An Unexpected Turn

Pius IX's pest-repelling ritual was still underway, but he felt as though the sky had grown dim. Everyone else present sensed it too. They looked up one after another and saw a mass of dark insects blotting out the sun, on their way.

Pius IX's pupils narrowed. To make sure nothing went wrong, he had ordered the surrounding fields burned, using a scorched-earth policy to stop the locusts.

But Pius IX had overlooked one thing: locusts weren't people. They traveled far faster than humans.

Locusts could fly at speeds of up to ten kilometers an hour and keep flying for three days, covering around 720 kilometers in a single flight.

So the firebreak Pius IX had established at such great cost was something the locusts could easily cross.

And so the Holy City—Rome—fell. Its precious flowers and carefully pruned trees alike became locust fodder.

Pius IX fled into Castel Sant'Angelo before he had even finished the ritual. It wasn't because the locusts would eat people, but because all the spectators had run away. Who was he supposed to perform for?

"Oh, God! There are far too many locusts!"

Even after they had taken refuge inside the church, the sound of locusts striking the doors and windows could still be heard from outside.

Seeing the Pope in such a sorry state, the congregation began praying. The high-ranking officials, meanwhile, were escorted by Swiss mercenaries to the underground chambers.

The chambers had fine wine, delicious food, and beautiful women waiting for them. There was even a band and a children's choir.

Franz didn't have many options against the locusts blanketing the sky. Without a sufficiently potent insecticide, Pyrethrum simply wasn't enough.

So the only solution he could think of was to send in the chickens and ducks. There weren't many ducks in