Chapter 58: Invitation to a Duel
Rafael sat in the council chamber’s reception room, blowing on a steaming cup of red tea. The steam formed a thin layer of mist in front of him. When the mist dissipated, he saw Ferrante walking through the decorative archway and leaning down slightly.
“Holy Father, the royal guard has entered.”
Rafael turned his head. “With weapons?”
“With weapons,” Ferrante confirmed.
“It seems that Her Majesty is anxious… But it shouldn’t be this early – is there trouble in Assyria?” the Pope speculated, setting down the porcelain cup in his hand. “Well, it’s time for us to make our entrance.”
As soon as he finished speaking, there was a polite knock at the door, three times in total, each neither light nor heavy.
Ferrante went to open the door. A queen’s servant, dressed in a fine uniform, bowed to him. “By order of Her Majesty, His Holiness is requested join the council in the chamber.”
“Understood.” The dark-haired monk’s voice was deep and husky from puberty. He closed the door and returned to his Holy Father, who was already standing in front of a mirror examining his appearance. A crown of crimson velvet was placed near him on a low stool half a person’s height.
The intertwined thorns of the crown gleamed with the cold light of age, and a circle of tiny colorless gems was embedded in the base. The gold crown bore the marks of age, with scratches from years of use, but this did not diminish its status as the oldest crown in the world.