'They were never going to make me a bishop? They will never allow me to rise if the voting is done like this. They only serve their self-interest and their masters. They will always find an excuse to pull me down. If this continues, I may only become a Bishop when my hair starts turning white.'
Sylvester was annoyed and frustrated, but not taken aback. For long enough, he knew that the church was not united anymore. The Pope may have done great to bring peace, but the Holy Land's internal structure was as rotten as it was during the war. So it was better to say that more than the outside, the inside of the Holy Land needed a crusade.
"Why, if I may ask," Sylvester questioned, but only stared at the Saint Wazir with his golden eyes.
Saint Wazir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After all, the man knew better than any that Sylvester's achievements were enough to make him a Cardinal, let alone a simple Bishop. Sadly, he couldn't meddle in politics.
