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Hedy had never imagined she would make such practical attempts in so many areas.
In her past life, she had been nearly identical to Leonardo da Vinci in history. Despite all her intelligence, she was constantly interfered with and obstructed.
And due to her status as a woman and the limitations of that era, she couldn't even choose another profession at that time.
Suggestions to improve airplanes, participate in torpedo communication designs—there were so many biases and prejudices that it was hard to breathe under them.
But in this era, Hedy could try almost anything.
The order and laws were continually crumbling, and she could even become a creator of those very rules.
The Medici family identity, Leonardo's and the mercenary group's support, along with the modern concepts of law and all her memories related to history, were like divine aids.
She could analyze Napoleon's and Martin Luther's conquests and reforms, making wise choices based on future historical contexts at this time.
Just as Leonardo had said:
“Hedy, you’re doing great.”
They were quietly discussing matters related to commercial laws when Dechio knocked on the door again.
“My lady,” she said with a light smile, “your old friends have arrived.”
Hedy turned around and heard several pairs of footsteps approaching.
“Hedy—” Atalante quickly strode forward, his thick beard brushing against her neck, making her itch slightly.
Hedy joyfully hugged him, and when she looked up, she saw Michelangelo standing in the doorway.
The young man clearly hadn't expected her to become the new lord, and he seemed hesitant to come forward, casting a pleading glance toward Leonardo instead.
“You’ve actually kept a full beard!” Hedy said, releasing Atalante. “What’s going on in Milan? Who’s helping manage the business after you left?”
“You won’t believe who I got to be the new agent—” Atalante said mysteriously. “Alejo!”
“How did you meet him?!” Hedy couldn’t help but laugh. “He is quite the successful scoundrel.”
“Mr. Medici sent his men to hire him,” Atalante waved his hand. “I’ve got a few trusted guys helping to look after things. I’ll just visit twice a year to check the books, and everything will be fine.”
“I think,” he turned his head to look at the brand-new city and the Immortal Bird flag hanging by the window, grinning, “you definitely need a sharp old friend to help take care of things here.”
“True…” Hedy let out a long sigh of relief, took a sip of wine, and asked, “Who sent for you?”
“That was me,” Machiavelli, who had been sitting in the corner flipping through books, waved his hand. “No need to thank me.”
Hedy raised an eyebrow, smiling with a resigned expression.
“Actually, I asked these two gentlemen to come for the same reason.” The consultant sat up straighter, his eyes shifting toward the man standing beside Hedy. “Mr. Da Vinci, you and Mr. Zino should be leaving here soon.”
“Before other countries send their representatives, taking the nearby small duchies will be as easy as taking something from a bag.”
Hedy's first instinct was to look at the map spread out on the table.
Machiavelli's assessment was spot on; there were still many small city-states in the surrounding areas.
Between Genoa and Milan lay a natural barrier—the long and undulating Ligurian Apennines. Their army could easily capture cities like Ferrara, the Duchy of Asti, and the various small port cities along the western coastline.
If they hesitated too long, Milan and France might intervene, but acting swiftly was always worthwhile.
