Roberto, now a member of the Rothschild family’s intelligence division, once part of a mere information guild, was pushing himself to his limits, his strength wrung out like a rag.
“Ugh... Nineteen!” he groaned, struggling to complete exercise number eight, lying on his back with arms stretched out, only his lower body moving.
After all the extreme drills they had been through, calling this part a “cool down” made him question if his instructor was even human.
But he knew that any complaint would earn him a swift correction from the dreaded “discipline rod,” meted out with what they called “the love of tough teaching.”
‘Please, just don’t make us hear that cursed last chant...’
“....”
Fortunately, this time the dreaded chant didn’t come.
Roberto thanked the heavens that, at least today, no idiot had done something to trigger it.
“All, on your feet!”
The trainees rose, covered in dirt, from their positions.
Roberto was grateful to see that the brutal day’s training had come to an end.
Though he’d still be rolling around tomorrow like a pig in a mud pit, he decided to block that dreadful thought from his mind for now.
“You have fifteen minutes to wash up, change, and gather in front of the mess hall.”
“Yes, sir!”
Without a word of complaint, Roberto and his fellow soldiers, future agents of the Rothschild family, sprinted off to clean up.
They had no energy left to even talk, and with time short, they had to rinse themselves, wipe off with a cloth, and change quickly.
With their minds so focused on the routine, they had no space for thoughts of family or anything else.
‘If I’m late to assembly, I’ll be doing calisthenics for at least an hour.’
They rushed to wash up and barely made it in time.
“At this rate, we’ll be dead before we even start the real work.”
The instructors led Roberto and the others to the mess hall as soon as they arrived.
Despite the harsh training, smiles appeared on the faces of the trainees—at least the food here was excellent.
Roberto could already feel his mouth watering.
“Take your trays and plates, line up in two lines, and collect your meal. If anyone starts eating before being seated like that idiot the other day, that person will spend a ‘hot night’ with me after the meal.”
By “hot night,” he didn’t mean anything improper. It simply meant that while others enjoyed rest and wrote letters to their families, the unlucky one would be doing grueling exercises out in the moonlight.
Just thinking about it gave him chills.
‘The first week, they had us rolling around at night for all kinds of infractions...’
Coming from the slums, where order and discipline were nonexistent, they had scoffed at rules like “don’t make noise.”
They hadn’t started riots for booze and money as they used to, but they had ignored instructions to keep quiet.
For their trouble, Lupo and the other instructors had assigned them intense drills under the moonlight.
A few fools had even tried to protest but were swiftly subdued by Lupo, who, despite his age, had them pinned in seconds.
They were then pushed to their limits—right to the edge.
“They were driven nearly to death.”
If anyone seemed like they might collapse, the instructor would pull them out for a break; anyone who could be pushed further would be given the choice to either face the “discipline rod” or keep running.
Reflecting on this, Roberto sat down instinctively.
Then Lupo, the head instructor, called out loudly.
“This meal was made possible by the Rothschild family’s resources, so eat every bit with gratitude!”
“With gratitude!”
Roberto looked down at his meal.
Chicken stew, white bread made from wheat, baked beans with meat—delicacies he could only dream of back in the slums.
Here, they were served meals like this three times a day.
The training might have been brutal enough to make him consider running away several times a day, but...
‘Could we ever have eaten like this without the Baron?’
Absolutely not.
Following the Baron’s path meant his family and he could eat like this every day from now on.
With gratitude in his heart, Roberto ate every last drop of his meal.
Usually, after a meal, they would be sent back for individual maintenance and rest, but today there was no such order.
Having their break time interrupted meant either someone had messed up significantly, or there was good news.
‘What’s going on?’
“All, attention!”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the instructor.
“I’ve just received some joyous news! Roberto, congratulations.”
Roberto was baffled to receive sudden congratulations.
“Uh... for what, sir?”
“Your wife is pregnant. Congratulations on becoming a father.”
