The unpredictable power struggle between the pope and the king, the wonderful battle of wits and courage, the sad love and hatred.
My thoughts about you, the desire dancing on the tip of the knife, were instantly destroyed by your lurking net of killing.
I know that the religious power and the imperial power cannot maintain an eternal struggle. Either I will defeat you or I will be surrendered by you. I know that even if I am willing to lower my head and you no longer pursue your inner love for power, we will still stay away to the maximum extent possible.
But I couldn't control myself, so I could only hide the pain of a moth flying into the flame by being worse than an animal...
I'm sweating!