CHAPTER 19 #2
"Also, Hedy is now my fiancée!" Leonardo suddenly remembered this key point, his eyes filled with an uncontainable smile. "What do you think of this news?"
Atalante chose to slump onto the nearby bench, muttering after a long pause, "You two have only been gone for less than a year, and yet you’ve managed to cause so much trouble…"
"So, do you want to join?" Hedy asked. "Continue being my supervisor and talk your way through things with the mercenary leaders?"
"Sure!" The young man stretched out his voice as he slouched. "It’s not like you two aren’t going to get into trouble anyway…"
——
None of this would be enough with just the few of them.
At the moment, Sforza’s stance was rather ambiguous, but he had already agreed that the Medici family would provide some auxiliary troops and support.
What Hedy wanted, and one could say, what had been on her list since she arrived in this era, was to form a mercenary army that would be completely loyal to her and sufficiently trained.
It might start with just a small team, but soon there should be a battalion, and eventually, they would be formed into a flexible and powerful legion.
The clever Atalante was tasked with gathering information at various taverns and recruitment centers, while the others helped transfer supplies to the southwest ranch.
During this interval, Da Vinci took Hedy to visit a craftsman—Mr. Fabio.
The old man had a beard so long it needed to be tied with a rope into a knot, and it was said that when he was forging iron in his youth, he had accidentally set his beard on fire, burning his entire furry head.
He had designed several castles and fortresses and had contributed to the casting of many important components for the Milan Cathedral. He and Da Vinci had been working together for three or four years now.
When they visited him, the entire workshop was filled with the pungent smell of molten iron and charcoal, making it feel as though they were standing right next to a barbecue pit.
One of the apprentices shouted loudly, and the old man finally heard the noise, stopping his work to turn and look at them.
Mr. Fabio’s beard and eyebrows were completely white, and his Mediterranean-style head was the same. Though his eyes were a bit cloudy, his expression was still alert.
"What do you want with me? Is it another bishop saying that the payment will be delayed for a few more months?" he asked.
Da Vinci didn’t beat around the bush and replied directly, "We want to hire you."
"Hire?" The old man spat and muttered, "I've been hired by many, and none of them paid me!"
Hedy smiled but didn’t speak. She simply placed a money pouch in front of him.
Fabio paused, then bent down and untied the string, shaking it to confirm its weight—it was heavy enough to make a dull sound.
Inside, it was filled with gold coins, which gleamed even in the firelight.
His first reaction was to clutch the pouch tightly and look around at the apprentices. "What are you looking at? Get back to work!"
Once the apprentices had all withdrawn their heads, he took one coin, bit it between his teeth, and tested its authenticity.
"This is an advance," Hedy said slowly. "If you agree to cooperate, we will pay at least three times the amount for a year’s worth of work."
On the way there, Hedy had already heard Da Vinci talk about the old man’s temperament.
— He had once been a rather good-natured craftsman, skilled in both woodworking and metalworking. Unfortunately, the noble lords and princes, who were all scoundrels that liked to default on payments and break contracts, had gradually made him irritable over time.
"Let’s go." The old man immediately started packing up his things. "I’ll take the job. Let’s go now."
"Hey, hold on," Da Vinci tried to explain. "We might have to take you to war. Aren’t you afraid?"
"Afraid? Why would I be afraid?" The old man stuffed the money pouch into his chest, then asked in return, "You see Sforza every day and aren’t afraid? Letting me work for him is worse than sending me to the battlefield!"
Hedy couldn’t help but laugh. Then she asked, "So you’re willing to do anything?"
"As long as there’s this—" The old man waved the gold coins. "As long as the payment is right, I’ll do anything. At my age, I’d even wear a white dress and dance in church if you paid me enough!"
Meanwhile, Atalante quickly returned with some good news.
Not only had she found a wandering mercenary band, but she had also located the mercenary leader with the largest control over the number of soldiers.
In recent decades, the armies hired by surrounding city-states had come from various regions, making their composition rather complicated.
For example, the Venetians had long employed light cavalry from Greece and Dalmatia, and crossbowmen and heavy cavalry were essential as well.
The mercenary leaders, however, were a double-edged sword—people both loved and hated them.
