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A brawl broke out during the sacred mass.
The one who got beaten up was none other than Bruno, a member of the Order of St. John, renowned even within the Vatican.
And it was by me, the son of William Marshal, the embodiment of chivalry, a new prophet recognized by the Pope himself, and a knight who fought valiantly in the Crusades.
The shock was so overwhelming that silence fell for a moment, but only for a moment.
Naturally, chaos erupted in the chapel.
“What, what, what are you doing?!”
“Sir Marshal! What on earth are you thinking…?”
“Get a doctor! Sir Bruno has lost consciousness!”
Ignoring the commotion around me, I calmly retrieved the glove I had thrown at Bruno’s face.
Bishop Pietro, who had been watching the whole scene, approached me, feigning ignorance and shaking his head.
“My goodness! What on earth happened here?”
“I challenged Sir Bruno to a duel. But since he seems too busy to set a date, we’ll arrange it once he wakes up.”
“A duel? Sir Marshal, this is the Pope’s residence. You can’t just have a bloody duel here…”
“True, but Sir Bruno insulted my comrades who fought alongside me, risking their lives. I could have tolerated insults directed at me, but I couldn’t stand by while my comrades were dishonored.”
“Surely, there were quieter ways to handle this. Now it’s just going to escalate.”
Bishop Pietro scolded me with a stern expression, yet he kept glancing at my face, trying to gauge my reaction.
He was trying hard to hide his true feelings, but he couldn’t completely mask his surprise.
After all, who would have expected me to resort to violence so suddenly?
I spoke in a deliberately firm tone, ignoring Pietro’s concerns.
“Whether this escalates or not, I never acted with such considerations in mind. My father taught me that a knight should only concern himself with what is right and what is wrong. Nothing else.”
“Oh… Did Sir William Marshal really say that?”
Of course, he didn’t. But who’s going to verify that with William?
And since William is known as the epitome of chivalry, Pietro seemed more impressed than skeptical.
“As I mentioned, I can laugh off insults directed at me. But as a Crusader and a faithful servant of the Lord, there are two things I cannot overlook.”
“One of them being the insult to your comrades?”
“Yes. And the other is, of course, blasphemy against God. No matter who it is, I won’t break these principles. If it causes a stir, so be it. I’ll accept it.”
“Well… if you’re that resolute, there’s nothing more I can say.”
Loyalty to comrades and faith in God.
These are the driving forces behind the character I’ve crafted, Edward Marshal.
And with so many witnesses, today’s incident will spread quickly.
“In any case, once Sir Bruno regains consciousness, I’ll settle the insult to my comrades.”
“Wait, you really intend to duel?”
“Didn’t I make that clear?”
“No, no, no! That would be disastrous!”
Exactly. If the duel happens and Bruno dies, it would be a disaster.
So do your best to stop me.
I’ll continue to play the role of the unyielding knight with all my might.
“If I don’t resolve this insult with a sword, my comrades who died fighting the infidels won’t rest in peace in heaven. I have a duty to uphold their honor.”
“I understand Sir Marshal’s noble intentions. But if you two really duel, it could escalate into a conflict between the Knights Templar and the Order of St. John. That would be too much.”
“If I were afraid of escalation, I wouldn’t have thrown a punch here. I don’t want to be someone who hesitates because the opponent is strong or because things might get complicated.”
“Uh…”
Bishop Pietro’s face darkened.
His frustration at having complicated matters was palpable.
“Sir Marshal, while you’re right to do what you must, there are the positions of the Knights Templar and the Order of St. John to consider.”
“If I say I drew my sword for my insulted comrades, the Grand Master will surely understand. If I don’t, I’d be reprimanded.”
“Ah… I see.”
There’s a fine line between a fool and someone with firm convictions.
Someone with firm convictions understands what others say but refuses to compromise, much like a fool who doesn’t understand at all.
In fact, a fool can at least be reasoned with until they understand, so they’re not entirely hopeless.
But I, Edward Marshal, who prides himself on his stubbornness, won’t bend once I’ve made up my mind.
Bishop Pietro, realizing the character I’ve created, was at a loss, his eyes darting around.
He couldn’t sway me by invoking the names of the orders.
Realizing this, Pietro finally resorted to mentioning the highest authority to persuade me.
“But Sir Marshal, if this continues, it could trouble His Holiness the Pope.”
“What? How so…?”
“Both the Knights Templar and the Order of St. John are devout servants of the Lord. If a conflict arises between the orders, it could escalate into a clash between the religious communities, which would naturally burden His Holiness.”
“Ah… I hadn’t considered that.”
