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Luris was taken aback by the speed and ferocity with which Niccolò devoured his food, signaling for the servants to bring him two more platters of meat.
Niccolò didn’t refuse, eagerly devouring the beef leg clean, and even tossing the olives and green beans, which were meant as garnish, into his mouth.
Once he had finished, let out a long burp, and only then did Hedy speak at a leisurely pace.
"Tell me your thoughts on the world."
The young man wiped his mouth, looking her straight in the eye without any fear of the authority in the room. He exuded an air of detachment that seemed far beyond his years, as though he had already seen through it all.
"I don’t believe in the Bible," Machiavelli said in a low voice. "Nor do I believe in God."
Everyone in the room had a distinctly different reaction.
Luris wore a knowing and appreciative smile, a few of the servants looked uneasy, but Hedy’s expression remained unchanged.
"Go on."
"I believe, given the current situation, you should establish a strong monarchy and rule over the entire Holy Roman Empire." The boy’s black eyes glinted coldly, like a sharp dagger. "But the fragmented Holy Roman Empire should have changed its name long ago."
Yes, the name it would later hold was Italy.
Hedy took a deep breath, confirming her suspicions were continually being validated.
She used to think that if she bumped into someone in the street, they were probably an artist or a writer from Florence.
Now, even when she ventured with the army to the North, figures from legend seemed to be rushing to meet her.
... Perhaps this was what people meant by fate.
"Why did you come to her?" Luris, who wasn’t fully trusting of this person, asked in return. "How can you prove you're not a spy sent by someone else?"
The young man couldn’t help but burp again — he had indeed eaten quite a lot.
"You’re planning to attack Genoa, right?" he asked.
Hedy didn’t answer him immediately.
Machiavelli glanced at her, then continued speaking on his own, "I can predict this — within a month, a peace offering from the French will be sent to you."
"And then?"
"But you cannot accept it," he emphasized. "This peace offer is a test. The French want to know your ambitions and strength."
Hedy raised a faint smile. "How did you guess all this? If it’s just hearsay, we won’t offer you any work."
"I heard the reports in Florence," Machiavelli scratched his head. "At first, it was about the naval battle between Pisa and Lucca, then rumors about the Devil’s cannon started spreading."
"When I reached Lucca, you had already left three days prior. Clearly, you planned to use the French army's southward movement to seize a more favorable position—Genoa."
He spoke quickly, even struggling to catch his breath, "And I’ve heard much about your exploits."
He was from Florence, so even without leaving home, he had heard countless rumors about her.
It was said that this lady was a distant relative of the Medici family, who not only developed many drugs but also assisted her lord in capturing several cities and ports from the Roman Church during their war, before retiring just as the spotlight was at its brightest.
Meanwhile, Milan's commercial trade had suddenly flourished, and even Florence was able to buy exquisite purple oil paints that stopped people in their tracks.
He had grown increasingly eager to understand everything related to her.
