As soon as the Visconti family’s right to trade steel was legalized, I summoned the blacksmith guild’s craftsmen. But instead of the prominent guild members, I called on those who barely made it onto the membership rolls.

Ordinarily, when taking over a guild, it would make sense to start by recruiting the influential figures. But there’s a reason for choosing this unconventional approach.

“I appreciate you all gathering here despite your busy schedules.”

At my words, the craftsmen turned their gazes toward me. Judging by their expressions, it was clear they weren’t pleased.

Given that they belonged to the Sforza faction, a rival to the Visconti family, it’s no wonder they would see me in a poor light. After all, we had infringed on their business interests, so it would be stranger if they didn’t have a grudge.

“I asked you here today to have a productive discussion.”

Of course, they wouldn’t believe that. Who’d believe an envoy from a hostile faction who says he just wants to talk? I wasn’t here for a chat; I was here for a conversation with a sword in hand.

“Who’s the representative here?”

A bearded man stepped forward and answered.

“I run the largest workshop among us. Been a blacksmith for about 18 years.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jacques.”

“Very well, Jacques. From now on, you’ll be the spokesperson for everyone here.”

It’s easier to talk to one representative than to handle a dozen voices, so I designated him to speak on behalf of the others.

“Let’s get to the point. As of yesterday, His Majesty Daniel de Toscana, Emperor of the great Toscana Empire, granted the Duke of Visconti the right to trade steel.”

The news hadn’t reached the lower-ranking craftsmen yet, judging by the way they exchanged anxious glances.

“They took our monopoly? So now we have to compete with that cheap steel from Visconti?”

“Damn, now that they’ve opened up steel trading, they’ll take over everything else, too.”

The guild has existed for as long as it has for a simple reason: they monopolized not just skills and production but also the sale of their goods. But if that monopoly starts to crack? They’ll be shoved out of the competitive market by a more agile economy.

“With the steel trade opened, the monopoly on agricultural tools, armor, and weapon manufacturing will soon follow.”

Jacques looked stunned as he stared at me.

But that wasn’t the only shock coming their way.

“Additionally, a caravan under the protection of Duke Visconti was attacked by bandits. His Grace suspects that the blacksmith guild’s upper echelon orchestrated it.”

We haven’t caught the culprits, but in a world without CCTVs, recordings, or telephones, not catching the culprits is practically a perfect crime.

In the 21st century, a good lawyer could argue a lack of evidence and probably secure a not-guilty verdict. But in this medieval world? If a noble points a finger, that’s all the evidence needed for an execution.

“Do you have proof that we’re responsible?”

Did Jacques take such a shock that he forgot basic survival instincts?

The circumstantial evidence, coupled with the emperor’s decision to legalize steel trading, makes it clear as day. Whether there’s proof or not, they’re destined for the dungeons.

“There’s no concrete proof, but plenty of circumstantial evidence. An investigation will be carried out, starting immediately.”

Here, “investigation” means torturing suspects until they confess.

“Once the investigation concludes and the higher-ups confess, do you think you’ll be left alone?”

The Duke probably won’t go so far as to have the lower-ranking craftsmen executed. But if the guild is obliterated, they’ll be left jobless—and branded with a criminal record for being involved.

“We’re innocent! We’ll confess to anything you ask—just let us live!”

It seems my logical persuasion has finally brought Jacques around.

“Become the Visconti family’s dogs.”

“And that will spare us?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll make sure you not only survive but thrive. In concrete terms, I’ll make sure you inherit the workshops left behind by the upper-ranking guild members and the guild master.”

The craftsmen, though part of a rival faction, are valuable human resources. They’re like highly skilled engineers or scientists back in Korea. Disposing of them would be a waste.

While this doesn’t directly put money in my pocket, it will please the Duke. And eventually, I’ll be rewarded.

“Your choices are death or loyalty to the Duke.”

Jacques exchanged glances with the other craftsmen, who nodded in agreement.

“We’ll serve the Duke.”

“Good. Remember that spirit. Betray him, and you won’t survive.”

I handed each of them two documents: one accusing the guild master of hiring bandits to attack the Duke, and another confessing that they drafted the first document for their own gain.

The second document was unlikely to ever see the light of day, but knowing they’re beholden to the Duke will make them believe he has control over their fates.

“Why are you still here? Report to the barracks.”

In the Toscana Empire, soldiers maintain public order and defend the realm. Thus, the police are essentially soldiers assigned to security roles.

Once I reported back to the Duke’s staff, I received unexpected orders to dress formally and report for duty.

“Is the Emperor planning to reward me with something?”

Today, I’m bewildered. I’m not in any danger, but I’m facing something I hadn’t anticipated.

“The second son of Baron Medici, Fabio de Medici, will step forward to the podium.”

I’m in an utterly absurd situation. I thought I’d receive some praise from the Emperor, dressed formally, and perhaps hear an official decree. But as soon as I arrived, I found myself in a hall filled with barons, viscounts, and even a few counts.

And now, they’re calling me to the podium.

I feel an intense pressure, but it would be disrespectful not to attend a ceremony arranged by the Duke. Disrespect, in this case, is as good as a death sentence.

As I ascended the podium, I noticed the attendants, dressed in ceremonial attire, wielding swords.

“His Eminence, the honorable and courageous Giovanni de Visconti, approaches the podium. Please rise!”

With that, my mind began to clear.

Ah, they’re about to formally make me a noble.

A typical knighthood ceremony could be as simple as issuing a certificate, or conducted en masse with several knights. But...

Once on the podium, the Duke began reciting the customary oath, and I responded with mechanical affirmations.

When he finished, he drew his sword and rested it on my shoulder.

“I, Giovanni de Visconti, solemnly swear before all nobles gathered here and before God that as long as Fabio de Medici remains loyal, I shall never forsake him. In return for his loyalty, I bestow upon him the village of Bio.”

Of a hundred knights, only about 5% hold direct dominion over a village.

I’d just experienced an instant promotion in status. Even being a second son in a baron’s family wouldn’t have achieved this—receiving a fiefdom was on another level.

And judging by the assembled nobility, it’s clear what the Duke intends.

He plans to pit my brother Albert and me against each other, making both of us toil for the Duke’s gain.

Politicians are indeed evil, but this feels excessive.

Then the Duke gave his next command.

“Depart immediately and restore the fief.”

...This is absurd.

The state of the land I was given was worse than I’d imagined.

Perhaps they saw my business acumen and hoped I’d work some miracle to restore the place.

But seriously, handing me a coastal village ravaged by famine and corrupt officials?

“Still, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. A coastal village could mean new opportunities.”