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Listening to the words of the two nuns who were taking care of her, the girl named Theresa took a deep breath and rubbed her unexpectedly cold hands.
PS1: Some people have already guessed that the Pope is Theresa May. The Thirteen Courts and the religious power of Rome are mainly based on the Benzema.
Chapter 297 The Fall of Saint Stephen's Crown: Capter 13 The Holy See of Rome (Seeking Votes)
“Julia, a war has just broken out in the North, why didn’t anyone tell me about it!” Theresa frowned slightly, looking at the two kneeling beside her with some dissatisfaction.
“No! Lady Theresa, there is no war. The Apennines are as peaceful as ever.” Sister Julia stood up, looking at the Holy See with a smile. Her words were full of affection, as if she regarded Theresa as a child.
“How long are you going to keep lying to me! This morning, while I was listening to people confessing in the prayer room of St. Peter’s Basilica, someone mentioned that a war broke out in Lombardy six months ago! And I also noticed that the population of Rome is larger than I’ve seen before! They must all be refugees seeking the protection of our Vatican.” Unfortunately, Theresa didn’t seem to believe the nun’s words; she had her own opinions and ideas.
“Lady Theresa! Although we don’t know where you heard these baseless rumors, we want to say that we have not deceived you. All members of the Jesuit order remain your hand, faithful servants who bring you and the Lord faith and glory.” Julia looked at the girl in front of her with a serious expression. Although the other party was the most venerable Pope in the Catholic world, she had no respect for her whatsoever. To them, the Pope was nothing more than a stamp and tool to be manipulated.
“Okay, I understand, Julia, I’m sorry.” Theresa shrank back, standing there in fear, her body trembling slightly, and her bright, clear blue eyes didn’t even dare to look the two nuns in the eye.
“My lord, it’s wonderful that you understand. As long as you play your role well, you will always be the noble Holy See…” Julia’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, but she didn’t smile for long before her body fell to the ground like a puppet with a broken string.
"Who!" Julia's companion, upon seeing Julia fall, lifted the skirt of her nun's habit and pulled a sharp magical dagger from her thigh, surveying the somewhat empty and dimly lit chapel hall.
Unfortunately, at this moment, apart from the sound of wind passing through the corridor and swirling around the pillars, there was no other noise.
"Was this your doing, little brat?" Julia's companion glared angrily at the girl in the white robe, her words filled with nothing but rage. If it weren't for the need to maintain a facade of friendliness, she might have attacked the girl right then and there.
"It wasn't me!" The nun, holding a dagger, approached the girl, who was already pale with fright, step by step.
"It really wasn't me!" Theresa shook her head, then backed away in fear, bumping into Julia who was already lying on the ground.
“It’s blood…” Theresa looked at the scarlet, viscous liquid on her hand, and all the fear, grievances, and resentment in her heart surged out like a wild horse that had broken free and a flood that had been released.
"How dare you scheme against us! Die, you damned puppet brat!" The nun's magical dagger flashed with white light, clearly indicating that her weapon was already fully charged.
"Grandpa, help me!" As the girl closed her eyes and called out the name that held immense weight in her heart, the attack that should have come as expected ultimately failed to materialize.
Theresa slowly opened her eyes. Standing before her was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. At this moment, the woman's weapon, which resembled a Roman dagger, had already pierced the nun's abdomen from behind. As blood gushed from the wound, the nun's movements suddenly came to a standstill.
She struggled to turn around, but the blonde woman seemed not to give her the chance. She deftly drew her dagger and gracefully kicked the corpse to the ground.
"I'm sorry to have startled you, Lady Theresa." The blonde woman's voice carried an inexplicable gentleness. Although this was Theresa's first meeting with her, she felt an inexplicable sense of warmth. The intelligent Theresa understood perfectly well that this gentleness was completely different from the affected manner of the two Jesuit nuns sent to monitor her earlier.
"Sister, what's your name?" Theresa obediently rubbed her slightly trembling and cramped calves, looking at her savior with joy.
“Reporting to Your Excellency, my name is Durandal, and I am a battle nun of the Thirteenth Division under Bishop Otto. My number is zero.” Durandal’s calm tone revealed no emotion, but her tone and demeanor were enough to reassure Theresa.
"By the way, sir, your acting just now was truly superb, unless your legs were actually cramping." Durandal gently patted the silver-haired girl's head, his tone slightly teasing.
"Don't touch my head, or I won't grow taller." Theresa pouted, looking quite dissatisfied, but her words didn't seem to shake the silver-haired older sister's determination to continue petting her.
"I'll get angry if you touch me again!" As the spasm subsided, Theresa stood up with her hands on her hips.
"Alright! Alright! I won't touch it anymore, I won't touch it anymore." Durandal's lips curled up slightly as she looked at His Holiness the Pope, who was much shorter than her and, though petite, still exuded an air of majesty.
