Julius thought back to the first time they met, when the boy was barely up to his waist. Now, looking at the young man who stood beside him, even he, who was never one to dwell on the past, couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret over the passing of time.

    The child in his memory, who was naturally cold and cunning after being hardened by life, had gradually transformed into this gentle, ethereal man. Since Rafael had returned from exile to Florence, all those sharp edges, that cynicism and ruthlessness, seemed to have been completely stripped away. He adopted the polished manners, the gentle elegance, the aristocratic air and dignified smile that the nobles of Florence liked, becoming as much a living painting in the gallery as any of the portraits on its walls.

    These were all the results of Julius’s teachings. The older mentor had taught his student everything, from how to treat others, how to smile, how to become “one of our own” with the nobles, and how to become a thorough “blue-blood” from the inside out. But sometimes, looking at the golden-haired young man bathed in light, he would feel dazed – was this person really his Rafael?

    He had a perfect student, a perfect representative for the Portia family, yet he wasn’t as happy as he thought he would be.

    It was odd.

    Not until their meeting after the coronation did he realize what had changed. Not until he descended the long staircase of the Palazzo Riccardi and walked towards the young Pope, who stood in the magnificent hall and looked back at him, calm, proud, and unmoved, waiting for him to approach – just like a monarch awaiting his subject.

    In that instant of their gaze meeting, he realized that something had changed.

    Uncontrollable, unpredictable changes.

    That sharp, cold Rafael, the beggar and thief who had clawed his way out of the slums, the natural-born hunter who had dared to take a knife and murder the head of the Portia family at the age of twelve, the untamed wild wolf – he had returned with a rage of the flames whose source could not be traced.No?v(el)B\\jnn

    After so many years, Julius once again felt that thrilling sensation.

    This wonderful feeling suddenly made him much more tolerant towards Rafael than ever before.

    “Rafael,” Julius lowered his voice. His voice was naturally deep, and when he spoke so softly, the melodious waltz almost drowned out his words. Rafael frowned and unconsciously turned his head slightly to look at him. Julius was also looking at him, and Rafael was caught off guard and suddenly plunged into a deep purple lake.

    “It’s not a good idea for you to leave the Portia family now. You know very well that it’s not just the Portia family, but the other twelve lords are also eyeing the position of Pope. Don’t the cardinals also want to ascend the throne of Saint Leah? You’ve been smart since you were a child. You knew all this when you were thirteen.”

    Rafael looked into his eyes briefly and was burned by the frank and naked sincerity in his eyes. He quickly turned his head away with a stiff expression.

    Julius had never shown such a vulnerable expression. For this man who was good at disguising himself and used to being strong, such open honesty was a huge sign of weakness.

    Before the death of Pope Vitalian III, Rafael had spent more time with his biological father than with Julius. As the Pope was at the center of the power struggle, Rafael had access to the most authentic information. The Pope was also generous in cultivating this child. Although he was still young, in order to be closer to his father, he had studied with almost manic intensity. Even adults might not possess such firm determination and perseverance.

    Therefore, although he was nominally a student of Julius at the Florence Seminary, Rafael had not spent a particularly long time there. Perhaps it was because Julius had seen him at his most wretched, at his absolute worst, that he was always instinctively more gentle and affectionate around Julius.

    Naturally, Julius would then become more forceful.

    It was only after the death of Pope Vitalian III, when Rafael’s life was turned upside down again, that the two of them gradually grew closer.

    But even when they were close, Julius had never shown him such an expression.

    The corners of Rafael’s mouth tightened, and he began to wonder if this was another one of Julius’s disguises?

    Julius, not knowing what he was thinking, continued: “I hope—no, I beg you—”

    It was the first time he had ever uttered such an unfamiliar word, so he felt a little awkward, but he himself did not expect that he actually managed to say it so fluently.

    “I beg you, Rafa, to return to Portia’s arms,” ??the head of Portia held the cane he always carried with him in one hand, his knuckles clenched so tightly that they turned white. He himself did not notice this, “Or, come back to me. Not only does Portia need you, but you need Portia too.”

