Masan was the one who defeated me in Sandwall. Now, the Shadow of Masan is dead, and the Masan Empire is fragmented into four. Many such adversaries emerged in the past, and all perished before me.

But this last time, my foe resides in the Holy Land, proclaiming to be the Pope. Misguided he is, for there can only be one true Pope—I, Sylvester Maximilian.

I do not ask for your help, nor do I request your backing. All I hope is that you can halt the Great War for one year, which will suffice for me to claim the highest throne. Once that occurs, perhaps there can be everlasting peace between our two realms—perhaps we can meet.

I don't know what kind of man you are, but as a monarch, I respect you and hope I can have that respect reciprocated.

Mum once said, 'Your father may be utterly dazzlingly handsome, but he's not the brightest.' So, Father, I hope you are as bright as my light for this once.

Your Son.]

Drip...!

Drip...!

Big, heavy tears fell on the sheet of paper, dampening it. The handsome King's face turned ugly as he unleashed all his concealed emotions. His eyes squeezed shut, nose held high, and mouth trembling, he clenched the paper and pressed it against his chest.

"Hehe..." He chuckled, looking like an unsightly mess. "Right, only Xavia would say that...my son."

Avanss, at the sight, smiled. "She's not wrong. Sylvester is leaps and bounds more blessed than you in beauty, brain, and brawn."

Letting go of his shame, King Rathagun continued to cry, but proudly now. "Of course...he's my son."

"So? What will you do?"

King Rathagun looked at his brother, determination returning to his face. "I wasn't there when Sylvester was born. I wasn't there when they were almost killed. I have let them down countless times—I won't lose them again."

Rathagun stood up and walked over to his study table to write.

"One year is nothing—even if the entire world is what he wants, I will help him take it."

[Next Volume - I Became The Pope]

[A/N: See King and Mother Queen of Warsong.]

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