The instructor clapped him on the shoulder.
Tears began to fall from Roberto’s eyes.
He had been born in the slums, resigned to a life rotting away in filth, but the Rothschild Baron had given him a completely new life.
He had never thought he’d be able to hold his own child.
“Is it true?”
“It’s news from the women’s association. Here, a letter from your wife herself.”
Fabio had organized the wives of the agents into an association for support and protection, given that the agents had many restrictions placed on them.
For the women, who weren’t burdened with harsh obligations, it was simply a close-knit community, and they welcomed it.
“You can read the letter later. Congratulations again.”
Tears continued to stream from Roberto’s eyes.
Back in the slums, he couldn’t have even dreamed of having children or marrying; he had simply scrabbled to survive one day at a time.
Yet a wave of worry washed over him as well.
His wife would have difficulty moving around after giving birth, and without him, who would help?
But he couldn’t desert from training...
‘What am I supposed to do?’
While it was joyful news, the concerns were piling up.
“Don’t worry about your wife being alone. The association will provide some support, and the Baron will ensure she’s looked after.”
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Technically, Fabio didn’t personally handle the individual affairs of each agent’s family.
But he had set up family support systems for them.
“Your family will receive a chicken each week, along with other provisions like eggs. When it’s time for the birth, a midwife trained at the Medici Hospital will assist.”
Though Roberto had lived as a commoner, he knew about the Medici Hospital.
‘Even nobles have to wait in line there.’
And now a midwife from that hospital would assist with the birth?
Roberto, who had only known life in the slums, could hardly comprehend it.
“After the birth, a maid will regularly assist with chores and provide nourishment until she recovers.”
These maids weren’t like noble housemaids but widows from nearby.
“They’ll even provide seaweed, good for her health. She’ll be in good hands, even better than if you were there yourself.”
“Thank you!”
Lupo laughed, lightly tapping him on the head.
“It’s all thanks to the Baron’s grace, not mine. Looks like you still need more ‘loyalty training.’”
“My apologies!”
“And does apologizing end your training?”
“No, sir!”
Though it was typically said in chastisement, both were genuinely happy, laughing together.
“I’ll keep an eye on you during today’s loyalty training, so do your best.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Alright, if everyone’s done eating, prepare for the loyalty session immediately.”
Sebastian approached, carrying a report on the expenses for the agents.
“Baron, are you certain it’s worth spending so much on these men?”
The guild had brought in 80 people, with annual maintenance costs amounting to over two gold coins per head—a considerable sum for ordinary employees.
“Sebastian, loyalty can indeed be bought with money.”
If you demand overtime while paying someone pennies, you’re a villain. But if you double their wages in exchange for a bit of overtime, do you think they’ll see you as a villain?
It’s tough during the work itself, but people will feel compensated.
‘After all, many professionals sacrifice their weekends for jobs they hold onto for life.’
And our agents are bringing in information worth far more than a couple of gold coins.
When the Rothschild family nearly collapsed, they received news about the Battle of Waterloo “days” earlier than others.
They invested everything they had, spread false rumors about Napoleon’s victory, and bought up British bonds that had crashed.
A few days later, when the true news came through, they sold the bonds, raising the family from ruin to wealth as a hereditary barony.
Information is priceless.
“To make money, you mustn’t skimp on investment. Spend when buying goods, spend to satisfy customers, and treat those involved well enough to make them feel they’d die for you.”
Of course, when a company’s struggling, labor costs are often the first to be cut.
But we’re in a phase of growth.
“The training’s complete, and the agents are in the field, but we’ve already had one detained.”
Though I had the Duke and the Emperor’s favor, my current standing was similar to a rising young congressman from the ruling party.
As my influence grew, the Spórza Ducal family, the opposition, found themselves increasingly marginalized.
‘It’s natural that they’re trying to contain me.’
“Bring Kris in as well. It’s time to stir things up properly.”