"Ahem! What are Grandpa's next plans?" Theresa looked at the woman before her with a serious expression, awaiting the next instructions. Having killed the guard, it was tantamount to breaking with the Jesuits and the Black-Robed Pope. However, even with the combined strength of the Thirteen Courts and Theresa herself, it was clearly insufficient to contend with the Jesuits, who had controlled the Papacy for a thousand years.
Even Theresa understood these things, so how could the shrewd and calculating Bishop Otto not understand them?
"The next steps will require your cooperation, Lady Theresa." Durandal produced a black cloak from somewhere and wrapped himself completely in it.
"So how should I cooperate with you?" Theresa looked at the woman in front of her with some doubt.
"Go to sleep peacefully." With that, Durandal flashed to Theresa's side, gently tapped the colleague who had picked her up, and the girl fell into her arms.
"On your young shoulders lies the unfulfilled dream of countless popes throughout the millennia. In order for you to truly reclaim everything that belongs to you, you must be patient." Durandal gently stroked the silver hair of the girl in his arms. At this moment, the sleeping Holy See was as adorable as a petite doll.
PS1: Ra!
Chapter 298 The Fall of St. Stephen's Crown: Capter 14 Leaving Rome
"Now it's your turn." The woman named Durandal muttered to herself as she sheathed her short sword, then drew a vintage-style revolver from her other waist, aimed it at the stained glass windows around the hall without even glancing at them, and expertly pulled the trigger.
Gunshots rang out, shattering the stained glass windows of the church. The gunfire also alerted the papal guards patrolling outside the square.
Under their commander's leadership, they quickly rushed towards the Sistine Chapel, armed with halberds and rifles.
For the entire Papacy, perhaps apart from these Swiss people, no one else cares so much about the Pope's life.
"The guns are good, but unfortunately, none of them are the weapons I like." With that, Durandal unholstered his gun and Roman-style short sword, threw them to the ground, and then elegantly picked up Theresa and left the church through an open window.
Otto, Durandal's employer, had already prepared horses for her. Tonight, under the moonless night, she could quickly leave Rome, then head north, traverse the entire Papal States, reach the pro-Austrian Duchy of Modena, and then enter the territory of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
As for Otto's purpose in arranging Theresa's escape route, there was only one goal: to find out that the person was neither the emperor nor the empress of the empire, but rather the empire's princess Gisela Louise Marie, who was now enjoying great fame in Italy and whose future prospects were limitless.
Otto's reasoning was actually quite simple: the most dangerous place is also the safest place. Gisela, who was an adversary of the Jesuits, was the most trustworthy noble in the Thirteen Courts. Although this backer was not very powerful now, she was a magic user, and this power was enough to eliminate the threat of most petty villains.
As for his next plans, they have nothing to do with the two who went north for the time being; those are his own business.
Vienna the next day—
As the morning sun streamed into the room through the sparkling clean windows once more, Gisela slowly opened her eyes, gazing somewhat bewildered at the familiar yet unfamiliar ceiling.
"Good morning, Vienna! Today will be another beautiful and peaceful day." Gisela wanted to say this, but her gradually recovering senses made her realize that something was amiss.
If my memory of yesterday is accurate, then I should still be by the tree wall, secretly drinking with that woman Jeanne, instead of comfortably sleeping soundly in my soft, comfortable bed.
"Damn it, I can't remember anything." The hangover made her head ache from thinking.
"No, I need to get up and get some water first."
"Wait a minute, why can't I move my hand..." Gisela tried to move her arm, but found that it seemed to be pressed down by something.
Thinking about all this, Gisela turned her head to the side with a sense of helplessness and then checked the condition of her arm.
However, a gray-haired woman wearing only black lace lingerie soon came into her view. At this moment, the slender woman was bending her legs and affectionately hugging Gisela's right arm.
It's not a big deal that they're all women, but the key point is that Gisela's hand is currently inserted between the woman's undulating breasts, and then buried deep in the cleavage. This overly slippery and soft touch makes Gisela instinctively swallow.
"Rita? What's she doing here!" Gisela broke out in a cold sweat. Was she finally about to embark on a forbidden love affair between master and servant? Instead of feeling guilty, Gisela felt a little excited at the thought.
Unfortunately, Gisela seemed unaware of what Su Beiming had done with her body and Rita during their last trip to Italy.
In a sense, this doesn't seem to be the first time for the two of them...
"Your Highness, you can sleep a little longer today. Rita won't blame you." Still half asleep, Rita murmured some suggestive words, her soft yet alluring tone making Gisela regret that she lacked the tools to teach this vixen a lesson.
At this moment, she seemed to understand the sentiment of the repressed poetry of Takasugi Shinsaku, the famous leader of the anti-shogunate movement in Japan in her original world: "All the crows in the three thousand worlds have been killed, and I will sleep with you until dawn. We pass by the lamp in the nine-foot-two-room room, and my red lips are still attached to the fire blowing bamboo." After saying so much, isn't it all just one word: tranquility!
