The elderly man before me grinned at me.
"Well, a promising young man like yourself has asked for the help of an old man like me. I’ve taken time out of my very busy schedule just for you."
No, you retired last year, and now all you do is sit in a rocking chair at home, sipping tea. I know that, which is exactly why I invited you here.
As expected, courtiers—especially those who’ve worked in the imperial palace—are known for their pretentiousness, and this man was no exception. The rumors couldn’t have been more accurate.
‘The higher one serves, the more they indulge in pretense.’
Right now, I need his help, so I have to play along. Besides, this man holds a distinguished position.
“Please forgive my rudeness in asking for your time so urgently, Head Steward.”
A nobleman by title, specifically Baron de Conte, and the former Head Steward of the palace—equivalent to a high-ranking official. He’s not quite like the eunuchs who wielded absolute power in the late Han Dynasty, but he’s still a significant figure.
‘Still, a former head steward is like a former deputy minister in our empire.’
He nodded, as if he understood my situation well.
“I understand, preparing for the wedding with Lady Erica must be no small feat.”
Had it been under normal circumstances, I’d be frantically busy with wedding preparations, even if it didn’t quite break my back. A single misstep in the etiquette of a marriage to a family of higher status could lead to severe political repercussions.
‘Albert nearly emptied the family treasury when he married the Countess of Farnese’s daughter.’
But the Duke had assured me that his family would handle all the arrangements, asking only that I show up when called and follow their lead. Otherwise, I’d have entrusted business matters to Kris and Sebastian and devoted myself entirely to wedding preparations.
“But don’t worry. Who am I? I’m Matteo de Conte, His Majesty’s third head steward. Who knows etiquette better than I?”
Nobles spend their lives studying etiquette and incorporating it into their daily routines. But etiquette can be subjective—it’s often flexible and open to interpretation. For major events like weddings, successions, and funerals, they often invite “etiquette experts” as advisors.
‘This also happens to be a significant income stream for ceremonial nobles.’
Not that it mattered for me at this point.
“The reason I called you here, Head Steward, isn’t actually for that.”
Baron de Conte frowned, looking puzzled. He was probably wondering what could be more important than a wedding with a duke’s daughter.
“I want to create a restaurant where commoners can experience the food and atmosphere of noble banquets.”
He furrowed his brows, tapping his knee with his fingers. He’d assumed I’d invited him to request help with the grand affair of a wedding, only to find out it was a frivolous scheme to let lowly commoners taste noble food.
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But, unwilling to risk offending the Rothschild barony, he seemed to be considering how he might refuse without severing ties.
‘Insisting on this now would be foolish.’
“I seek your expertise on minimal etiquette that commoners can understand, appropriate furniture arrangements, food selection, music, and everything needed to recreate the experience.”
The Baron responded with genuine admiration, though his words were more layered.
“Baron Rothschild, I’ve heard you’re one of the few people with a truly open mind, and now I understand why. To offer commoners a taste of the elegance of noble life—certainly a novel idea.”
“Thank you, Head Steward.”
I expressed gratitude, though I wasn’t oblivious to his hidden message. The formal tone he adopted was as close as he could get to polite disdain.
Translated, it meant something like this:
“You’re the kind of man who rose to baron within three years without grasping the basics of noble culture, so of course, only someone as vulgar as you would even consider such a crude idea. Good heavens, no wonder the clergy constantly lament the decadence of our times. And what if these lowly commoners start looking down on us?!”
It was grating to hear, but understandable.
‘After all, such a reaction is only natural.’
It’s like how, in Japan, they try to revive the kimono by adapting it into more risqué styles, while in Korea, the slightest hint of sensuality in hanbok is met with fierce opposition. And in front of me stood a person who embodied the spirit of etiquette itself. To him, defiling tradition was akin to robbing him of his livelihood.
“I’m afraid my old, rigid mind can’t keep up with such forward-thinking ideas. Perhaps you should look for someone else.”
If he truly lacked the skills for the task, he’d have immediately offered an alternative. But he didn’t, which was his way of saying he had no intention of helping me.
‘I know exactly how to deal with people like this.’
“Five hundred gold coins as a consultation fee.”
The Baron, who had been about to stand up, flinched at my words and froze.
He looked at me with a distasteful expression.
“Baron Rothschild, while I may have served as the head steward, I’m old and set in my ways. And now you’re trying to buy me with money?”
There’s an old saying: the opposite of kindness isn’t hostility; it’s indifference. If he harbors any feelings toward me, I can potentially turn them in my favor. The first step was already a success.
“Seven hundred gold coins, paid in a lump sum.”
Seven hundred gold coins could buy a sizable mansion in Florence, fully furnished—a massive sum, equivalent to a year’s net income for a minor barony. And for ceremonial nobles who always lack funds, especially those retired, this was an offer he couldn’t easily refuse.
I could afford to spend thousands of gold coins without affecting my finances, but that didn’t mean seven hundred wasn’t a fortune. Still, the knowledge and prestige gained from his consultation would be worth several times that amount.
‘If we expand the restaurant to other cities besides Florence, I’d recoup this in no time.’
Initially, I’d operate it as a restaurant, but later, I could add catering services for exclusive banquets and even offer full buyout options.
Conte’s brow twitched slightly.
“You’re trying to buy me with money?”
If he truly hated money, he could simply storm out. But his body told the truth: not even thirty seconds had passed since he’d started to leave, yet now he was sitting down again, knees instinctively bending.
It’s a universal truth: if things aren’t going well, you might just need more cash.
“Fine. I’ll even cover all the costs for your grandson’s wedding. Just send the invoice my way.”
Ceremonial barons, unlike landed barons, often held simple ceremonies—simply because they couldn’t afford otherwise. Even so, a family heir’s wedding could easily cost a thousand gold coins.
Hearing this, Conte grew pensive, clearly torn between pride and financial gain. I chose not to rush him and let him take his time to deliberate.
“...Are you serious?”
His tone had changed, a sure sign he was leaning in my favor.
“You know our family’s wealth is well-known.”
If we include the unofficial earnings, we’re practically in the league of high-ranking merchants. Of course, some parts are understated, which affects our valuation.
“In fact, I have four grandsons, and they could use some direction in life...”
Securing jobs for his grandsons would only strengthen our alliance.
“The Medici Trading Company will soon have open positions. If they apply, I’ll ensure they’re placed appropriately.”
Of course, they wouldn’t be given responsibilities right away—they’d go through rigorous training for a few years before taking on real roles.
“And as for payment... isn’t it customary to pay once the deal is finalized?”
Conte grabbed my hand tightly.
“You think a man who served as the third head steward can’t handle something this simple? I’ll ensure everything is flawless, so no other nobles can even think of criticizing the etiquette.”
See? Money makes everything possible.
And soon enough, I opened “Rothschild Restaurant” in Florence.