CHAPTER 31
Henry VII was quite a fascinating figure.
Europe was embroiled in complex factional struggles, with each country tangled in numerous long and ancient stories, much like a spinning spindle.
The knowledge that Hedy had retained from her previous life was now completely—completely insufficient.
She was like a beginner, trying to understand various situations from different countries through different organizations, and had to rely on her own judgment to determine which rumors were true.
Henry VII had only ascended the throne four years ago. He was also a young and ambitious monarch—at least that's how history would later judge him.
However, the intelligence gathered so far pointed to one thing.
— He was currently the best ally Italy could have, without exception.
During the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, Hedy renamed the intelligence agency under her command, calling it "The Oracle."
This name was somewhat sacrilegious, considering that it was the monarch, not God, who truly led and gave instructions.
On the other hand, this was much like the relationship between the Church and the Parliament.
Reversing things could sometimes be a good thing.
Thanks to Lorenzo, The Oracle had already established extensive networks overseas over the past decade. With continuous financial support, the flow of information and communication had become faster, and they had provided crucial intelligence during many battles.
Soon after Hedy ascended to power, The Oracle sent news claiming they had encountered a British spy in France.
— Although spies wouldn’t openly expose themselves with a visible stamp, those who worked in the same trade always had the sharpest instincts.
In the following months, similar reports came from Spain, Hungary, Scotland, and other countries.
But this was completely contradictory to the public actions of the English King.
Most of the public opinion considered him to be “gentle and benevolent,” “diligent in governance,” and “humble and studious,” much like an evaluation of a harmless lamb.
He was quietly expanding the scope and depth of his intelligence network, controlling the political landscape of Northern Europe, while outwardly maintaining an air of calm and gentleness.
And indifference.
"Last year, at this time, the French army invaded the Brittany Peninsula," Niccolo said slowly. "Many neighboring countries united in a resistance against France, but England didn't react at all."
"Just like us," Leonardo added, spooning another dollop of milk into his tea. "He knows England can't afford to act right now."
Rather than the so-called 'justice' or 'glory,' he needed to defend something more important.
"I heard he struggles with his lineage?" Hedy took the small porcelain cup and sipped. "Is it the same problem as Sforza—both having a usurper’s stain on their family history?"
"Not just that," Leonardo placed the small teapot aside and motioned for Niccolo to try a cup as well. "If we look at bloodlines alone, he's less legitimate than his mother, Lady Margaret."
The young king had spent much of his youth fleeing and hiding, eventually using the War of the Roses as an opportunity for his mother to support him to the throne. It had been a difficult journey.
His bloodline and origins meant he couldn't gain the recognition of certain ancient families. Moreover, his monarchy was increasingly disturbed by the growing power of the parliament, making his crown feel like shackles on a prisoner’s wrists.
This was precisely why it was understandable that he would take the risk of seeking an alliance with the Italian Empire.
A prisoner can't free himself from his chains, but he can seek external help.
When Henry VII arrived at the port of Pisa, the reception was grand and luxurious. The emperor and empress personally arrived to offer him warm and sincere greetings.
Together, they returned to Florence, where they received countless welcomes and entourages from the nobility.
Although the young king was a bit surprised, he maintained his composure and demeanor, speaking gracefully and with confidence at the banquet.
Once the extravagant praises and the ball came to an end, the nobles and senators gradually left, leaving the monarchs with time for themselves.
He was accompanied by few officials, and his words were careful and conservative.
Hedy listened to their speeches and demands for half an hour, sipping her tea, before finally raising her hand to signal for a pause.
She didn't have much patience for formalities.
"Let's be more direct," the queen said as she looked at him, lifting her gaze and smiling. "Niccolo Machiavelli, bring over the cooperation agreement."
The four printed copies of the agreement were handed to the Englishman, with clear and straightforward terms outlining the obligations and rights, as well as the specifics of the cooperation.
People exchanged astonished and admiring glances, and the entire conference hall fell into silence.