    Rafael was genuinely surprised this time. He looked at Julius meaningfully. Faced with the request of this possible murderer, he felt no other emotion but slight surprise.

    So Julius could also say the word “beg”?

    “Alright, I admit that Portia needs Sistine I.” Julius caught the fleeting abnormality in Rafael’s eyes, but before he could investigate further, it disappeared, so he changed his tone and said gently, “But you have to admit that with Portia’s help, you will be able to sit more securely on the throne of Saint Leah. As for the confession you want-“

    Julius paused, observing Rafael’s expression for a moment. Not finding anything unusual, he continued, “I will tell you everything you want to know, without concealment – on the condition that it doesn’t harm Portia’s interests.”

    A conditional promise was more real and credible.

    How rare, Rafael thought with a hint of irony. In his previous life, he trusted Julius too much, so he had never heard Julius speak so honestly to him.

    “As a token of my sincerity, I’ll tell you why I went to the Palazzo Riccardi. It’s related to your father.” Julius took a golden goblet filled with wine from a passing servant’s tray. Waiting for the servant to leave, he continued, “Pope Vitalian III was murdered. You know that.”

    Of course Rafael knew.

    It was a bit funny that both pair of father and son popes ended up being murdered.

    But Pope Vitalian III was better off than he was, because his death was not concealed. The Papal Palace admitted the Pope’s death. He died on a tour, his throat slit by a pagan with a dagger. This incident caused a frenzy among all the believers on the continent, and the purge of pagans reached its peak at that time. Tens of thousands of pagans died in the aftermath of this disaster.

    “There were doubts about his death. I suspected that Tondolo might know something, so I went to ask him. But the old man was very tight-lipped, and I really didn’t get anything out of him. The reason I took Redrick with me was also for this very reason. He was more suitable than you to see Tondolo.”

    Julius’ words were subtle, but Rafael understood them instantly, After all, he was the illegitimate son of Pope Vitalian III, never publicly acknowledged, while Redrick was that man’s legitimate son.

    Rafael sneered. He didn’t feel anything about this matter, nor did he feel any inferiority complex as an illegitimate child. Perhaps he had once, but that feeling had quickly passed. It seemed like only Redrick and his brothers had ever cared.

    Upon hearing this, Rafael immediately lost all interest: “Is that all you want to say? You came to me so urgently, are you worried that some lord will try to win me over? Or perhaps...”

    The young pope pondered for a moment, then broke into a strange smile. The cunning and cruelty of old seemed to seep out from beneath his skin. He looked at Julius almost mockingly. “Are the lords getting restless? Do they want to use me against the Portias?”

    That was the only reason why the head of the Portia family would be so eager to approach him at this farewell party.

    Julius’s quiet smile was a sign of agreement.

    “This is beneficial for the Papal Palace as well, isn’t it? You won’t have to go through them to collect taxes from the Papal States anymore, and no one will be able to call the shots in the Papal States that belong to you. Portia is your backing, your pillar, the flowers beside your throne – we pledge our loyalty to you.”

    The head with long iron-gray hair bowed towards the young Pope.

    He was right. The lords who had carved up most of the land of the Papal States were thorns in the eyes of successive popes. It would naturally be a great thing if these big trees entrenched in the Papal States could be eradicated.

    From then on, Rafael’s papal bulls could be circulated smoothly throughout the Papal States, taxes and land would be collected by the Papal Court, and Portia would became the sole papal agent.

    It was a win-win situation for both sides.

    Rafael had no reason to refuse.

    The golden-haired, purple-eyed pope slowly extended his left hand, the papal ring on his thumb gleaming.

    The head of the Portia family lifted that hand and gently kissed the ring, pledging the Portia’s loyalty.

    This scene occurred in plain sight, and everyone witnessed it. They immediately realized what it meant and were greatly shocked.

    The Portias had declared their allegiance to Sistine I?!