It was a most festive day, so of course her manor had no cheer. Most of the maids had gone home until the new year, leaving behind such few to light morning fires and cook modest meals, and even her butler had this day to be with his family.


    However, not all of her confidantes had such places to be.


    While her newest maid served tea and liquor, the mayor admired the artworks on display, hands behind his back, and Julia sat by the fire.


    “Is this—”


    “My father was not a man who would have a forgery on display. If a piece is genuine enough to have fooled even him, I dare say no one else could tell,” she said, finishing with a sip of her tea.


    He stared at the painting which was supposedly hanging in a manor back in Italy the last he had heard of it. “Understood,” he muttered.


    She tittered, raising the cup to hide her mouth, then took another sip before putting down the drink. “Mr Mayor may admire to his heart’s content; however, if that is all he wishes to do, I would rather waste the day at my desk.”


    He chuckled, the sound carrying through the room, and his gaze settled on the piano next. “Does My Lady play?”


    What interested him hardly unclear, she loosely waved him off. “My mother’s.”


    He nodded, then walked over to the fireplace. There, he took a seat, followed by a sip of the prepared drink. His eyes widened, holding the glass higher to look at the colour through the light. “My Lady need not spoil me with anything so fancy.”


    “I assure you, my father would be upset with me for serving this to a guest,” she said, her light tone making it clear that was not an endorsement of the drink’s quality.


    He chuckled again, then had another sip. “Really?”


    “In a way, one cannot blame the nobility for thinking themselves so much better, how we live and how you live—it naturally feels like we have God’s favour and you have inherited such sins.”


    He took no offence, finding more reason to laugh. “When my time comes, I eagerly await being read what sins my father committed,” he said.


    “To see if you have outdone him?”


    Again, he laughed. “My Lady knows me too well. It is my honour,” he said, holding up his glass in a toast.


    She did not see fit to knock his glass, her own cup something she would rather not chip. However, she did not leave him be, saying, “It is indeed your honour to be someone worth knowing.”


    Another laugh, another sip, and the humour faded away to a polite expression amongst the crackling fire. “Miss Gianna has settled in well?” he asked, glancing at the maid.


    “You may speak freely of anything. She is my person,” Julia said.


    “Well, then, let us bring the topic to working matters.”


    She stared at the steam rising from her cup for a moment, thoughts falling into order. “How is the development coming along?”


    “It is within expectations,” he said, pausing for a sip. “Mr Hase’s involvement has certainly helped the matter proceed smoothly. However….”


    The silence dragging, she clicked her tongue. “Am I an audience to entertain? Speak,” she said.


    He offered an apologetic smile to his glass. “I am wary of giving the ex-mayor… power.”


    “That is, when it came to the guilds, I gave you certain advice to contrast with how Mr Hase managed them, and I could give you that advice because he is still loyal to me.”


    She had a sip, enjoying the tea for a second.


    “Right now, they trust your title precisely because he was good to them, and they trust him because he was good to them. Both are to our benefit. As long as the money is there, they will play along. When they are ready to stop playing, it will be too late. I trust Mr Hase to bring talent to the new guilds who will be loyal to us and, with that foundation of knowledge, we may expand as we so wish. Let them riot. They have lived well for so long, I do not think they know how to struggle. That, when I come for one, the others will turn their backs, thinking it nothing to do with them, until there is no one left but them—and who shall they turn to then?”


    Having rather said a lot, she turned to him with an ironic smile.


    “Is Mr Mayor satisfied?”


    Finishing his drink, he held it over for her maid to collect; without a word, Gianna took it and filled it again. “It is reassuring to hear that you think he is loyal.”


    “My father was a man who could instil loyalty beyond his grave,” she said, speaking softer. “If I cannot trust in him, I shall accomplish nothing in this world.”


    “That is fair—I did not mean to imply otherwise,” he said, accepting the drink.


    She put down her cup; without a word, her maid took it. “The guilds will be fine. With the war between Bohemia and Bavaria continuing in the spring, there is ample opportunity to train smiths on weapons and armour. All I require is giving the Nelli family a reason to bring in good metals.”


    “Ah, from my time with them, I could only dream of such opportunities. It would be an easy life if such opportunities could be made at will,” he said with an air of whimsy.


