CHAPTER 19
Caesar sat in the reception room, leisurely sipping half a glass of wine.
As the door opened, Lorenzo strode in: "Good afternoon, Mr. Borgia."
The young man looked up at him, a smile lingering on his lips, "She's already gone, hasn't she?"
"You seem a bit too impatient," Lorenzo said, sitting across from him, his tone still calm and unhurried. "Patience is a virtue."
"Mr. Medici, rumors outside say you are a successful businessman, who revived the vast family business a few years ago.
" Caesar put down his wine glass, his expression no longer as innocent as it had been in front of Hedy, instead showing the sophistication of an adult.
"But you're indifferent to this nearly guaranteed transaction. That really isn't very wise."
The man lowered his eyes, observing the boy with a face as beautiful as an angel's, and slowly said, "It seems the Pope has taught you quite a lot."
"There are grand parades and theatrical performances in Florence," he stood up, his tone calm and unperturbed. "If you wish to stay for Christmas, Palazzo Pitti will always welcome you."
"Wait a minute—" The young man emphasized his words. "Is this your choice?"
"To disregard the lives of the Florentine people, to overlook the honor within reach, to let the chance to reconcile with the Church slip away?" Caesar sneered, then asked, "Or do you think you have absolute certainty in this war, so much so that you don't need any external help?"
Lorenzo stopped in his tracks, turned around to glance at him, and gave a faint smile.
"Children should stay away from politics," he said lightly. "Being too young isn't always an advantage."
Hedy, on the way back, did not dare to rest. Even when washing up by a small river, she did so as quickly as possible.
Due to the potential outbreak of war, the two young children stayed in Florence to ensure they could keep in touch with their parents in case of a crisis.
Along the way, they were settling their assets and expenses, as well as calculating the time needed to produce various weapons.
Fortunately, six months ago, Atalante had written to inform them that the four blacksmiths and carpenters' shops had already been purchased, and the business was doing quite well.
The initial purpose of acquiring these shops was to produce farming tools and pastoral equipment at a lower cost, continually widening the price gap between their own agricultural products and those of other ranchers.
However, with the war approaching, these shops could indeed be repurposed into weaponry workshops.
"We can't do these things within Milan," Da Vinci murmured. "Sforza is a cautious and greedy man. If he finds out, he might try to swallow up all our assets."
Hedy nodded in agreement and marked a ranch on the map in the southwest direction. "We can use this as our base. Half of the area for training soldiers, and the other half for weapon testing. What do you think?"
"And we need to control the movement of people," Da Vinci added, pulling out a pencil. "If any opportunist tries to inform on us, things will get even more troublesome."
Though the carriage was quite bumpy, it didn't hinder their overall planning.
Collaborating with Leonardo was truly a pleasant experience—
Hedy often didn't need to add much, sometimes just giving a hint or two, and he would quickly understand her full meaning.
After years of repeated collaboration, he had become completely accustomed to modern thinking methods, and he was quite adept with things like icons and budget sheets.
"But—there's something else very important," Da Vinci looked at her and asked, "Do you know what 'Cantarella' is?"
Hedy was somewhat puzzled. "Who is that?"
"It’s not a person, it’s a poison." Da Vinci spoke with some concern. "Botticelli told me about it."
It was said that the Borgia family had inherited a poison passed down through generations, used to secretly eliminate or threaten political enemies.
This poison was colorless, tasteless, and no one had ever seen its exact form. But it was said that those who ingested it would soon meet their end.
Da Vinci wasn’t sure how true these legends were, but he still explained what he knew.
Is it... arsenic?
Or perhaps a mixture related to arsenic?
Hedy thought for a moment, then spoke up. "From now on, you should always carry a silver needle with you and stir your food with it before eating."
"Because... silver is sacred?" Leonardo raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What about a cross?"
"Not like that. If the water or food is poisoned, stirring it with the silver needle will cause it to turn black immediately."
At this time, extracts were often impure, and the presence of impurities would cause a reaction in silver, turning it black.
Hedy had never directly encountered this part of history, but she had a general understanding of the technological level of the time.
The tools people used for poisoning mainly relied on arsenic trioxide, also known as arsenic.