However, after a moment, Gisela pulled herself out of her wild thoughts and had no choice but to reluctantly give up the gentle embrace.
"Get up!" At this thought, Gisela tried to sit up, but then the mattress covering her suddenly began to undulate in ways that were not caused by her physical movement.
"What's going on here?" Gisela grabbed her blanket and gently lifted it as if lifting a skirt. A voluptuous, mature beauty with gray hair and purple eyes came into view. At this moment, the beauty was lying sleepily beneath her, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was completely naked.
"Miss Aponia, you...you...you, what are you doing here?" No wonder I felt uncomfortable earlier, as if something was pressing down on my lower body; I almost thought it was sleep paralysis.
"Your Highness, good morning. May the Lord bless you again today." Aponia looked at Gisela with reverence and greeted her politely. At this moment, she still had that gentle and charming smile on her face. Perhaps because she was a nun, even though she was completely naked, she still maintained a strange sense of holiness, which made Gisela look at her in a daze.
What's going on here?! What exactly happened last night? Gisela was completely bewildered, feeling as if thousands of alpacas were galloping across the grassland in her mind.
Just then, Gisela felt a new sensation on her left. Damn it, what was it this time? Gisela brought the object in her left hand to her line of sight. It was another piece of fabric that evoked all sorts of thoughts, and it looked like underwear. First of all, it wasn't hers, because her size wasn't big enough for such a lewd standard. Could it be Aponia's? Gisela pondered as she looked at Aponia.
“Your Highness, we clergy would never wear such inappropriate underwear.” Aponia gracefully covered her chest while looking at Gisela with an unperturbed expression.
PS1: Sorry, I forgot.
Chapter 299 The Fall of St. Stephen's Crown: Did Capter 15 arrive in Imphal last night? (Seeking votes)
Rita could rule it out since she had just confirmed that Rita was wearing underwear, and Rita's size was at most a 50/50 split with her own. She used to think it was big, but now she could only say it was average... (lifts her skirt)
"Then who else could it be?" Gisela turned her head to her left, only to find that there was no one there.
"Wait a minute, it can't be..." A chilling answer echoed in Gisela's mind, so with unease and speculation, she climbed to the edge of her bed and looked down at the floor.
At this moment, a fair-skinned, silver-haired woman was lying on the carpet, fast asleep in a very ungraceful manner, her face contorted in a large, unseemly "X" shape.
"It really is her... Black..." In terms of size, the French defeated the German coalition this time, but they were still inferior to the Italians.
The Duke of Orléans, a nobleman of France and the daughter of a saint, lying on a carpet like this—wouldn't people laugh their heads off? No! Even if word got out, no one would believe such a vulgar political joke that was defamatory and vilifying.
"Sigh!" Gisela covered her face and sighed helplessly. How she missed the domineering and irritable older sister she used to know, and the majestic French saintess. Now, she was completely useless. Last year, during the negotiations, she had been so dashing, throwing the gloves off the arrogant French ambassador in front of the ambassadors of various countries, and then directly refusing Napoleon III's demand that she participate in the civil war.
And of course, there was the conversation that followed that day—
"Gisella, how will you protect Richelieu?"
"Napoleon III will need your strength then. First, you must refuse his summons. Morally, you can declare yourself neutral and refuse to wield your sword against your own people. Second, Richelieu, who lacks magical combat power, will definitely be sent to the battlefield. So no matter whether Napoleon III threatens you with Richelieu, please do not listen to him."
“Richelieu is wounded; this is tantamount to sending her to her death!”
“Miss Jeanne, I believe you understand Richelieu’s character better than I do. Rather than blindly forcing her to betray Napoleon III and France, it would be better to let her think it through and come to her own conclusion.”
"You have already told her your answer, including to the French people, which is tantamount to giving her more options. When she experiences the contradiction of wielding a knife against her compatriots, what will a patriot choose?" This is not hard to guess: he will refuse to continue participating in the civil war.
“Maintaining neutrality and refusing to fight—in peacetime, neutrality wouldn’t have any substantial losses. After all, for Napoleon III at that time, neutrality at least allowed him to deal with his opponents without restraint. But now it’s different. For Napoleon III, who is now surrounded by enemies, a neutral stance itself means betrayal, and the only price of betrayal is being his hostility.”
"Having lost her reason to fight, she wouldn't have refused my invitation at that time."
"No! It wasn't my invitation; it should be our invitation."
Let's return to the present —
Gisela looked at Jeanne in front of her, a slight smile playing on her lips, and then threw the black cloth at her face.
The fabric on her face quickly woke Jeanne up as she struggled to breathe. She first used her right hand to fling the cloth off her face, then frowned and scanned her surroundings with her golden eyes.
