Venice, official residence of a high-ranking official.
Port Authority Director Federico de Luca had finally found a moment of leisure. He dropped into his seat and, utterly unconcerned with his appearance, began wiping away his sweat with a towel.
"Federico! Just look at yourself! Wearing a sleeveless undershirt with a towel draped over you—you look just like a dock laborer!"
The meeting room erupted in laughter.
"I can't compare to you, Director Manol of the Commerce Bureau. Drinking tea and chatting counts as work for you. More than a thousand ships pass through the port every day, and I have to approve every single one."
Port Authority Director Federico de Luca nudged the Police Bureau Director beside him with his elbow.
"Know why I don't hire a female secretary?"
"Because you like men?"
"Fuck off! The registration manifests for these ships alone weigh nearly two tons every week. If I really hired some young girl, she'd turn into an old granny in days!"
The crowd burst into laughter again.
But this laughter was not mockery; it carried a sense of pride.
At this time, over a thousand ships passed through the Port of Venice each day. Though this number fell short of London's, the annual cargo throughput of the single port had already far surpassed London's.
After all, the Austrian Empire had few ports, and nearly all bulk goods from the open seas had to pass through Venice.
Take the nineteenth century as an example: the number of ships passing through Liverpool each year was less than 3% of those at the Port of London, yet their annual cargo throughput was comparable.
That was because Liverpool was Britain's largest cotton distribution center at the time. Cotton alone accounted for the equivalent of 80% of London's cargo throughput.
The trade volume