“Haha, Fabio. You’re like the golden goose of the Visconti family.”

    By the way he was addressing me, you’d think he wasn’t even remotely troubled by the 12 tons of steel that were stolen in transit.

    The amount lost might seem like a large sum, but in comparison to the profits we’re making, it’s practically insignificant. But that some pest dared to tarnish the duke’s authority, and he’s still smiling?

    It means he already has the situation under control.

    “I’m honored,” I replied.

    “You don’t try to distance yourself from it, do you?” he noted.

    “Denying the consequences of my actions would be an insult to Your Grace’s dignity, wouldn’t it?”

    The ironworks venture has benefitted more than just me.

    The duke received 20% of the profits, plus he must’ve earned substantial political influence by currying favor with various nobles through steel.

    “To think someone at your age could already appreciate the true value of their work. I guess exceptional people really are different. You have to be at least this capable to be able to put a bishop in his place at a church court. I don’t think I could ever best you with words.”

    A vassal should never seem better than their lord.

    It’s unwise to simply accept praise like, “Yes, that’s true,” even if it’s honest. It would come off as arrogant.

    Even if I am more capable than the duke, I must always act as if I’m beneath him, or else I’ll be looked upon with suspicion.

    “It was simply Deus guiding me, and Christian saying the wrong things, which allowed me to respond. I would never dare to match wits with Your Grace,” I replied.

    The duke seemed to savor my words.

    Not that I’m a beautiful woman, but still.

    “That’s enough chit-chat. Butler, bring it here.”

    The butler handed me a document, heavy with flowery language and oaths to the divine.

    The longer and more ornate it was, the more weight it carried. But what mattered most was a single line of text:

    “Of the total steel sales revenue of 124,217 pounds, 80%, or 99,373 pounds, will be paid out.”

    “That’s nearly ten thousand gold coins.”

    They say if you run a business or even handle finance, you’ll eventually have to manage eye-watering sums of money. But now that I’m holding such an amount in my hands, it’s surreal.

    I’d seen cartoons where characters would get nosebleeds from massive profits, and now I kind of get it.

    This is sexier than sex.

    “You’re truly rich now. Soon, you could even be earning twice, maybe even three times as much.”

    “Thank you, Your Grace.”

    “It’s simply the result of a fair contract between us. No need for thanks. But aren’t you curious?”

    “Curious about what?”

    The duke gave me a devilish smile.

    In the end, as long as you placate the emperor, you can get away with anything.

    In the 21st century, the rule of law is paramount, but in this medieval legal system, the highborn can kill whoever they want, as long as the judge pretends to care about justice.

    “Offer to supply steel to the imperial family at a discounted rate—80% of the market price.”

    “Wouldn’t you take a loss?”

    For the duke, the political leverage gained from supplying the imperial family outweighs the income from steel.

    He wouldn’t mind losing a bit if it increased his influence.

    But I care more about profit than politics, so this would mean a significant loss for me.

    “As Your Grace’s vassal, I can’t let my own interests prevent you from seizing an opportunity. It’s important to have a long-term vision.”

    My declaration of loyalty still didn’t seem to fully satisfy him.

    He’s spent a lifetime managing people with carrots and sticks.

    I’d only known him a few months, so he’s likely unsure of my intentions. I can’t blame him.

    “I want to live long and large. I want to enjoy wealth and luxury, not die a miserable death.”

    For now, I’m delaying marriage to focus on building wealth and status.

    It’s about the time that the nobility would start to label me an ‘old bachelor.’

    “By offering the imperial family steel at a discounted rate, gain the right to trade steel without the blacksmith guild’s involvement.”

    The duke didn’t look entirely pleased with my suggestion.

    “If I go against the guild, the other guilds might unite and refuse to supply goods to our faction.”

    For a noble to unilaterally crush a guild without cause would lead to a unified boycott, cutting off supplies.

    It’d be a catastrophe.

    “With the emperor’s blessing, no one can challenge you for destroying the guild that dared to plunder a noble’s convoy.”

    With the justification on our side, there’s no risk of a united guild boycott.

    “If you secure the right, the Florence blacksmith guild will be yours, and you could even raise prices for arms sold to the Sforza family.”

    The Florence blacksmith guild is the head of all blacksmith guilds in the Tosca Empire.

    While this isn’t enough to enforce absolute control, it’s enough to raise prices on steel products by 20% when selling to the Sforza.

    Considering the volume they buy, they’ll feel the pain.

    “I may lose a little profit, but I’m sure Your Grace will make up for it.”

    At last, he smiled—a smile full of malicious intent.

    “Then let’s do just that. And when this is all over, I’ll have another reward ready for you.”

    “It will be my honor.”

    “I trust you’ll handle the acquisition of the blacksmith guild smoothly.”