    She laughed. “Who exactly do you think I learned such a thing from?” she asked, then sighed. “If not for the Nelli family, I dare say the Italians would show a modicum of unity by this time.”


    Although he chuckled, in his mind, he hesitated, knowing she had indeed helped Marquess Bavaria with his ruse.


    “Regardless, I would develop this industry for the future. That we can do so without incurring a loss is our boon,” she said.


    He didn’t press the matter of the war, but he did smile. “My Lady still seeks to build an army?”


    She let out a heavy sigh, this area still one that frustrated her. “I am capable of the basics, such that I shall know when to surrender and when to fight, yet that is…. If I had a great leader, I need only give the peasants weapons and he would bring victory. However, one cannot plan for such a miracle, so I can only build an army with care, that even a general of modest talents could lead them to unexpected victories.”


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    “Pray tell, why does My Lady sound so disheartened saying so?”


    Waving him off, she let a smile touch her lips once more, then took the offered tea from her maid. “It is a different view for a ruler than a merchant. That is, training soldiers means there are less peasants in the city, so the wages would naturally go up. At the same time, less workers means the price of goods goes up. Thus, the soldiers expect better pay and keeping them fed and clothed costs more. All the while, this is costing money that is not going to longer-term investments or covered by greater taxes, stunting the fief’s growth.”


    He nodded along, sipping at his drink.


    “That is the theory. How it all plays out, that is more intricate. At the end of the day, though, things are being made and things are being consumed.” Pausing there, she turned to him. “Putting that aside, thinking on the previous matter, you are awfully concerned with who I would trust, not considering why it is I would trust you.”


    “Of course, it is because I am most trustworthy,” he said without a hint of shame.


    She gave a single sarcastic laugh, then took a moment to drink before answering her own question. “I know Mr Mayor seeks interesting things. The Nelli family did not think too highly of you either—otherwise they would not give you away so easily, nor have they married you to one of their daughters.”


    “You wound me, My Lady.”


    Her apologetic smile held little sincerity. “Their mistake, my gain. I have such things to interest you and, even if you do still have loyalty to the Nelli family, have I not been good to them? What could you possibly warn them of?”


    He went to empty his glass, only to stop at the last moment, handing it to her maid. “My Lady plays such games well.”


    She did not smile at the compliment, her expression melting into one of reminiscence. “These things, my mother left me some advice, passed on by my father. Of all that she had taught me, one thing remains clear in my head at all times.”


    Shifting in his seat, he asked, “Which is?”


    “That evil always prospers. The men who commit the most heinous crimes sleep well at night, live long and fulfilling lives with their ill-gotten gains and generous comforts, surrounded by their beloved family. So we tell ourselves that God will judge them, yet are we not afraid that He will judge us too? You see, Christ told us to turn the other cheek while also feeding the poor and healing the sick. There can be no contradiction in His teachings, so it must be that there is evil in this world that we may do good,” she said.


    “I did not think My Lady so… pious. Are we to begin offering alms?” he asked, neither sarcastic nor serious, almost indifferent.


    Sparing him a glance, she gave an almost mocking smile. “I know well the feelings of those who grew up in the Church’s embrace. Matters of religion and rulership, it is best they do not mix. We need only look to the Vatican to see so. To give the Church power is to invite in those with a desire for power, that it is for the best kept a place of the meek, for the meek.”


    “My Lady certainly speaks plainly,” he said, some warmth back in his tone.


    “No need to flatter me,” she said and took another sip of tea before continuing. “Alms, this matter is not simple. Good and evil is beyond me. I am Caesar, to be given what I am due. However, we desire workers, not only to replace those entering the army, but to grow our industries. Which person would then come to a place of poverty where they must rely on charity?”


    His gaze followed the fire’s flames, no answer forthcoming.


    “It is wrong to think people are all and always rational. If given the choice between a place where alms are handed out or a place where none are, would they consider the context?” she asked, rhetorical. After a long sigh, she shook her head. “That said, it is the case that, if we wish for those who grow up here to become hardy people, the children must be fed. If we wish for educated people, it is best to educate them ourselves, that they know what we need them to know—and to not know what we need them not to know.”


    His eyes showed his surprise. “Truly, you wish to teach the peasants such skills?”


