Friar.
(lighting candles) Are you the cleric in red?
I find the robes of your Order suit me better, at this... pitiful juncture.
Have you taken our vows?
I can no longer serve the Pope of Rome.
Ah, yes. I heard of your plans for his deposition. Your plans failed. Miserably.
...Indeed. I must confess to failure.
Oh, so have you come here to make a confession of your failure?
No. I'm here to propose a solution to the sickness in our Holy Mother Church.
(smirks) A solution?
We must remove him.
From the Chair of St. Peter's?
From the Chair of St. Peter's-
But you tried that already.
From the Chair of St. Peter's- and, from this world. (Savanarola pauses)
... I shared a vision with you, once. Of the bloated figure of the Borgia Pope, lying blackened with sickness, on the floor of St. Peter's. No one dared approach it. Are you saying you're the one to bring this to pass?
Only if I have your blessing, Friar- and, the blessing of your Order.
You have the blessing of the Lord- for He shall bring it to pass. And, if my vision was a true one, you will have my blessing- and the blessing of the Lord Himself. (pause) "Be the sword of the Apocalypse, the sword of Righteousness. Ride out like Death, on a Pale Horse." (gives Della Rovere a grim smile and leaves)
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