Baron Olbia burst through the doors with a loud slam, making his entrance as dramatic as possible.
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“What on earth are you all doing? Aren’t you ashamed to call yourselves knights?!”
None of the council members had served in the military, but they were all heirs of families sworn to the Olbia household, trained from youth in the knightly virtues. Though they hadn’t spent years as pages in another noble house, they’d learned horsemanship, how to fight in armor, and how to speak respectfully to ladies at balls. Each of them had been knighted by Baron Olbia himself.
None dared to retort. The baron was in the right, and opposing him would be a death wish.
“Sit down, everyone. Take a moment to calm yourselves and have some tea.”
Clenching his teeth, Baron Olbia struggled to keep his composure. In a situation this tense, a reckless choice could plunge his entire household into deeper chaos. If, by the smallest chance, this tension erupted into outright conflict among his vassals, there would be no turning back.
If a civil dispute broke out within his domain, the Emperor would waste no time seizing control.
I have to resolve this crisis, no matter what.
“Are we all a bit calmer now?” he asked.
Though the anger still simmered within them, the vassals knew they had to wait and listen. Otherwise, they’d become easy targets for the already frustrated pack of wolves around them. One by one, they nodded in reluctant agreement.
“No one is to blame for this situation. No rat betrayed us, nor was there any slip-up in intelligence that exposed us.”
Despite his own words, the baron could not fully conceal his frustration. His hands clenched tightly, enough for his knuckles to turn white.
Seeing his restrained fury, his vassals could only hold back their own tempers.
“Some unknown scoundrel outmaneuvered us, and we were simply on the losing end. Therefore, I’ll hold no one—least of all our intelligence officer—accountable.”
Inside, Baron Olbia felt his pride and resolve twist bitterly. Hunting down a traitor within the family without a single lead would only amplify the family’s internal strife. I have to endure this.
Then, the chief military officer protested. “I appreciate your grace, my lord. But can we really sit back, hands tied, after such an insult to our house?”
Baron Olbia slammed his hands onto the table.
“You think I don’t want to find out who did this? But we have no evidence! Nothing to go on! Chasing shadows serves no purpose.”
“But...”
“It will only lead to more division! If the Olbia family crumbles under this blame game, what will become of us all? Shall we end up on the streets?”
The military officer gritted his teeth, stifling his desire to argue because he had no valid counter.
“As much as I want to find the culprit and tear them apart, it enrages me every time I see that madman Mancini from the High Court seal up our warehouses and impose fines under the pretext of taxes.”
As the saying goes, “one’s misfortune is another’s happiness.” Mancini and Al Dante reveled in their success, thinking the world couldn’t be more beautiful. Opportunities to ransack a barony’s hidden vaults were rare.
“It wasn’t just tax evasion or minor infractions; the biggest problem was the sale of useless serfs. What good are beggars to society? Selling them off should’ve been the end of it.”
Serfs were viewed more as property than as people, often bartered like land. Male and female serfs, especially those without land to farm, were frequently sold to pay off debts in place of gold or silver. The issue was that he’d sold them without reporting the transaction, and these serfs had ended up with merchants who later sold them to “heretics.”
Though he hadn’t directly participated, the incident left the Olbia family facing heavy fines and a tarnished reputation.
Enduring this humiliation is the only way to survive.
Baron Olbia had no intention of losing his lavish lifestyle, so he had to put on a brave face and convince his vassals to accept it as well. After all, none of them wish to lose their current privileges.
“Our house has taken a serious blow, and the High Court and the imperial authorities have marked us. It would be wise to leave Florence to mitigate the disciplinary action, preserving what dignity we can.”
Tuscany had about three hundred noble families, from barons to marquises. Around half of them maintained costly roots in Florence to keep their political influence, as leaving the city meant a near-total loss of political clout. For Baron Olbia, stepping away from Florence felt like entering a prison. He would be far removed from the political sphere, balls, and the very heart of power.
“If we depart before being ordered to, the High Court’s penalties may be softened, and at least we’ll preserve some dignity. Moving to the estate will reduce our expenses, easing our financial strain. Isn’t that so, Lucio?” he asked, directing his words at the financial steward.
Lucio, who had successfully betrayed his lord without leaving a trace, flinched inwardly but kept his reaction well-hidden.
“If you petition Duke Sforza, the merchants won’t pressure us to repay our debts immediately. Relocating to the estate would also cut expenses by almost half.”
Swallowing his pride, the baron announced, “To survive, let’s all prepare to return to Olbia’s territory. I’ll inform Duke Sforza of my decision to withdraw.”
With that, he turned, leaving a trail of tears on the floor behind him, cursing the unknown enemy in his heart.
But from the perspective of his unseen adversary, this outcome was natural. Cutting off one’s limbs before going for the kill was simply self-defense.
Kris briefed me on the final outcome in a concise report.
“Baron Olbia declared he would return to his estate shortly after the High Court’s investigation began.”
For nobles like me, living in Florence was about more than luxury. Residing here meant more power and opportunities to amass wealth. That’s why half-barons, barons, and viscounts alike flocked to Florence despite having estates elsewhere, much like moving to the capital for better job prospects.
And yet he’s leaving for the countryside?
Essentially, he’s begging for mercy, hoping to survive by sacrificing all his privileges and entitlements.
“Pity I couldn’t be the one to cut his throat,” I said with a tinge of regret.
“Still, neither Baron Olbia nor anyone else has any inkling that the Rothschild family was involved. Isn’t it too much to ask for more?” Kris replied.
She was right; wanting more would just be greedy.
“You’re absolutely correct.”
“And now that everything is settled...”
Before she could finish, someone interrupted us.
“The Duke is here. He says he’d like to see his handsome son-in-law.”
I guess our relationship was close enough now that he no longer bothered pretending there was any official business behind his visit.
“I’ll head to the drawing room.”
Time to see if the duke has noticed any of our moves.