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"If you build it into an empire, with stronger legions and larger territories, only then can these treasures and wealth survive for the long term."
Without strong weapons and an army, this small city, isolated from the rest, would always be seen as a rich, tender prize by neighboring nations and states.
When real war came, this city would be as insignificant as a butterfly.
Lorenzo had intended to ask her to take care of Clarice and the children in his absence, but he hadn't expected to hear such bold, even audacious, words.
He took a deep breath, his voice remaining calm and low.
"You don’t think I would be offended by your words."
"The Pope, the Bible, Heaven—you don’t care about any of these, do you?" Hedy responded without hesitation. "You’re just pretending to be humble."
But sometimes, when people wear a mask for too long, they begin to believe the lie themselves.
Lorenzo suddenly wondered if she was truly sent by God—if there was a God.
"I understand your point," he said briefly. "But the war isn’t over yet. These matters need to be thought through carefully. This afternoon, I will take part of my people and head south."
"Please bring Da Vinci with you," she instinctively suggested. "He can help you solve many difficult problems."
"Leonardo da Vinci?" Lorenzo stared into her eyes. "Do you think we need a painter to record great moments right now?"
"No, he’s an excellent engineer with extensive studies in military matters," Hedy thought to herself that she was probably dancing on the lion’s tail today, but still mustered the courage to say, "Please trust me one more time."
The lord fell silent for a few seconds before agreeing to her request.
He may have been too tired lately to rest properly, allowing a young girl to have such influence over him.
Hedy chose to stay in Florence.
She even started praying in the mornings, and whenever she heard a noise from afar, she would feel a sudden panic.
If she had misjudged the time or if some unknown historical event had occurred, it was possible that when she woke up, the Turkish army would have already breached the city walls, charging through the palace, wreaking havoc at will.
She hoped there would be no such changes and wished for their safe return.
During the Second World War, at least there were newspapers and radio broadcasts to update on the situation, with war correspondents reporting casualties and news in real time.
But in this era, receiving a letter from Da Vinci seemed almost impossible.
She would wander around the shops in the streets, even lingering in front of a stall selling apples, turning them over and inspecting them for a long time.
Still, there was no news.
The people in the city, like comfortable pigs and sheep, showed little interest in the war to the south.
The poets and artists continued their drinking and revelry, and the bathhouses were still in disarray.
Sensing her anxiety, Botticelli brought her a bottle of new wine.
"Prayer is enough; leave the rest to them," the young painter said, pouring her a glass of wine, his tone calm. "If you rush to Brindisi now, all you’ll do is cause them more trouble."
That was indeed true.
Without firearms or armor, as a woman, in times like these, all she could do was passively wait.
Hedy rubbed her forehead, took a sip of the wine, and suddenly froze in place.