Most of them had good leadership and judgment, but they were also greedier than anyone could stand.
It was precisely their greed that had allowed the city of Florence to escape a siege a hundred years ago, when they bribed their way out of a looming disaster.
"This is a mercenary band developed from a mercenary family," Atalante said, leading Hedy quickly toward the reception room. Her tone was slightly hesitant. "People call it 'Flame.' They say their killings are as brutal as hyenas."
Hedy quickly entered the room and, at that moment, saw a number of people.
Four or five large, burly men were either sitting or leaning, their muscles bulging, their faces rough, and their eyes revealing that they were not the type to be trifled with.
At the center of the group was a leader who seemed to have just returned from battle, still wearing chainmail.
He was reclining in a chair, his limbs stretched out loosely to either side, with his boots unapologetically resting on the table, leaving behind dirt and footprints.
Hedy gave him a quick glance, listening as Atalante introduced the names of the men.
They all came from the Zino family and had extensive battle experience. The mercenaries under their command numbered around three thousand.
This number was enough to repeatedly extort various small city-states.
The men grunted roughly through their noses, their eyes openly appraising her, seemingly dismissive, not bothered by her presence.
Atalante, though a little nervous, still dutifully explained the general hiring fees and the key points of the contract.
Hedy paid close attention to what he was saying, but her gaze remained fixed on the mercenary leader.
The man, still wearing his helmet, was also studying her, not uttering a single word, his attitude appearing indifferent throughout.
"I understand." She sat down slowly, completely ignoring the burly man next to her, whose arms were covered in knife wounds and tattoos. "Atalante, I would like to speak with the leader privately."
Atalante glanced at the leader's reaction and made a gesture, indicating for the others to leave.
The other men looked to their leader for confirmation, then quietly exited the room.
"Luris Zino." She spoke the name aloud, looking down at the contract. "A rather suitable partner. The price isn’t outrageous either."
The leader’s voice was deep and somewhat playful, clearly not taking her seriously. "Madam, allow me to offer a word of advice."
"A mercenary band is not for you to enjoy watching knightly jousts," he said, sitting up a little straighter. The sound of his fingers rubbing together made a slight, grating noise. "Most of our clients aren’t like you—"
"Like me, what?" Hedy raised an eyebrow. "Please remove your helmet. I believe that is basic courtesy."
There was a brief moment of silence, before the man finally took off his helmet.
Hedy focused on observing the man's appearance, unable to stop herself from smiling.
He was quite handsome.
With James Dean’s sharp facial features and a small mustache reminiscent of Henry Fonda, there was a rugged charm to him, with just the right hint of a rogue.
"What are you laughing at?" Luris raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice. "Perhaps you should know that I can make sure you don’t leave this room at any time."
"I was thinking," Hedy relaxed in her seat, "whether those two little mustaches make you sneeze often. Zino—miss?"
Luris froze for a moment, a look of irritation crossing her face. "You're making a joke that isn't very clever."
"Really?" Hedy leaned in closer, observing her short hair and smooth throat. "Your voice does sound similar—and your disguise isn’t too bad overall."
The tall and muscular young woman took a deep breath, reaching up to pull off her small mustache. "If you don’t explain yourself, I’ll break your throat right now."
Her voice remained deep and magnetic, like a man’s, and her face was somewhat square. Paired with the short hair, she indeed looked like a somewhat seductive man.
If Hedy had to guess her age, the woman was probably just a couple of years older than herself.
"It’s not about the voice or appearance," Hedy poured her another half-glass of wine, her tone calm and steady. "Men don’t usually open their legs in front of someone they don’t trust."
Now Hedy understood why she managed to survive so well in a world surrounded by men.
Those burly men were probably her brothers, and people didn’t really pay attention to things like an Adam's apple—educated mercenaries were few and far between.
Luris Zino stared at her for a few seconds before snorting through her nose.
"So, why do you need mercenaries?" She swirled the wine in her glass, leaning back in her chair but removing her long boots from the table.
"First of all, I’m not anyone’s wife—at least not right now." Hedy said, slow and unhurried. "Second, one of my duties is to protect Florence."
"The French are coming."