Florence

Vitus rode his white horse, observing the wheat fields on both sides of the road. It was currently the overwintering period for the wheat; these low, young stalks would have to endure the entire harsh winter before they could stand straight and tall in the coming spring. The narrow ridges stretched along the gentle slopes into the distance, and the tolling of church bells drifted from a far-off village, startling the birds in the fields.

Vitus watched for a moment before turning his attention to himself. My brother has led the diplomatic mission to France; what am I supposed to do?

Return to Constantinople?

Looking at Emperor Manuel's progeny, the eldest son, John, was the recognized heir, invested as co-emperor and gradually taking over state affairs.

The second, Theodore, was the Despot of the Morea and had married the niece of Pope Martin V.

The third, Andronikos, was the Despot of Thessalonica.

The fifth, Constantine, though lacking real power, was favored by the Empress and trusted by both the Crown Prince and the ministers.

Beyond them were Demetrius and Thomas, both still minors. Vitus felt that his own level of importance was much the same as theirs; even if he returned to Constantinople, he would not be able to exert much influence.

Thinking of this, he instinctively touched his chest, where the reward from his last battle was hidden inside his clothes—a bill of exchange (Lettera di Cambio) gifted by Giulio.

During this era, the financial system in Italy was already quite advanced. The bill was written on parchment, issued by the Di Maggio Bank, and valued at one thousand florins (ducats); the bearer could cash it in Florence, Rome, Genoa, Marseille, Venice, Naples, and other places.

Without a doubt, this was a massive sum, equivalent to a hundred years of labor for an average Italian citizen, enough to purchase a country estate. Additionally, before departing, the Crown Prince had given Vitus two hundred ducats for travel expenses. This money could cover daily costs, but it was far from enough to start a business.

Vitus's notebook contained two epoch-making inventions: the Spinning Jenny and bone china.

The Spinning Jenny could drastically increase the speed of spinning yarn. The raw materials for bone china were bone ash, kaolin, and quartz, which could serve as a substitute for Oriental porcelain.

The trouble was that there were no patent laws in this era; Italian merchants could simply copy the designs and then use their vast capital and sales networks to crush Vitus's industry.

"Sigh, doing business is truly not easy."

Just then, Giulio happened to come to Vitus's side. "Your Highness, do you intend to return to Constantinople, or will you take a ship to France to catch up with the Eastern Roman mission?"

"I do not know."

Sensing the young man's frustration, Giulio took the opportunity to suggest, "The conflict between Milan and Florence is irreconcilable; there will surely be a decisive battle in the future. I would like to ask for your help once more: serve as an artillery commander and assist my eldest son, Pauli."

Me, a member of the Eastern Roman royal family, working as a mercenary for a merchant?

Just as Vitus was about to say something, Giulio's offer reached his ears: one thousand florins per year, plus a share of the spoils of war.

So much?

The annual salary of a high-ranking civil servant in the Eastern Roman Empire was about three hundred ducats, and even that was often in arrears, with the Emperor frequently using grain and silk to fill the gaps.

The financial situation in Venice and Florence was excellent, yet an annual salary of one thousand ducats was still rare. Vitus found it hard to believe. "Very well, I accept. From now on, I will continue to use the pseudonym 'Anthony Doukas.' However, why are you offering such a high salary?"

Giulio's smile faded, his gaze shifting toward the rolling hills in the distance. A cold wind blew from the direction of the Alps, causing his cloak to snap in the breeze.

"By the standards of an artillery commander, this salary is indeed too high, but your value is worth more than that. As a banker who has been in the business for decades, my footprints cover all of Europe. I have helped many kings raise funds for war and have seen all sorts of commanders, including Henry V and Jan Žižka...

I feel that you, like them, possess a special ability—a mastery over the battlefield. This talent is extremely precious; one could say you were born for war."

Regarding the wealthy merchant's assessment, Vitus could not tell if the man was flattering him or offering sincere praise. He said nothing more and followed the procession forward until a magnificent city appeared ahead, with tall walls, numerous square towers, and grand gates.

"Florence, the cradle of the Renaissance. Finally here."

According to Giulio's introduction, at its peak in the 14th century, Florence had a population of 120,000, until the Black Death broke out in 1348, causing the city's population to plummet. For decades, Florence's population growth had been slow; currently, the number of citizens was only 60,000, leaving a large amount of vacant land within the city.

Vitus sighed inwardly, "Constantinople and Florence—the populations of the two cities are similar. Yet, the urban area of Constantinople is about 2.5 times that of Florence, and it is in a much more desolate state."

Passing through the Porta San Gallo, the noise intensified sharply. The ground floors of the buildings lining the street served as shops, while the second and third floors were used for living. The shutters above were open, and almost every windowsill held clay flowerpots; being the dead of winter, the pots contained only withered branches and leaves.

Turning a street corner, a pungent smell of alum rushed toward him, and Vitus could not help but cover his nose and mouth.

Workshops of the wool guild were everywhere on both sides, where they were rinsing and dyeing fabrics. Several apprentices were shaking out scarlet woolen cloth at the doorways, the color so vivid it seemed as if it could melt the snow.

"The core industries of this city are finance and textiles, which are the most profitable sectors. That is why they have enough wealth to sponsor literature and art, eventually giving birth to the Renaissance. Tsk tsk, it's good to be rich."

Thinking of this, Vitus asked Giulio about two names: Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo Buonarroti, which caused the wealthy merchant to shake his head repeatedly.

"Never heard of them. Are you sure they are Florentines? If you are interested in art, you should look for Fabriano or Donatello; they are the great artists worth paying attention to."

Accompanied by their idle chatter, the group passed through the narrow and noisy streets, arriving at the wealthier district on higher ground.

The next moment, the gate swung open, and Vitus stepped into the courtyard, the clamor of the outside world instantly cut off.

The warm winter sun poured down, illuminating the entire courtyard. In the center stood a pool, surrounded by an elegant arcade supported by slender stone columns holding up semicircular arches.

Under the host's guidance, Vitus headed to the guest room on the second floor. Pushing open the window, the iconic scenery of Florence came into view. Most of the building roofs were covered in orange-red tiles, resembling a mottled and warm sea of orange-red.

In the distance, the magnificent Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore was under construction, its massive dome not yet closed. The melodious tolling of bells drifted from near and far, and Vitus could faintly see the tiny figures of people working atop it.