    “This is something best left to the Church,” she said, then took a moment to put together her thoughts on the matter. “The people will never appreciate you. Either they will think it is a waste of their taxes or they will consider it natural for their taxes to be spent on such a thing, regardless of what the issue is. However, they will be happy to receive such things from the Church because charity is what the Church is for.


    “It is a strange issue. My mother is still beloved for her charitable endeavours, never mind whose money paid for such things. Truly, such things are ideal, that I would convince the rich to pay for the impoverished without using such a harsh word as ‘tax’. We do such things in the Church’s name, giving them only what they need, that we do not open them to corruption. As long as they teach the masses to be obedient, what harm is there? If any priests grow beyond their station, well, there are options at our disposal.”


    His fingers drummed on the chair’s armrest. “That is, you have spoken of something similar before? The ideals and goals of taxation,” he said, ending in a murmur.


    “Taxation, charity—what matters is the flow of money and that flow has become a power of its own. These lords, they have long grown fat off of idleness. There is no sense of competition between them. At best, they know of war and, in this area, we often see how unsuitable those who rule are for their position.”


    She paused there, letting out a long sigh.


    “One need only compare Augstadt from before and after my father’s rule. Look at what he accomplished, and it was only the beginnings of his ambition. I would like to call my parents unrivalled geniuses; however, in truth, I am sure they are far from the only ones capable of such thoughts. Why is it, then, that elsewhere is so stagnant, knowing only how to grow through bloodshed?”


    He tensed in his seat, not daring to sit forward at such a time. “I wonder?”


    She laughed, a sweet laugh neither he nor her maid had heard before. “Mr Mayor, you would have loved my father,” she said, a warm smile lingering on her lips. “This conversation can be considered your Christmas gift; though, I would hope you do not feel put upon to be receiving philosophy from someone so young.”


    “It is the youth who always have the most interesting philosophy,” he replied. “Once we reach a certain age, we begin to justify the world as it is rather than see it clearly—if only to comfort ourselves for being unable to change it. So we sound cynical and jaded, always complaining of the youth that we once were.”


    “Then pray do allow me one last monologue,” she said.


    He gestured for her to continue.


    She swirled the bit of tea in the cup before handing it to her maid, waiting for the cup to come back steaming. “I may die this year. From the moment of my father’s death, I knew the world unfair. So, if I do not make it to next Christmas, I would give you a single advice and a single request.”


    “Anything, My Lady,” he said, a quietness to his voice.


    She turned to him with a bittersweet smile. “Go far away, and take Gianna with you. My other confidantes have their own situations to worry over, so I would leave this task to you—for it is also you who saved her by bringing the matter to my attention. I have every confidence she could handle herself alone, but I think she has persevered through enough already, as have you. So take what you need and run, that your last days be full of the joys thus far denied.”


    “My Lady…” he whispered.


    She gave him a last smile, then turned to her maid, looking Gianna in the eye. “Consider that an order. There is no honour in avenging me, no matter how unjust my death. Rather, the more unjust it is, the less necessary any revenge shall be. God may sit idle, but God is good. Rest easy knowing, if it comes to that, I would be back with my father and mother where I belong.”


    The mayor cleared his throat. “My Lady, please, do not bring about such omens. We would much rather you live a long and happy life.”


    She turned back to him, laughing that sweet laugh again. “Mr Mayor, did I not already say? It is the evil men who live long and happy lives. We good few are the ones who shall die young and unfulfilled. However, I would die standing to protect my parents’ ideals than on my knees, begging for mercy.”


    “Well said.”


    Her gaze drifted over to the fireplace, steam from her cup feeding into the heat’s distortion, what she saw shifting and hazy. “If we all do make it to next Christmas, I believe everything will be in place.”


    “My Lady certainly is ambitious,” he said, speaking with some humour as if to help lighten the mood.


    “Rather than an accolade of my talent, it is a denouncement of this country—no, this world,” she said, bringing her cup to her lip, yet not drinking. “There is no greatness we may entrust ourselves to. We have only ourselves.”


    He went to speak a few times, coming up empty, until he finally asked as if joking, “My Lady does not think herself great?”


    “Greatness is something for our successors to decide. Whether hero or villain or someone that history forgets entirely, right now, I can only be Julia.”