"Why does Baron Olbia keep provoking me? I can't understand why he’s putting himself through all this trouble. Don’t you agree, Chloe?" I asked.
Seated at the small desk beside me, Chloe paused her writing and answered, “It seems he doesn’t realize that nothing good ever comes from crossing you, young master. You never unsheathe your sword without a reason.”
It would be foolish to reveal family secrets to a mere maid, especially given the secrecy required in the life of a “shadow player.” But Chloe and Kris were exceptions. Chloe, after all, wasn’t just anyone—she was intensely devoted to me. Our newly appointed information officer, Rossi, had even gone through all Chloe and Kris’s backgrounds meticulously, reporting that the chance of betrayal from either was non-existent.
In Chloe’s case, her loyalty was so ardent that I sometimes thought her reason for living was simply to admire me. The risk of her breaching security was likely lower than the odds of being struck by lightning, followed by a car crash on the way to the hospital. Worrying about a leak from her was foolish.
“If they’ve dared to target me, then they should be prepared to face the consequences. For the sake of protecting you, Kris, and our family.”
Even if their actions had not yet succeeded, an attempted plot was more than enough justification for a lesson—to prevent further threats. After all, some corrective “education” was always warranted, especially when it came to those who tried to commit acts of terrorism.
"So, I dug into Baron Olbia's weaknesses. There are more than a few, and I’d love to expose them myself, but it wouldn’t be feasible.”
Speaking candidly to Chloe was like pouring my thoughts out to myself, and she responded with a complete understanding of my intentions.
“If you personally took action without suffering a direct injury, you’d risk punishment, wouldn’t you? Plus, if they question how you obtained the information, critics would slander you as a sneaky rat, eavesdropping on other houses.”
This was why education mattered. When I’d first taken her in, she hadn’t even been able to write her own name, yet here she was, grasping and analyzing the nature of noble society. The higher ranks of the Toscana Empire had a strong tendency to view the low-born as inherently lacking in ability. But, that was purely due to unequal access to education.
I should take Chloe and Kris on a little outing in three days, I thought, deciding they deserved a reward.
"You’ve been studying hard," I said, patting her head. Chloe’s smile was like that of someone who’d just received the world.
“So, what do you think I’ll do next?”
“The head butler once mentioned that in such cases, it’s best to send an anonymous tip to a trusted judge at the High Court.”
Hiring someone to send an anonymous tip made tracking impossible in this era. And knowing a judge was a useful resource, not unlike building connections in the courts. No one would know it was from me, of course.
And if my contacts ascended the ranks, it’d raise my chances of leniency in any criminal trials. A win-win situation.
“That’s the safest and most straightforward option. You’ve really been studying.”
However, anonymous letters still left a slight risk. If handwriting analysis could expose the source, then it wasn’t aligned with the principles of shadow dealing. In Chloe’s scenario, if anyone suspected me, I’d face relentless attacks from the Sforza faction.
“So, there’s always a chance they could trace it back with handwriting analysis,” I noted.
Hiring someone else to write it could reduce the risk, but there was an even safer method.
“Which is why, once again, I’ll just spread a rumor.”
Chloe’s ears perked up as she listened intently.
"A simple rumor about Baron Olbia’s corruption. Just that should have the High Court eager to dig into him."
A Korean history-major friend once told me that to become a high-ranking official in the Joseon era, one had to first gain experience in the “clean offices” and remove a few corrupt officials along the way. It was dizzying to think about—like requiring a low-ranking manager to impeach a company president to secure a promotion. In our High Court, similar dynamics applied.
Removing a noble with clear criminal charges earned considerable advancement points. Chief Judge Mancini and Deputy Judge Al Dante had each risen by dethroning members of the upper class. Once the rumors were spread, several officials would be eager to launch a financial audit, if only to boost their careers. After all, the High Court was filled with people who’d sell their souls to climb the ladder.
“And rumors never leave evidence behind,” I continued.
No matter the country, ominous rumors and pamphlets always circulated, yet the culprits were rarely caught. Often, the source only emerged if someone “confessed” of their own accord.
And if the rumors came from lowly servants?
No one would even notice.
“With this, everything should settle smoothly. Those who dared to challenge the Rothschild family will be left trembling, unsure of who struck them.”
Of course, others wouldn’t fear our house specifically, as our involvement wouldn’t be obvious. Still, in a situation like this, desiring too much was problematic.
Overeager ambition is punished. Just as you can’t eat greasy grilled pork belly with fried kimchi and expect health benefits.
“You truly are thorough, young master,” Chloe said.
Being thorough prevented the horrendous experience of redoing work—if not worse.
Then, I contacted our spies, instructing them to spread the rumor from a “suitable location.”
Deputy Judge Al Dante of the High Court
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Ambition was everything to him. In the High Court, all judges were bent on achieving recognition, so his drive wasn’t unusual.
His wife had started experiencing morning sickness recently, hadn’t she? Unlike other nobles of similar rank, they’d married purely out of love, and he cherished her deeply.
“Lord Rothschild did promise to secure a spot for her at Medici Hospital during childbirth, but... As a husband, I want to provide her with the finest care during her recovery.”
Of course, he couldn’t be by her side, but he hoped she’d regain her health quickly and embrace the joy of holding their child.
“I’ll work harder today,” he resolved.
Serving Baron Rothschild was as valuable as serving an earl, if not more. His talents, the emperor’s and duke’s favor, even his marriage to the granddaughter of a duke’s official wife—Lord Rothschild was bound to reach the rank of earl.
With such support, a lifelong effort might, just might, lead to elevation within the High Court.
As a father, he wished to pass down a better title and standing to his beloved child.
Just as he steeled himself to give his all, he overheard the investigators gossiping.
Debating whether to scold them, he overheard, “Did you hear? The servants of Baron Olbia are living lavishly these days. They’re apparently getting those expensive Café Medici cakes.”
Al Dante perked up, subtly listening to the chatter.
Years of experience in the judiciary whispered to him, This could shake down a bounty of information.
"And I heard their stable hands are even wearing armor and carrying swords," one of the investigators added.
Al Dante took hold of the speaker.
“Tell me more. In detail.”