As soon as the Duke saw me, he pulled me into a tight embrace.
"My son-in-law! You’re looking as impressive as ever. You’ve grown even more distinguished in just a few months!"
We were in my estate, after all, but was it really necessary for him to put on this kind of display in front of all the servants? I silently prayed he would keep it short, but he showed no sign of stopping, singing my praises as enthusiastically as ever.
"Before I chose you as my son-in-law, I used to worry day and night that some scoundrel would come along and snatch away my dear Erika. But giving her to you? Not a regret in the world! Sure, the fact that you're a baron might be a minor inconvenience, but who cares about that between us?"
“I’m deeply honored by such generous praise,” I replied, maintaining my composure.
He and the Visconti Duke must have said some variation of this over a hundred times by now. Not an exaggeration—I’d counted, and this was the 102nd instance. I understood they liked me, but why all the dramatics? Given their high status, there wasn’t much I could say.
So this is why they say if you’re frustrated, you should aim higher.
The servants, having prepared coffee and refreshments, left us alone. The moment they exited, the Duke’s expression shifted. He still smiled, but now it held a serious undertone. The exaggerated show of affection had been more than just fondness; there had been a calculated purpose behind it.
"You must’ve been a bit surprised by the hug,” he said. “But there’s a reason I had to do that."
I already had a good idea why. To send a legitimate daughter from the Duchess to marry a mere baron in a “mixed marriage” was a scandal. The Visconti Duke’s faction was likely against it, and this display was meant to make it seem as though he were pressuring me into the marriage. Without this, I’d probably be facing all sorts of “resentment” and “jealousy” from the faction.
Though if that were the case, I’d simply handle them like the Olbia family.
Avoiding conflicts is always preferable, though, so I played along, pretending not to understand.
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“What’s the reason?”
The Duke chuckled, clearly amused. “Trying to feign ignorance? I know full well that you’ve already guessed, Fabio.”
So he wasn’t going to let me off even after I played along. It was a bit disappointing.
“It seems there’s been significant opposition.”
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Pitiful fools who can’t handle seeing a young man rise above them. If only they’d acknowledge it and work with you, everyone would benefit.”
To respond with anything about my own “lowly status” would be idiotic; it would come off as dismissive of the Duke’s and the Visconti’s goodwill. But agreeing outright would imply I was slighting the nobles in their faction. According to the wisdom of diplomacy, I kept quiet, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“Sure, their families have served us for generations, but when it comes down to personal accomplishments, you outshine them all. If they had any sense, they’d swallow their pride and acknowledge it.”
In principle, he was right. But even in friendships where no material gain is involved, someone else’s success can strain the relationship. That’s why there’s a saying that the only people who can truly celebrate your success are your parents.
And that’s why you should hold on to anyone who genuinely rejoices in your success.
The Duke grumbled for another twenty minutes about those opposed to him offering me his daughter.
“But that aside, what exactly did you do in the western Ifriqiya continent with Nador?”
“Oh, I just sold gunpowder and matchlock rifles to both sides,” I replied casually.
All I did was help the Botswana tribes form a unified front to defend themselves, in line with the teachings of Mencius on the importance of balance. Of course, I balanced things by selling an equally large stock of firearms to Nador as well.
“I’m relieved you’re a noble of the Toscana Empire and my son-in-law. The thought of you coming from Granada or the Kingdom of Lyon is terrifying.” He shivered slightly.
“There must be something specific you heard about?” I asked innocently.
“Don’t play coy. You set things up so that the Granada Kingdom and the Sultanate would have no choice but to clash, didn’t you? No need to hide it from me—go on, admit it.”
I’d reported the gunpowder dealings to the Duke, but I’d kept the civil war incitement to myself.
Even if he is my father-in-law, telling him that a mere baron has been stirring up civil wars might be...
But since it aligned with the empire’s and the Duke’s interests, I could probably be honest without repercussions.
“If the Sultanate learns we’re selling gunpowder to Ifriqiya, wouldn’t that lead to a full-scale war?”
“Indeed. Both sides have avoided mobilizing armies because there’s no immediate benefit, but if we strike first, they’d have no choice but to retaliate.”
It’s like organized crime: even yakuza or mafia groups avoid targeting civilians. It’s unprofitable and draws too much attention. Although there’s no neutral authority to mediate between the Sultanate and our empire, neither side benefits from an all-out war.
“However, if we push the Granada Kingdom and Nador to fight each other, we’ll weaken two potential enemies and can profit from selling gunpowder.”
Thanks to some new techniques I’d introduced, our empire’s gunpowder production was expected to increase sevenfold. While even double the previous stock would suffice to address the military’s needs, the surplus could be sold off for profit.
There’s nothing quite like watching a fire across the river—especially when you profit from it.
“Plus, keeping Granada and Nador tied up in Ifriqiya prevents them from expanding into territories where we might establish our own client states.”
The Duke’s eyes widened at my reply.
“Colonel Ducat, an old comrade of mine from our days in the same division, mentioned that you should be placed in the general staff headquarters,” he chuckled.
I only borrowed a few strategic insights from an old, deeply suspicious nation, but here in Albania, it’s regarded as a marvel that would leave even Zhuge Liang awestruck.
“Then again, you’d be a disaster if you ever became chief of staff—Albania would be left in a bloody mess.”
Thinking about it, I did have a few cards I could play to set the continent ablaze if I wanted to. The most potent one would probably be indulgences.
“You seem to have a few ideas brewing, but I won’t ask. Speaking of which, have you heard the latest?”
“Which news would that be?”
“I heard the Olbia family is suddenly departing Florence. Apparently, they’re fleeing after a major scandal.”
That was all my doing, of course, though I’d be keeping that from both the Emperor and the Duke. Announcing it would only draw unwanted attention.
“Is that so? Even though they oppose our faction, it’s still rather strange.”
The Duke chuckled at my response. “Right? Even my father found it puzzling, though he was pleased.”
“An odd turn of events.”
“Who do you think might be behind it?”
I was, naturally. And I’d made sure to scatter plenty of false leads.
“Baron Olbia’s extravagance probably served as the perfect bait for an enterprising High Court investigator, and Al Dante and Chief Judge Mancini deserve credit for figuring it out.”
The Duke looked thoroughly satisfied with my explanation, as though a mystery had finally been solved.
“That makes sense. By the way, are you free tomorrow?”
I’d planned to take Chloe and Kris out for a break, but since it was the Duke, canceling was the right choice.
“Yes, I’m available.”
“Then come by my residence. I’ll have you meet Erika.”
... Someone, please save me.