Mr. Skelly stroked his chin. He might’ve accidentally caused a minor rebellion, but he wasn’t affected by it at all. In fact, he might’ve even profited. After the citizens ransacked the church, taking all its food and hidden money, they left after a quick prayer as if they felt guilty for looting the place. The priests and clergymen hadn’t moved back in, so, naturally, Mr. Skelly occupied the massive church.

Mr. Skelly raised his head. “Find anything?” he asked a ghost floating above him.

The ghost shook its head.

Mr. Skelly scratched his skull. Perhaps the church wasn’t evil after all. There weren’t any signs of the church knowing necromancy at all. There was a demented statue of a man wearing a crown of thorns nailed to a cross with his face contorted in agony, but after reading up on the man’s background information, Mr. Skelly realized what it was. Other than that, there were a couple of skulls and ashes, but which large organization didn’t have a few skulls and ashes? Since that was the case, it seemed like Mr. Skelly sincerely wronged the church—even if he didn’t mean to.

A sigh escaped out of Mr. Skelly’s ribcage, and he took sank back deeper into the pope’s favorite chair. He picked up the scrolls and letters that had accumulated in the pigeon post. Originally, he had planned on leaving them there for the pope to handle, but it didn’t look like he was coming back anytime soon. If important information was missed because of the little riot the citizens held, wouldn’t it be a disaster for the church? Since he was here, he might as well right his wrongs. Mr. Skelly nodded and broke the wax seal on the first scroll he picked up. He was lucky the knowledge he absorbed earlier from the skeleton included the written word.

“Eh?” Mr. Skelly’s eye sockets widened. “It seems like Leo X missed a meeting or something. Well, what’s gone is gone, it’s not like the world’s ending just because he missed it. Let’s see, the people there were some bigshots, huh? Oh, what. They’re rebelling against the church and the emperor.” Mr. Skelly glanced at the ghost, who was still hovering above him, and cleared his throat. “If I were the pope, what would I do…?”

Mr. Skelly rubbed his chin some more before placing the scroll down. Then he picked up another one. “Let’s see,” he said and broke the wax seal. “Rhodes was lost? Even if I know that, what am I supposed to do? Send an army of skeletons to take it back?” He frowned. “If I did that, then wouldn’t that automatically associate the church with necromancers? It wouldn’t feel right forcing them to flee and ruining their image.”

With a wave of his bony hand, Mr. Skelly tossed the scroll onto the table. “Wait a minute,” he said and grabbed the two letters. He read them again and frowned even harder. Events that catch the pope’s attention, wouldn’t they be big events? Maybe one of his companions were involved. It was a shame the papers were so small since they had to be carriable by a pigeon; otherwise, there’d be more information for him to work with. “Alright, I’ll keep these two in mind: the mastermind behind the coup d’état, and the conquering of a fortress.”

Mr. Skelly grabbed the little scrolls, rolled them up, then stuffed them into his eye sockets. He leaned forward and grabbed another scroll that was sealed with wax. “Let’s see what’s here,” he said and popped open the seal. “The archbishop has been accused of witchcraft, and he’s currently being interrogated in a dungeon.” Mr. Skelly scratched his head. “Alright, since this was sent by a king or emperor, I don’t think anyone I know is involved in this. However, that’s highly inappropriate! How dare this ruler imprison an archbishop under suspicion of witchcraft? Wouldn’t that be questioning the pope’s judgment? It seems like the two don’t get along. Well, I’ll help the pope out and send a strongly worded letter to this man who’s overstepping his bounds.”

Mr. Skelly grabbed a nearby parchment and well of ink. He dipped a quill into it and scribbled out a reply, writing the letters as strongly as he could. Then, he let it dry while rummaging through the pope’s desk, looking for the seal. Once he found it, he folded the letter and sealed it with red wax, copying the three letters he had opened. He glanced up and raised his bony hand. “Send this to the….” He paused and scratched his skull. “Send it to Charles V. The pigeons—or their cages—are labeled, right?”

The ghost nodded and grabbed the letter. Surprisingly, it could hold onto it. It floated towards the door and passed through, but the letter dropped to the floor. A moment later, the door creaked open, and the ghost grabbed the letter again. Mr. Skelly sighed and tossed the letter about the archbishop into a nearby bin. “One good deed done for the day.” He picked up another letter, the last one. “Hmm, looks like another archbishop is highly concerned about rumors regarding the pope abandoning the church.” He prepared the materials to write another letter and scribbled on six words: Everything’s fine. Carry on. Leo X.

“There we go.” Mr. Skelly sealed his handiwork and nodded. “I do wonder when that pope plans on coming back though.” He tapped his fingers against the table as he waited for the ink to dry. “I can’t stay here forever. I’ll give him until I finish investigating that fortress and coup d’état. If he’s not back by then, then … oh wells.” Mr. Skelly shrugged and stood up. He walked behind the chair and stood in front of the window. There weren’t any people in the square, not even any guards. After all, they wouldn’t feel comfortable approaching a square full of ghosts even if they couldn’t see them.