“Yes, yes. So, let me report this incident to His Holiness and request his mediation. While I understand your anger, I hope you’ll consider His Holiness’s position and calm your wrath.”
I didn’t relax my stern expression but slowly nodded.
My actions, as if shouting that I’m holding back my anger for the Pope’s sake, seemed to relieve Pietro.
In truth, Bruno was only testing me at the Pope’s request, but now he might end up dead, which would be quite unfair.
Once the full story is revealed, neither the Pope nor Bishop Pietro, nor the Benedictine Order, will come out looking good.
“If my actions trouble His Holiness, I can’t stubbornly persist. If there’s a sincere apology and effort, I’ll reconsider.”
“Yes, yes. That’s very wise. Let’s resolve this quickly. I need to report this to His Holiness anyway, so I’ll convey your intentions as well. I’ll go ahead, and you can follow at your own pace.”
Bishop Pietro bowed politely and hurried off.
I followed leisurely, hands clasped behind my back, curious to see how this would unfold.
Pope Clement III was left speechless by Bishop Pietro’s frantic report.
“He threw a punch? During mass preparations?”
“Yes. And he challenged Sir Bruno to a duel in front of everyone.”
“What kind of provocation could have led to this…?”
Hearing the details, the Pope shook his head, unable to close his gaping mouth.
What is this? Is he truly mad?
Challenging someone to a duel is one thing, but throwing a punch first seems to undermine his own justification.
“Sir Marshal confided that he couldn’t tolerate the insult to his comrades. I nearly lost my mind trying to persuade him to cancel the duel.”
“Well… he truly lives for the moment.”
Someone who calculates their every move wouldn’t react like that.
It seems my suspicions were unfounded.
Having heard the full account from Pietro, Pope Clement III warmly waved at the approaching Marshal.
“Welcome. It’s unsettling to have such an unexpected commotion on a day of celebration.”
“Not at all. I’m more sorry for causing you concern, Your Holiness.”
“No, as the head of the Vatican, I’m more sorry for this unfortunate incident. I’m grateful you considered my position, making it easier to resolve.”
Marshal, looking genuinely apologetic, bowed his head.
If I dismissed even this as an act, I’d truly be considered paranoid.
However, there’s still one nagging question I can’t ignore.
Pope Clement III decided it was better to ask directly.
“By the way, considering how you revealed the message from God, I thought you were more calculated and strategic. Was that also guided by divine instruction?”
“No, I intended to reveal the message immediately. But Quartermaster Alberic, who accompanied me from the Crusades, strongly advised against it. He said a proper stage was needed for more people to believe my words.”
“Quartermaster Alberic?”
“He’s a noble from the Count of Dammartin’s family. Wise and devout, he’s someone I trust and rely on the most.”
The Count of Damartin hailed from a prestigious family long associated with the royal cafes of France. It was no surprise that someone from such a lineage would be well-versed in intrigue and political maneuvering.
“So, it was all a meticulously planned performance,” he thought.
There was no doubt that Marshall had received divine guidance. However, without gathering such prominent figures in one place, the impact would never have been as significant. This led to suspicions that Marshall might have orchestrated something behind the scenes, but now the mystery was solved.
It seemed a rather extraordinary strategist was at Marshall’s side.
“Alberic… I’ll have to remember that name.”
If only he had asked from the start, he wouldn’t have gone in circles, complicating matters with unnecessary doubts.
Pope Clement III, concealing his bittersweet thoughts, offered a gentle smile to the awkwardly standing Marshall.
“Having a wise person by your side is a blessing. But if you don’t cultivate the habit of thinking for yourself, you might regret it later.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
“Yes, yes. In life, there are times when you must view people and things from a broader perspective. Especially for those who lead many, it’s essential to possess such insight. It’s not cunning; it’s wisdom. If you don’t mind, I could offer you some meaningful advice. What do you think?”
“I’ve never lived that way before, so I’m not sure I can manage on my own. Even today’s events show that. If Your Holiness would be my shepherd, I would follow you like a lamb.”
With those words, Marshall knelt on one knee, bowing reverently.
His loyalty and reverence for the Pope were genuine. What could have been a disaster turned out better than expected.
Now, with the veil of suspicion lifted, Clement III didn’t bother to hide the bright smile on his lips. He had secured the perfect piece, one that could be guided to act according to his plans. How could he not relish this joy?
After all, Marshall was bowing his head, unable to see Clement’s expression. Yet, Clement III overlooked one obvious fact: just as Marshall couldn’t see his face, he too couldn’t see the expression on Marshall’s lowered face.