Guilds

Entering the shop, they found a young apprentice calculating accounts behind the counter. Various pieces of plate armor hung on the left wall, including helmets, cuirasses, arm guards, and greaves. Weapons hung on the right wall, such as two-handed longswords, one-handed swords, halberds, and daggers.

Phil was familiar with the shopkeeper. After exchanging a brief greeting, he led Vitus to the back courtyard, where a blacksmith was forging a knight's longsword.

Clang! Clang!

The hammer came down, shaping and stretching the red-hot iron amid flying sparks. The blacksmith whistled leisurely, his expression calm and composed. Beside him, an apprentice worked the bellows, the firelight flickering across his focused face.

Phil: "Master Vasari, I'd like to borrow two sets of armor and some blunted swords to practice swordsmanship with my friend."

The blacksmith plunged the finished longsword into a wooden tub to quench it. White steam hissed upward. After examining the blade for a long while, he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to these two boring young men. "No problem. That batch in the warehouse belongs to your family. If you break anything, it's not my concern."

The apprentice fetched two sets of plate armor and blunted practice swords from the warehouse. Phil geared up, then demonstrated the Glutzhauw, Wrath Strike, Lichtenauer Style, and the rest to Vitus...

Time passed. Vitus grasped the general idea, but remained where he was. He didn't consider himself some swordsmanship prodigy who could master renowned techniques with a single glance.

Phil asked in confusion, "Is there no tradition of martial training among members of the Byzantine imperial family?"

Vitus replied, "I lived in seclusion for a long time, and focused my energy on my studies. A few of my brothers trained in martial arts. Constantine was the best with a sword. During the siege, he took down at least five enemies."

Hearing his excuse, Phil remained entirely focused on practicing swordsmanship. He raised his blunted sword, assumed a stance, and told Vitus to attack first.

"Uh, are you sure?" Helplessly, Vitus lowered his helmet's visor, then stepped forward and swung his sword with all his strength.

On the right side of the open ground, Phil imitated Master Conan's movements, using his sword blade to knock against the tip of Vitus's sword. Unfortunately, his follow-up was too slow. Before Phil's blade could hit its target, Vitus's longsword had already landed a heavy blow on Phil's helmet.

Phil staggered, then lifted his visor. "That's not right. Why can't I follow through? Let's try again."

After several attempts, he still couldn't perform a proper Master Strike.

Phil decided to try a different approach, thinking to himself, When Vitus comes down with another overhead strike, I'll still use my blade to catch the tip of his sword, then twist it aside. I'll step to the side and thrust my longsword at his chest at the same time. Right, I'll use the Lichtenauer Style.

But the idea was beautiful; reality was cruel.

Phil did manage to block his opponent's overhead strike with his longsword, but Vitus's blow was too powerful. It threw Phil off balance, and he missed the perfect moment to twist the sword aside. The Lichtenauer Style failed, and Vitus blocked Phil's follow-up counterattack.

At that point, Vitus got carried away and tried the sword technique he'd just seen. He couldn't perform it either.

And so the two engaged in a sword fight utterly devoid of technique, swinging their blunted swords at each other like two country shepherds fighting with sticks. The blacksmith stopped working, laughing heartily at the pair of clowns.

"Young masters, you're both men of standing. Leave this sort of sword-swinging business to your underlings."

Phil was nearly out of stamina, so he seized the opportunity to raise his hand and call a halt. He lifted his visor, bent over, and gasped for breath. He simply couldn't understand why he was unable to learn the techniques that swordsmanship masters performed with such ease.

Across from him, Vitus took off his helmet and ran a hand through his damp hair, carefully replaying what had happened.

Fast. Too fast!

From the perspective of someone experiencing it firsthand, the instant his opponent struck, the sword's tip came at him like a streak of shadow. There was no way to catch the right moment. Vitus could only block by instinct or duck out of the way.

No, the Master Strike couldn't be that simple. It must involve special footwork and techniques for generating force, as well as years of practice. Unfortunately, there was no time.

A person's energy was limited. Vitus's plans for the near future were to work out the Euler Ballistic Equation, read military treatises, and organize the scientific knowledge of later generations.

In his view, the Ottomans could field armies of fifty or even a hundred thousand in crucial battles. Personal martial skill played a negligible role. Even if he spent a great deal of energy earning a reputation as a swordsmanship master in Italy, what would that change?

Vitus took off his armor and chatted with the apprentice. He learned that the apprenticeship lasted seven years, and apprentices received no wages while learning their trade. Even after completing their training, they couldn't immediately open their own shops. Instead, they had to work for their masters or other shops, getting paid by the piece.

"If that's the case, what does it take to open an independent shop?"

The apprentice stacked Vitus's armor back in the warehouse. "You have to carefully make a 'masterpiece' to prove your skills have reached maturity. Only after winning the approval of most guild members do you have a chance of being promoted to full membership."

"In recent decades, the Blacksmiths' Guild has leaned toward reducing competition and strictly limiting new members. Advancement has become difficult. Many apprentices can only work for others their whole lives, or leave Florence and become village blacksmiths somewhere remote. I suppose that's my fate..."

After leaving the blacksmith's shop, Vitus followed Phil around the city. Florence had many churches. Apart from the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, which was still under construction, every guild had also contributed to building its own church, dedicated to the patron saint of its trade.

After touring the city, Vitus came to a conclusion:

In Florence, guilds wielded far more power and influence than they did in other cities.

The city had twenty-one guilds, divided into seven major guilds and fourteen minor guilds.

Members of the seven major guilds belonged to the elite class and were known as the Popolo Grasso. They included the Bankers' Guild, the Wool Merchants' Guild, the Silk Guild...

By contrast, members of the fourteen minor guilds were known as the Popolo Minuto. They included all kinds of artisans and small merchants, and belonged to the city's middle class.

"Politically speaking, the Signoria of Florence came from the seven major guilds, and the guilds also held most of the seats in the council. The members of all twenty-one guilds added up to roughly three thousand people. The fate of the entire Republic of Florence was in their hands."

As his understanding deepened, Vitus completely abandoned the idea of establishing a business in Florence.

Joining a guild took time and effort, especially for an outsider like him. Without joining one, he would face collective suppression by guild members.

Forget it. I'd better focus on my own work and save up some more money.

Vitus stopped and asked to visit the Di Maggio family's cannon workshop. Phil looked puzzled. "It's noisy and sweltering in there. There's nothing fun to see."

"As an artillery commander, it's part of my job."

Phil sighed. "Fine. You're about my age, but you're as boring as my brother. It'd be such a shame not to enjoy yourself while you're young."