CHAPTER 22 #3
"When I reached Lucca, you had already left three days prior. Clearly, you planned to use the French army's southward movement to seize a more favorable position—Genoa."
He spoke quickly, even struggling to catch his breath, "And I’ve heard much about your exploits."
He was from Florence, so even without leaving home, he had heard countless rumors about her.
It was said that this lady was a distant relative of the Medici family, who not only developed many drugs but also assisted her lord in capturing several cities and ports from the Roman Church during their war, before retiring just as the spotlight was at its brightest.
Meanwhile, Milan's commercial trade had suddenly flourished, and even Florence was able to buy exquisite purple oil paints that stopped people in their tracks.
He had grown increasingly eager to understand everything related to her.
The mildew disease, penicillin, and, of course, this war.
What kind of person could spend vast sums organizing such a large army? The answer was clear.
He had begun analyzing the war’s situation and the political landscape of the entire Apennine Peninsula, even knowing the financial status and weaknesses of every city-state, as though he had seen them with his own eyes.
Even without a map in hand, he could accurately analyze the obstacles and support along the way, even explaining the strategy for attacking Genoa in clear detail.
—Like a born prophet and politician.
"If anyone could unify the entire Holy Roman Empire," the boy slowed his pace, looking at her intently, "it could only be you, my lady."
And he had followed her all the way here, for the sole purpose of fulfilling the grand ambition in his heart.
Hedy casually toyed with her wine glass, not immediately responding to him.
Dechio and Luris, on the other hand, were both taken aback. They clearly couldn’t imagine that such a young boy could possess such maturity. His way of speaking and thinking was more akin to a seasoned, perceptive old fox.
"Who is your teacher?" Dechio couldn’t help but ask. "Who taught you all of this?"
The boy smiled.
"My family is poor, everything I know, I learned on my own."
——
Machiavelli was taken for a bath.
To be precise, he was scrubbed down.
After his long journey, due to his family's lack of money, he couldn't afford a hotel, let alone a bath or a change of clothes. When Dechio brought him over, they made sure to keep a bit of distance, and some passing maids and attendants would even cover their noses.
The lord endured the smell, which was akin to that of canned herring, while having the conversation. Once it was confirmed that this was a promising candidate to consider, the lord immediately handed the young man over to the male servants.
"Clean him up first, then bring him out."
The servants ended up needing six buckets of hot water to scrub him clean.
After the first two buckets were used, the water was almost as murky as mud.
The more they washed, the more the servants realized that they would need to scrub his hair by hand, and his neck and back would have to be scraped to remove the foam and grime.
After the six buckets of water were used up, and after new clothes and shoes were brought in, he was thoroughly cleaned up and taken to the lord.
Hedy had already returned to her office to read, only raising her head when she heard the noise.
...Now he looked more like a noble.
In any case, this father of modern political science came from an old family of officials.
The Machiavelli name was not only considered to be descended from the ancient Marx family but also produced thirteen judges from Florence.
In terms of heritage, it actually predates even the Medici family.
It was only in recent decades that the family had fallen into decline.
When the young man had arrived, his clothes were ragged, and he looked like a scavenger, with only his dark, bright eyes standing out. But after trimming his short hair and changing into proper attire, he looked as if he had suddenly transformed into a young nobleman.
The dark-haired, dark-eyed youth was naturally fair-skinned and tall, with a refined manner of speech and behavior. Now dressed in a silvery satin long coat with breeches, his legs and waistline were as if sculpted by the hand of God.
Hedy scanned him from top to bottom, vaguely unable to remember his previous dirty, foul-smelling appearance. She nodded in approval to the attendant behind him.
"Hedy—are you looking for me?" Leonardo strode in, pausing when he saw the boy. Suddenly, he asked, "Machiavelli?"
The latter quickly turned around, instinctively taking a step back, his voice rising in excitement. "Are you—Mr. Da Vinci?!"
Da Vinci blinked. "I remember your speech on the street five years ago. It was certainly impressive."
"It's Mr. Da Vinci!" Machiavelli seemed to revert to being a little boy again. He even turned to Hedy to confirm the truth. "He's really here—he's the one who saved our entire city during the Battle of Florence!"
