The diplomatic answer to Leo III's question is, "That is up to the bishops who will attend the Council."
However, Ludovico smiled and spoke.
"I'm thinking positively."
He honestly stated that he would influence the outcome of the Council.
In other words, Emperor Ludovico had firmly demonstrated his support for the Allemand Law!
Cesare's expression brightened. He had to bite his lip tightly so that he could not shake his hand while shouting, "Thank you, thank you."
Since Cesare was actually the eldest son of Leo III, he expected that if the pardon of the Allemand Act was carried out, including his date of birth, he would naturally become a Prince with the right of succession.
Ludovico looked at the violent flush on Cesare's cheek and said graciously:
"I hope that this ambassador will be a beacon of hope for talented but marginalized youth."
Ariadne had to try not to laugh at Ludovico's benevolent expression. It was as if she could hear the voice of the Pope behind his face.
'But that wasn't you.'
Cardinal de Mare thought that the naughtiest guy in the room was Ludovico.
Pretending to know nothing was the same as the corridor of the Pope's Office, where the Cardinal was confirmed as his successor, and he remembered the anger he had put aside.
Duke Cesare was the nephew of the current King, and his birth record had been tampered with.
If the documentary enhancement bill is approved along with the Allemand Law, Cesare will have nothing to do with the Allemand Law Ambassador.
This is because no matter what the original birth is, it is a proposal to strengthen documentary status.
The fittest—the King's nephew—cannot be exempted from the fittest again.
Cesare likes it because he doesn't know about it, and Ludovico knows very well that Cesare is a dog chasing chickens, but he smiles like that.
However, Ludovico remained calm in his ears, despite the criticism circulating in the room.
His ears were a little ticklish, but this is the level of daily work that accompanies the calm work.
The plan was made by de Mare's second daughter, and it was de Mare's own decision to do it. The villain is the woman over there.
I only put a postscript in it, so why is this my fault?
Later, the Duke of Cesare chases after her with a sword, not him.
The Pope, who had nothing to lose, lost his remorse and grinned.
In San Carlo's social circles, the story that Cardinal de Mare was in the middle of life spread like a foregone conclusion.
"His Majesty asked His Holiness the Pope to take the throne, and His Holiness said that he would not enter unless he was accompanied by Cardinal de Mare."
“It’s not like the Pope can’t speak Etruscan... This is a real show of trust.”
“Not only that. Now, all kinds of approval documents have to go through Cardinal de Mare before they can be sent up.”
Although he was only teaching the successor class as an attribute, to others, it seemed like a sudden rise to fame and fortune.
Perhaps the fact that Cardinal de Mare was seen as a solid second-in-command and a powerful chief of staff may be a derogation from his current position.
The successor is not just the second in command, but is also the one who will ascend to the position of Pope when the predecessor dies.
“There’s talk going around that the Holy See will raise the wine tax for monasteries this time. How much do you expect the increase to be? 30%? 40%?”
"I was thinking of doing 2 at the monastery... That's too hopeful."
"I don't think so, right? Considering the liquor tax and luxury goods imposed by the country, it is about 4-5 percent."
Among the lords of the south-central region, the recent proposal to raise the liquor tax announced by the Pope's Office was a hot topic.
The Pope's Office under Pope Ludovico was playing the card of raising taxes on the wine produced by the monastery to raise the military budget for the next crusade as much as possible within the Emperor's Office, under the pretext of "breaking the custom of frequent incidents and accidents caused by drinking."
"If the liquor tax is higher than expected by the monastery, the monastery wine will not be competitive in price."
"The increase in the monastery wine tax is a huge boon for the central and southern provinces. Don't you even dip wine in your estate? Think about it, if the wine from the monastery next door stops being produced..."
"Hey, this is our chance. You can't just let it go, you have to get on it!"
"Do you have a rope that you can pull on His Eminence, Cardinal? Someone should lobby him to raise it a lot."
People with solicitations for various interests clamored to meet Cardinal de Mare.
Of course, it was not easy to come and meet the Cardinal.
You have to stand in the way to eat a lot of water when it comes in, but the Cardinal has already climbed too high.
In such cases, people tried to recruit personal connections near important people to connect with them.
"Hey, Ippolito. You're very expensive."
Leticia de Leonati's cousin, Leandro de Leonati, patted Ippolito on the shoulder. Even though they weren't in that relationship, they pretended to be close to each other.
He only recently got to know Ipolito through Isabella's friend, his cousin's sister.
A relationship bound by gains must continue to bring benefits to maintain a position of sickness. Leandro faithfully fulfilled his role.
"Listen to what I brought you. Count Pinatelli wants to invite you to his next salon meeting!"
"Count Pinatelli?"
Count Pinatelli was the owner of the Monteforgia estate in the south-central part of the country.
