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The Medici family was silently balancing the power between multiple city-states, Sforza was busy with usurping power and holding his late brother’s young son hostage in Milan, Botticelli was lost in pagan myths and visions of hell, still crying over an old love.
But Da Vinci? He sat at the table, happily showing her props like angel wings that could flap.
"Look! They can even move from side to side!" he exclaimed.
He had gathered feathers from white geese and ducks and crafted a half-iron frame to support the wings, preparing them for use as stage props for actors.
The two wings were graceful and grand, the lines smooth and the feathers snow-white, a remarkably high level of craftsmanship.
Hedy stood by, watching him explain how to twist the mechanism to make the wings open and close, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
If he were alive in the modern world, she thought, he’d probably sleep in a Broadway theater and never leave.
Da Vinci had a natural passion and dedication for the theater and stage.
He could create all sorts of tracks and pulley systems to help actors perform miracles on stage that looked indistinguishable from reality. When he wasn’t painting or had a new idea, he would rush to the theater to help with the set design, personally adding flowers and trees to the background, even grabbing a hammer to fix broken chairs.
He loved music, poetry, and sometimes even joined the actors, playing seemingly insignificant roles.
Hedy had imagined, when learning about all of this, what it would be like to bring him to the modern world—such an avant-garde and inspired person would surely thrive in any industry.
She had also helped out at theaters, slowly starting to recognize the budding talents and ideas around her.
The Middle Ages were considered the dark ages of God's dominion. Whether it was literature or painting, human will was subordinated to God, and all of life and creation were to be offered to Him.
As a result, almost all oil paintings centered around the Bible—scenes like the Adoration of the Magi or the Annunciation were depicted over and over again, and the theater often performed tired, old plays. People revered the Pope and the Church, manipulated by the Bible and various threats, passively praying for happiness after death.
Yet, even in this environment, individuals like Botticelli and Da Vinci began to emerge, becoming more numerous over time.
Botticelli boldly painted pagan myths, channeling his emotions through the beauty of Venus.
Da Vinci, on the other hand, ignored the threats of the devout, spending months in cadaver rooms without concern.
On her way back from the Doge’s Palace, Hedy suddenly realized something about the lord.
He, too, was a leader of the Renaissance, in his own way.
Whether it was indulging Botticelli or employing someone like her, his pragmatic pursuit of profit was, ironically, helping the world become a better place.
After learning this secret, Hedy needed time to adjust her words and expressions.
Her plan remained unchanged: to continue gaining his trust and, using economics as a point of entry, further drive military development.
At this moment, it was already evening. The lord was drinking wine and reading letters, while the faint sounds of nightingales and starlings could be heard outside the window.
Hedy carefully chose her words as she "recounted" the relevant rumors, making careful additions and deletions to the details while skillfully emphasizing certain points.
"...That’s why merchants are questioning the bank’s operational capabilities," Hedy paused, giving her final hint. "If you could further improve the entire industrial chain, perhaps other sectors would run much more smoothly."
For some reason, Hedy felt that Lord Medici wasn’t quite himself today; he seemed a bit distracted, almost lost in thought.
After she finished her report, she waited for a while, but there was no response.
"Lord?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"You... can leave for now," came his voice, muffled and strained, with a faint rasping sound that seemed to carry an undertone of pain.
He was injured?!