In fact, after Florence had endured two wars in the south, Leonardo had already become a well-known figure in the city. Even children would rush up to him for hugs, and women would bring their infants to seek his blessings and touch.
Hedy, clearly used to such fanfare, remained unfazed.
When Michelangelo had first met him, he nearly leapt into his arms, and even the little pride he had shown in front of her before seemed fake. As for Niccolò, in front of her, he appeared as a serious and earnest orator, but when he saw Leonardo, he couldn’t help but grin widely.
It seemed that all the boys had a strong sense of heroism...
"Actually," she cleared her throat, "I was introducing him to you so that you could become teacher and student."
"Teacher! Student!"
This boy was still young enough to learn more.
Raphael and Michelangelo were both diligently growing at the Platonic Academy in Florence. Though the educational environment wasn’t ideal, Da Vinci could certainly be a great teacher.
"Machiavelli—"
"My lord, you and Teacher Da Vinci can call me Niccolò!" The young man beamed a wide smile. "No need to be so formal!"
"Niccolò is my newly hired advisor," Hedy readily agreed. "Leonardo, when you have time, could you teach him some Latin and Greek?"
"Of course," Leonardo said warmly, patting the boy's head. "I’ve brought a lot of books with me, and I can lend them all to him."
Leonardo was always generous and friendly to others, even when meeting them for the first time, never putting up too many defenses.
Niccolò did his best to hide his excitement and joy, bowing deeply. "Thank you!"
And so, the arrangement was made.
While the attendants helped Niccolò settle into his quarters, a guest from the northwest finally arrived in a hurry.
—The French ambassador rushed over, tasked with negotiating a peace deal for the Republic of Genoa.
It was quite a coincidence that this happened; the boy had made a prophecy in the morning, and by afternoon, it had come true.
Hedy instructed her staff to settle the ambassador and rang a bell, signaling her secretary Dechio to bring the soothsayer back.
She had an inkling that this event was coming.
The French weren’t typically quick to act in such matters, but their presence now was extraordinarily special.
From the Duchy of Luca to La Spezia, and in repelling multiple Genoese attacks, their efficiency and lethality were unmatched.
These were things the other city-states had never witnessed before.
Though the matchlock rifle had been constantly improved since its creation, it wasn’t until the past year that its killing power had reached a truly terrifying level.
Other city-states might need ten days or even months to lay siege, but the army led by this woman moved swiftly and decisively, and it was clear that they were poised to expand westward.
To the west of Genoa, the cities were rich in resources and had many ports, and more importantly, they served as a natural gateway between France and the Holy Roman Empire.
Once the balance was disturbed, she could easily use that strange weapon, rumored to be the "devil's cannon," to smash the walls of Bourbon city.
Hedy had no intention of signing any peace treaties. In just ten days, her army would be setting off again, and this time, they would bring even more supplies for the siege.
But diplomacy, in truth, was an art.
As a newly appointed lord, she had many ambitions and plans but had never truly tried something so concrete before. Meanwhile, the mercenary leaders and officers had little knowledge of politics.
At this point, the presence of a consultant became very necessary.
—How should she respond and act to maximize her benefits?
When Niccolò arrived, he was still wearing perfume with a hint of iris flower scent.
"My lord," he greeted with a bow, "What can I do for you?"
Hedy gestured for Dechio to spread out the map and briefly explained the situation to him.
"The French have arrived?" The young man raised his eyebrows and laughed. "I’m sure they’ve brought plenty of gifts, haven’t they?"
"They say they're here to mediate on behalf of the Republic of Genoa," Hedy replied slowly, "But we all know what they really want to discuss."
What they wanted to protect wasn’t the fate of that small nation but their own efforts to prevent retaliation for crossing their borders.
Niccolò rested his chin on his hand as he sat across from her, his gaze fixed on the fragmented and complex map of the peninsula. After a long pause, he spoke. "We need a comprehensive reason."
Hedy smiled with satisfaction.
Launching a war usually required a reason.
War itself was always full of bloodshed and evil, and strictly speaking, there was no absolute justice.
But a strong enough reason would lure more people into battle, offering them considerable honor and spoils of war.