The Duke of Visconti looked at the man before him and smiled.

“Archbishop of Florence, is it true? Are you telling me Fabio really outmaneuvered Christian at the church trial?”

The archbishop nodded in agreement.

“I hurried to stop the unjust trial as soon as I heard it had started. I arrived a little late, and as I approached the courtroom, I could hear the young man passionately defending himself from outside.”

“So, that was Fabio.”

“Yes, as I was told.”

The archbishop relayed every piece of information he had gathered to the duke.

At first, the duke chuckled, thinking it was madness that someone would refuse to beg for their life and instead negotiate confidently.

If such a rational and fearless person were to join him, he could indeed be useful in his ongoing rivalry with the Sforza family.

But as the story went on, the duke’s smile began to fade.

It wasn’t that he was so petty that he would be jealous of a capable subordinate.

It was just that Fabio de Medici’s performance at the trial was so astonishing that it almost seemed unreal.

“So, you’re saying that Fabio not only held his ground but also dominated Christian in the church court?”

The duke let out a disbelieving laugh.

“I don’t think you’re the type to make this up. But it’s hard to believe. Are you sure?”

“I saw it with my own eyes. Fabio had already swayed the audience’s opinion, and the vice-bishop couldn’t find a single flaw in him.”

What Fabio had done appeared to the archbishop and the duke like this:

It was like watching a knight, rigorously trained since childhood, don full armor and mount a horse for battle, only to face off against a ten-year-old boy wielding a twig—and yet the boy won.

Under normal circumstances, the child would lose a million times out of a million.

But here Fabio had faced an impossible fight and won without even attempting to run.

“When I was his age, all I thought about was how to sneak a peek under a maid’s skirt. Yet this kid is writing legends at twenty. My own sons seem pathetic by comparison.”

The duke slumped his shoulders.

Fabio’s success was beneficial to the duke’s family as a whole, but it made his own sons look inadequate.

As a father, it hurt a little.

The archbishop, noticing the shift in mood, made a clumsy joke.

“Talking about your wild days in front of a clergyman? For the sin of lust, you should go to confession.”

Normally, the duke would respond with something like:

“Doesn’t confession come with a hefty donation? Give me a discount.”

But he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“Not today. Are the rumors spreading well?”

“Of course. I’ve arranged for sermons on the event, slightly dramatized, to be delivered not just at Florence Cathedral but across Tuscany.”

The Church of Deus operates like a military, with an organized administrative system.

This structure allows them to send specific sermon topics and themes to priests in other cities and towns.

“Since the Duke of Sforza didn’t directly interfere, we can’t name him in the sermons. But everyone except the peasants and serfs will know who suffered the most from this incident.”

Influential nobles, especially those with deep ties to the capital, are keenly aware of political affairs.

They know that backing the wrong side can cost them both power and fortune.

So, when these stories spread, they will naturally come to understand the deeper context.

“Fabio is about to be treated as a hero across the empire, at least for a little while.”

“Indeed.”

“The taverns in Florence must be booming. People now have Fabio to gossip about and corrupt clergymen to curse at.”

“As I was passing by, I saw some of the spectators spreading the word already. They’re saying Deus worked through Fabio to punish Christian’s wrongdoing.”

The archbishop was pleased at the thought of using public opinion to his advantage.

If the idea that Christian acted unjustly took root, it would imply that those above him failed to stop his evil deeds.

And if people started saying Deus himself worked through Fabio to pass judgment on Christian’s sins?

It would give the archbishop grounds to push all those corrupt higher-ups aside.

‘If we can insert our people into the bishop positions…’

Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before he himself was promoted to cardinal.

“You’ll soon be a cardinal. I won’t be able to speak so casually to you then. Maybe I should start showing you more respect now.”

“How could I ever forget the duke’s generosity?”

“I’m glad to hear it. When you’re a cardinal, I’ll make sure to look after your poor nephews.”

Those unfortunate “nephews”—they were, of course, the archbishop’s own children, born out of wedlock.

“I am forever in your debt.”

“Now, let’s spread the word quickly and make Fabio a hero. This will serve both our rise to power and our interests against the Sforza family.”

And so, Fabio’s name spread like wildfire across Tuscany.

The day after the trial, the duke summoned me.

Maybe I’d exceeded his expectations?

Once again, the royal tea was served, and this time, the chair he provided was even more luxurious than before.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations. I’m envious of your father.”

“Your compliments are too kind, Your Grace.”

Excessive humility can sound like mockery.

And in any era or country, if you act overly modest, people will freely undervalue you.

So, it’s best to accept praise with dignity when it’s due.

“No, really, I pity your father. He has to choose your elder brother as heir, despite having such a brilliant son.”

It sounded like a compliment on the surface.

But for a man of the duke’s status to criticize his vassal in front of me, there must be a reason.

‘He’s hinting that he could make me the Medici baron one day.’

Even if that statement got out, it wouldn’t cause political damage to the duke.

Given my consistent accomplishments, anyone could see I’m more capable than my baron brother.

But from my perspective, it was a troubling suggestion.

“Please don’t say such things, even in jest. The Medici family’s line of succession is sacred.”

The duke gave me a bittersweet smile.

“Of course, you won’t take the bait. Ten out of ten second sons from Sforza vassal families would start fretting or take the offer outright.”

If I showed any hesitation or took the offer, the duke would let that information slip to the hostile vassal families.

Then those families would purge any second sons who dared think of a coup.

They’d split, fall into chaos, or, in the worst case, implode and lose their lands.

It wasn’t that the duke intended to destroy me.

Such an act would mean no steel mill capable of mass production, and treating his allies that way would leave him with none.

So, given all the circumstances, his words were likely genuine.

Stirring up division to ruin a vassal family would be self-destructive, but having a justified reason to replace the head of a vassal family was doable.

“I have no intention of harming you or the Medici family.”

I may not trust him personally, but I trust his survival instincts.

So, he should rest assured.

“My original plan was to get you out of the church trial and fund the steel mill, but that seems insufficient now.”

The duke handed me a certificate.

“When our conversation ends, give this to the head butler, and he’ll exchange it for five hundred gold coins. Consider it a personal gift, separate from the investment funds.”

Five hundred gold coins—a small fortune, roughly equivalent to twenty million won.

A hefty reward just for ousting a bishop. Clearly, he wants to control me with money.

Does he think I’m someone who can be bought?

Unfortunately for him, I’m risking my life and putting on this entire show to earn money.

Money will let me enjoy the life of a noble, luxuries, and beautiful women in this reincarnated world.

In that sense, the duke is the perfect employer, laying down gold without hesitation.

Damn, I might end up liking him.

“Thank you.”

“I have high expectations. Succeed, and the rewards will be substantial. And remember…”

“What should I remember?”

The duke gestured for me to lean in closer.

Once I was near enough, he whispered so only I could hear.

“I consider you more valuable than Albert. Being born first shouldn’t be a privilege.”

He’s certainly a generous employer, but this man is terrifying.

If I dethrone Albert and take the Medici barony by force, I’d end up as a baron in title but a slave at the duke’s beck and call.

Is he trying to make me his slave, bound to his family’s glory?

Unbelievable.