As far as I can tell Cardinal Richelieu, was a rock star. Rich, powerful, and influential. He's long dead, he probably won't mind if I be him. Now I'm not smart enough to learn French, but because of my lifelong love affair with Monty Python, I can affect an outrageous French accent. And I look pretty good in a goatee and pointy mustache, or at least good in a douchey kind of way.
So I shaped my facial hair, converted to Catholicism, decided I couldn't wait to work my way up the ladder, changed my name to Cardinal Richelieu, bought a really fetching robe and practiced some diabolical phrases such as "Teach him a lesson... teach him to die, Buahahahaha," and "Can I get a cup of coffee please, cream and sugar, Muahahahaha." And then I set out in the world to wield my unholy power.
Turns out there is still a fortune to be had by a fake Cardinal meddling in the affairs of government, these days. I started with the generous amount I got from the local council, and all I had to do was clean up after their weekly meeting and I cleared $20. And the library kicked me back, all I could drink coffee, for simply putting books away in my spare time. My big score came about in a particularly seedy back room deal, whereas I got some money from a government construction contract, and all I had to do was dig ditches for sixteen hours a day. BUAHAHAhahahaha.