"Get up, servant. Quickly prepare the clothes in the wardrobe for me." Gisela stood on the bed and looked down at Jeanne on the floor.
“Your Highness! This is my job!” Just as Gisela’s hand was pulled away from Rita’s chest, she woke up perfectly.
“Huh? I am the Duke of France, not your maid, and this is that lady’s job.” Jeanne picked up her underwear while looking at Gisela with disdain.
"Shut up! I said it's you, and that's it. If you talk back to me again, I'll break off our agreement. And I think it's necessary to teach you, who lives off a woman, the lesson that 'no pain, no gain.'" Gisela stood with her hands on her hips, her tone carrying an unprecedented arrogance. Perhaps the sly fox didn't even realize at this moment how much she resembled a spoiled princess.
Although bullying Jeanne Alter is a very interesting thing?
"You! Don't push your luck!" Jeanne stood up and roared in dissatisfaction, then gritted her teeth and lunged at Gisela. Because the event was so sudden, Jeanne's attack was unexpectedly successful, and she knocked Gisela down without any resistance.
Rita rushed over to separate the two, but Aponia, as if she hadn't seen anything, walked to the side, elegantly and skillfully putting on her black and white maid outfit, expertly pulling her tight black stockings from her ankles to her thighs, and then continuing upwards. Although her identity was that of a nun, to better carry out the tasks assigned to her by Bishop Otto and the Holy See, staying by Gisela's side disguised as a maid had become an essential disguise for her to conceal her true identity.
"Don't push your luck, you fox!"
"Watch your attitude, you lowly prisoner!"
"Stop talking nonsense, you little girl from the Cricket Lower Body Fortress."
"Shut up! I can even smell the mosquito coil on you!" (As mentioned earlier, Jeanne Alter has a lavender scent.)
"Huh? Mosquito coils?" Although Jeanne didn't understand what Gisela meant by mosquito coils, that didn't stop her from skillfully interpreting it as something bad.
“So you know I took your maid yesterday…” Jeanne raised her eyebrows smugly, but before she could finish her sentence, she was caught by a slightly panicked Rita who jumped up and grabbed her, and they rolled off the bed together.
"Are you crazy, Lady Jeanne?" Rita whispered to Jeanne while covering her mouth. To Rita, giving her body to anyone other than His Highness was a betrayal. Although she didn't know why Jeanne had done those things yesterday, that didn't stop her from burying this secret forever.
"Rita, why are you so agitated?" Gisela tilted her head, looking at the two people lying on the carpet with a puzzled expression.
"Knock knock knock!" Just then, there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Gisela called out towards the gate.
"It's me, Leopold. Your Highness, how are you?"
"Am I good?" Gisela looked around at the three beauties in her room (one of whom was a French woman and appeared to be in a restricted-content setting).
"I couldn't be better..." How could it not be good to sleep in the arms of a beautiful woman?
PS1: A lot must have happened last night. As for what it was, you can use your imagination.
PS1: How many women make a drama? 0v0!
Chapter 300 The Fall of St. Stephen's Crown: Capter 16 A Doomed Unrequited Love
"Really? That's good. My aunt said you had a hangover last night and asked me to come and check on you." Leopold rubbed his hands together a little awkwardly, pressed himself against the door with some trepidation, and carefully chose his words with a gentle expression. After all, Gisela seemed to be the person he cared about the most in his heart.
“Please wait a moment if you need me, Mr. Leopold. We are getting dressed.” Gisela said, lifting the blankets and gesturing to Rita and Aponia to help her change.
"Of course." He responded to Gisela's words politely, then stood by the door, waiting for Gisela to get ready.
Wait a minute? No, why us? Are there other people outside the room besides His Highness? If they were maids, shouldn't they already be dressed?
He was clearly unaware of what had happened the previous night, let alone how his fiancée, after being moved to the bedroom by the loyal servants, had used her drunken state to accomplish the triple kill.
"By the way, Your Highness, I'm returning to Munich tomorrow." Leopold gently bit his lip, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance, his longing for home evident.
Gisela may not be prepared to reciprocate her feelings for Leopold, but out of friendship, she feels she must say some things herself, after all, she aspires to be a queen who understands people's hearts.
"So, Leo, do you need me to take you?" Gisela changed her previous overly formal address and instead called him by his childhood name.
“No need, Your Highness. You have your own matters to attend to, and your father still wants you to go to Hungary!” Leopold took a deep breath to suppress his thoughts, and then said in a relatively calm and less disappointed tone.
“Hungary? What’s that? Why don’t I know about it?” Gisela looked down at Rita, who was helping her dress, and Rita, who was confronting Jeanne. Because of some unpleasant things that happened last night, Rita had obviously come to regard Jeanne as a rival who also coveted His Highness’s body.