"I will delegate Mr. Machiavelli to explain and elaborate on the agreement," she said as she stood calmly. "I hope you can review it and provide a list of amendments within five days, after which we can proceed to the next phase of discussions."
The remarkable yet unacknowledged strength of modern people lies in their ability to "quantify."
Compared to the strange allure of groundbreaking technology, many unique aspects of thought can also have a remarkably intimidating effect.
Quantification refers to the direct and clear breakdown and summary of a task's steps, expected outcomes, risk management, cost estimates, and other related factors.
This way of thinking can save a tremendous amount of time while broadening and clarifying many aspects of understanding.
Hedy left the tedious and complex work to the upper and lower houses, reserving the careful middle-level decisions for her closest advisors. Over the past two years, she had been gradually establishing a straightforward approach to meetings and execution procedures.
Once the queen and her entourage had left, the officials around Henry VII could no longer suppress their whispering.
"Your Majesty—she wants to engage in academic cooperation with us! And we can send students to Italy now!"
"The queen actually wants to exchange more ports? She wants to discuss trade matters with you?!"
"My God, Your Majesty, look at page seventeen!"
Henry VII had initially thought that this visit would involve a lot of probing and verbal sparring, and that he would inevitably spend much time maneuvering with diplomats.
But he never imagined that from the first day they arrived in Florence until the fifth day, all their time would be spent reading! Documents!
And five days were truly not enough. He had to visit the queen again and managed to get an additional five days.
A group of officials examined the meticulously worded agreements over and over. No amount of tea could alleviate their dizziness.
This was absolutely insane!
Who on earth could write so many pages of material in such detail?!
Machiavelli, the head of the writing team, calmly sat with them, drinking tea and reviewing the documents, his expression still relaxed and composed.
Nearly a thousand detailed requests were clearly outlined, and he could recite them all from memory.
At first, the officials were too embarrassed to ask him directly, but soon they lined up to verify and confirm, even trying to knock on his door in the middle of the night to get clearer answers.
The scope of the cooperation was vast, and there was no room for any loopholes.
From intelligence sharing, map exploration, scientific research cooperation, to a shared stance on France and Spain, every tense and setting shifted seamlessly, and the writing was even more "British" than the British themselves.
At first, Henry VII tried to involve himself in the matter, but after five days of reading, he felt a migraine coming on and decided to hand everything over to his poor subordinates. He took his guards and went to find the queen for tea.
He still had many things to think through and couldn’t afford to spend all his time on that stack of parchment.
"You’ve finally arrived?" Hedy smiled as she stood up, and the prince beside her put down the sugar spoon, greeting him with a smile.
"Maybe I was a bit slow to react," Henry VII said leisurely, "and I must have embarrassed you."
"I used to hear British merchants say that their king is constantly handling state affairs, doing everything himself from dawn to dusk," Hedy gestured for him to sit beside her, as Dechio, standing behind her, brought over freshly brewed tea.
"Now it seems that this isn’t such a good thing," Henry VII sighed, raising his tea cup. "We have certainly felt the sincerity of the Italian Empire—"
Seven hundred sixty-four pages of sincerity, which nearly blinded him from the reading.
"But there are some things I would like to consult with you about privately." His gaze darkened as he glanced at Leonardo beside him, as if confirming.
"He is trustworthy," Hedy said calmly. "Please, feel free to speak."
"I want to ask…" Henry VII took a deep breath, struggling against his inner indecision. "How did you gain your freedom?"
This was the question he had always wanted to understand.
This freedom wasn’t about having private time—it was about how to exercise and expand his power.
The parliament, the nobility, the finances, the military, and the interference and threats from various countries—they all trapped his actions and choices like a quagmire, leaving him nearly immobile.
Becoming the supreme ruler was a lonely affair, for it meant the number of people he could consult or seek help from would only decrease.
His father had already passed, and his mother had no relevant experience either.
Yet, every decision, every careful consideration, ultimately rested solely on his shoulders.