"Just in case, I mean, just in case," she emphasized, "if, after eating something, you start feeling short of breath and your throat begins to hurt, immediately induce vomiting and get all the food out."
Da Vinci looked at her with surprise. "Did alchemy teach you these things?"
Over the years, he had grown more and more curious about visiting her teacher and learning some of these new things.
"You must continue vomiting until only clear water comes out, and then supplement with eggs and milk." Hedy confirmed seriously. "Did you hear that?"
"Mm, got it." Leonardo chuckled. "We should bring a silver needle for Atalante as well."
Hedy watched as he continued organizing the charts, faintly sensing that he had completely adapted to her various strange ideas.
The knowledge from the modern world and the things that had never existed in this era had all come into being centuries ahead of time, thanks to her.
If it weren’t for her identity and the many lies protecting her, she might have already been burned at the stake as a witch in the town square.
Da Vinci lowered his head, writing something. After a long pause, he spoke again, "Sometimes, I feel that you're a very mysterious existence."
"…Hmm?"
"You know so much, and you're fearless," he paused for a moment, then continued writing, "And you're exceptional in many ways, as if you had many tutors since you were young."
Hedy froze for a moment, realizing where the issue lay.
In this era, women were supposed to be completely disconnected from most forms of knowledge.
They were born to be servants of doctrine and had no chance of engaging with profound philosophy or science.
Take Isabella from the Duchy of Ferrara, for example. Even though she received a comprehensive and progressive education, she was remarkable enough to be recorded in history.
Sometimes her knowledge and speech were worlds apart from what one would expect of a so-called fugitive.
"If you trust me enough..." Leonardo lifted his gaze to look at her, his eyes gentle and sincere. "Would you be willing to tell me where you truly come from?"
Hedy took a deep breath, trying to suppress the many thoughts clamoring in her mind.
She truly longed to tell someone about her origins.
She wanted to reminisce about everything from the twentieth century and the open discussions on everything related to future technology.
It was so lonely.
Living alone in this medieval-like world was incredibly isolating.
And if she told Da Vinci, she could fearlessly share all the knowledge with him, allowing him to use those principles to design even greater works and machines—
"What... do you think?" she asked softly.
"I've always wondered if you might be a runaway princess or the daughter of some duke," Leonardo lowered his gaze to the pencil's marks, his voice softening. "You have extensive knowledge, carry exquisitely crafted jewelry, and resist marriage."
Hedy furrowed her brow but kept that foolish thought locked away in her heart.
"Maybe," she laughed self-deprecatingly. "I don’t really remember."
Atalante received the news early in the morning, holding her little daughter and waiting at the city gate for their carriage.
"You've grown taller, Atalante!" Hedy exclaimed happily, hugging the little girl and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She then turned to greet the young wife, now pregnant again. "Hello, please accept the gifts we brought from Florence."
They didn't bother with washing or changing clothes. Instead, they spent the whole morning inspecting every shop in the city, then reviewed the reports submitted by the workers.
The three of them sat back in the pristine study, and there was no sign of that troublesome little demon outside.
It was said that after the child had been sent back to the vineyard, they were violently beaten by their angry parents. Now, no one knew if the child had started stealing from others again.
"Actually, the reason we’re back is to prepare for a war," Da Vinci said slowly, taking a sip of wine. "I've already drawn up several designs for firearms and cannons. The rest will be left to the blacksmiths."
Atalante, who had just been happily telling jokes, froze at these words. She instinctively said, "Weren’t you supposed to be back to continue the business?"
"The French are coming," Hedy replied briefly. "Probably in three to five months."
"We need to form a mercenary army, find suitable generals to lead them, and convert the southwest ranch into our base," Da Vinci unfolded a map and plan, gesturing for the young assistant to take a look. "This is going to be a big project."
"—The French?!"
"—War?!"
Atalante began pacing back and forth in the room, her face filled with disbelief. "Oh my god, didn’t you two come back for a vacation?!"
"No," Hedy said, sipping her wine, adding, "And we’ve angered the Borgia family. We might end up being hunted down by them."
"Borgia—Borgia?!!"