Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Steel Can Be Copied (1)
The Visconti Duke smiled as he looked at the man before him.
“Archbishop of Florence, is that true? Are you saying that Fabio actually overwhelmed Christian in the church trial?”
The archbishop nodded in agreement.
“As soon as I heard that the trial had begun, I hurried over under the pretense of stopping this unjust proceeding, which is why I arrived a bit late. When I reached the courtroom, I could hear the voice of a young man passionately speaking from outside the door.”
“That was Fabio, I presume.”
“Yes, from what I heard.”
The archbishop relayed every detail he had gathered to the duke.
At first, the duke laughed heartily, thinking it was just like a madman to remain bold and attempt negotiation instead of begging even with his life at stake.
If such a bold and rational man were to become his subordinate, he would surely be useful in defeating the Sforza ducal family.
However, as the story continued, the smile gradually disappeared from the duke’s face.
It was not because he was petty enough to envy a capable subordinate.
It was because Fabio de Medici’s actions in the trial were so astonishing they seemed unreal.
“So what you’re saying is that Fabio completely dominated Christian in the church court?”
The duke let out a hollow laugh.
“You don’t seem like someone who would lie about this, but it’s hard to believe. Is it really true?”
“I witnessed it with my own eyes. Fabio had already swayed the opinion of the audience, and the auxiliary bishop could not find a single flaw in him.”
What Fabio had done appeared like this to the archbishop and the duke:
A knight who had undergone harsh training since childhood, fully armored and mounted, renowned among warriors—
and a ten-year-old child facing him with nothing but a tree branch, yet somehow winning.
Under normal circumstances, the child would lose a million times out of a million.
Yet what Fabio accomplished was a victory in an impossible battle, without even attempting to flee.
“When I was his age, I was only thinking about how to lift a maid’s skirt. And that fellow has written a legend at just twenty. It makes my own sons look pathetic.”
The duke slumped his shoulders.
While Fabio’s success benefited the entire ducal house, it made his own children seem lacking in comparison.
As a father, he could not help but feel uneasy.
Seeing the mood turn gloomy, the archbishop tried to lighten it with a clumsy joke.
“To speak of your youthful vigor in front of a clergyman—having committed the sin of lust, you must make a confession.”
Normally, the duke would have replied jokingly,
“If I confess, won’t I have to make a large donation? Give me a discount.”
But he was not in the mood.
“I don’t feel like it now. The rumors are spreading well, I assume?”
“Of course. Not only in the Florence Cathedral but throughout Tuscany, I’ve instructed them to spread a slightly embellished version of the story as part of sermons.”
The Deus Church possesses an administrative system much like an army.
Thanks to that, it is possible to distribute specific sermon topics and content to priests in other cities and villages.
“We couldn’t mention the Sforza Duke directly since he did not act personally, but aside from commoners and serfs, most will know who suffered the loss in this incident.”
Influential nobles rooted in their regions are well aware of central politics.
Choosing the wrong side could cost them both power and wealth.
So when such stories spread, the underlying truth becomes clear.
“For a while, that fellow Fabio will be treated as a hero across the empire.”
“Indeed.”
“The taverns of Florence must be thriving. They now have Fabio as a topic of conversation, along with corrupt clergy to curse at freely.”
“As I passed by, I saw that those who attended the trial were already spreading rumors. They say that Deus could not tolerate Christian’s injustice and worked through Fabio to bring judgment.”
The archbishop felt pleased just imagining how to use that public sentiment.
If Christian committed injustice, then those above him also bear responsibility for failing to prevent it.
And if rumors spread that Deus Himself intervened to judge the crime?
Then even the powerful could be forced into retirement on moral grounds.
‘If we place our own people in the bishop positions…’
He might soon ascend to the rank of cardinal.
“You will soon become a cardinal. At that point, I won’t be able to speak casually to you. I should start addressing you more formally now.”
“How could you say such a thing, Your Grace, after all the kindness you have shown me?”
“I appreciate you saying that. When you become a cardinal, I will take good care of your poor nephews.”
Those poor illegitimate children—legally nephews, but in truth the archbishop’s own children.
“I am deeply grateful.”
“Now then, let us spread the rumors quickly to strike at the Sforza. And let’s turn Fabio into a hero—for our advancement and benefit.”
And in an instant, Fabio’s name spread throughout Tuscany.
**
The day after the trial ended, the duke summoned me.
Perhaps because I had brought him greater benefit than expected.
Once again, tea bestowed by the imperial family was served.
And even a finer chair than the one I had sat in before.
“You are more remarkable than I expected. I almost envy your father.”
“Your praise is more than I deserve, Your Grace.”
Excessive humility can sound like mockery.
And in any era or country, pretending to be humble allows others to undervalue you.
So when it is time to be confident, one must accept it.
“No, your father must feel uneasy. To have such a talented son, yet still choose the eldest as heir.”
At first glance, it sounded like praise.
But for a duke to belittle his own vassal in front of me must have a reason.
‘He’s trying to tempt me by suggesting he could make me the Baron Medici someday.’
Such words would not damage the duke politically.
Anyone could see that, in terms of ability alone, I surpass my older brother.
But for me, those words are quite troublesome.
“Please do not say such things, even in jest. The order of succession within a family is absolute.”
The duke gave me a bitter smile.
“As expected, you are not easily tempted. When I use this tactic on second sons of Sforza vassal families, they either hesitate or take the bait.”
Even a hint of hesitation would be enough for the duke to leak it to rival families.
Then those families would purge the second sons suspected of plotting a coup.
And in the aftermath, they might fracture internally or even collapse entirely.
Of course, the duke likely has no intention of ruining me that way.
Doing so would prevent him from building a steelworks capable of producing unlimited steel, and treating his own allies like that would leave him with none.
Therefore, considering everything, his words were likely sincere.
Causing internal strife in a vassal family leads to destruction, but replacing the head with proper justification is entirely possible.
“I have no intention of harming you or the Medici family.”
I may not fully trust you, but I trust the circumstances around you—and your instinct for survival.
So I can be at ease.
“Originally, I planned to simply pull you out of the church trial and fund the construction of this steelworks. But it seems that will not be enough.”
The duke handed me a document.
“After this meeting, give this to the head steward, and he will exchange it for five hundred gold coins. This is separate from investment funds—use it as you wish.”
Five hundred gold coins would feel like roughly two billion won.
To give such a fortune just for defeating a bishop with words—it is excessive.
He is clearly trying to bind me with money.
Does he think people can be turned into obedient tools so easily?
Unfortunately, I am someone risking my life and putting on all kinds of performances just to earn money.
Only by earning money can I enjoy the noble life, luxury, and beautiful women in this world.
In that sense, a duke who hands over such wealth is the perfect employer.
Damn it, I might fall for him.
“Thank you.”
“My expectations are high. If you succeed, you will be greatly rewarded. And do not forget.”
“What do you mean?”
The duke beckoned me closer.
As I leaned in, he whispered so quietly that no one else could hear.
“I value you more than Albert. What merit is there in being born first?”
He may be a generous employer, but this man is terrifying.
If I were to depose Albert and seize the title of Baron Medici, I would become nothing more than a slave—one who must obey even to the point of death at the duke’s command.
Is he trying to turn me into a tool for his family’s eternal glory?
It’s absurd.