The Duke's lineage of the Duke of Monteporzia was cut off and passed down the domain, leaving only the estates and the title of Duke, but the family became the fox of the mountain without tigers.
Count Pinatelli posed as the head of the south-central and vacant lands outside the sphere of influence of the Duke of Taranto, the lord of the south, and the Marquis of Guatieri, the powerful man of the east.
The corners of Ippolito's mouth smirked. It was a smile that he couldn't control because he liked it so much. There was no way he could refuse this invitation.
The salon of Count Pinatelli, who visited Sir Leonati —this friend had worked hard as a child and received the knighthood of a knight—was even more satisfying.
Count Pinatelli grabbed the hands of Ippolito, an illegitimate commoner who would normally have been treated like an invisible man, and led him inside.
There, he personally introduced his new young friend to the gentlemen in the salon.
"Everyone, everyone, attention! This is the Ippolito de Mare, the eldest son of Cardinal de Mare!"
At the word "de Mare," people turned their heads in unison. Ippolito enjoyed the moment.
Count Pinatelli not only praised the family, but also made the bait's mind fluctuate with his gold lacquer on Ippolito personally.
"Ippolito is a very bright young man with a promising future!"
The aristocratic householders, who all took one seat at a time, clapped for Ippolito. His adrenaline was so high that his heart felt like it was going to jump out.
- "Oh, how are you, Director!"
- "You look so good!"
“Come here, come here. Have a drink.”
Fortunately for Ippolito, the attendees at the meeting were completely unaware of his salty recent antics.
Most of these people, who were heads of families, were in their late forties at the most, and tobacco containing pawak powder was mainly spread among the young people.
Ippolito felt a sense of recognition as he received the enthusiastic welcome from the elders.
But the gentlemen who had invited Ippolito to this place out of concern for the new tax and its increased rate in the Holy See had not one single interest in Ippolito himself.
But these were not the kind of men who would be caught by Ippolito, who had to harbor such feelings for twenty more years.
Becoming a palace official was an open door to illegitimate children, but if there were two similar applicants, the hand of the one with the more honorable birth status was likely to be raised.
Among them, one of the old men, who wanted to look better, defended Ippolito by giving a slap to his colleague.
“No, isn’t Cardinal de Mare the young man’s biological father? Surely he wouldn’t leave out his own son?”
Ippolito couldn't hide his blush. The best he could do was to speak impolitely in a polite tone.
“As expected... I guess so?”
“Management is just the beginning! If you excel as an administrator, will His Majesty the King leave you alone?”
They enticed Ippolito with countless examples of past instances in which they had bestowed titles on those around them in order to improve their relations with those in power.
Ippolito lost the last bit of reason he had been holding onto, and his eyes rolled back.
“Hahaha! Seniors, just trust me! When things go well, I will of course treat you all! Hahahaha!”
After receiving the very expensive grappa they poured for him into a crystal glass in both hands, he shouted with haughtiness.
Of course, there was nothing free in the world. In exchange for feeding Ippolito an expensive drink, they squeezed out a story that Cardinal de Mare also liked grappa.
Count Pinatelli agrees and promises Ippolito the finest grappa aged for 50 years if he comes to visit with the Cardinal.
"I'll take it from my study! It was born in 1077 and was produced in the monastery of San Fercini."
"What? You have a grappa from 1077?"
"Well, it's very precious, but there's only one bottle left in our family's collection that has been passed down from generation to generation."
It was true that it was a precious liquor, but there were more than fifteen bottles left.
When aristocrats buy alcohol, they buy it in a box, so they keep dozens of bottles at a minimum, or hundreds at most.
However, shouting that it was the last quantity before it was sold out was the basis of fraud.
Ippolito, whose vanity had blindfolded his cautious eyes, licked his lips at the thought of drinking a grappa produced by the monastery of San Fercini from 1077.
He wants to be a man who has drunk the only bottle of precious liquor left in the country.
Ippolito finally boasted to Count Pinatelli and the participants of today's salon that he would bring his father with him. They haven't even reconciled yet.
"My father! Just me! You believe this!"
With his tongue twisting, Ippolito exclaimed excitedly.
"I'll bring him back! My dad goes wherever I say! Am I the only eldest son? Hahahahaha!"
However, alcohol will eventually break down, and delusion will disappear.
The meeting broke up, and on the way home, Ippolito's pupils fluttered nervously. It wasn't that he couldn't take his father to the salon.
'What if I smuggle pawak gets my ankle?'
If you are on the road to success as an official, you are bound to be rife with all kinds of conspiracies.
However, the information that Ippolito was smuggling and distributing pawak was not a conspiracy, but a public interest report.
Ippolito knew very well that the things he brought and sold were things that ruined other people's lives.
He told himself that it would be okay because he added a very small amount, but he never smoked Pawak tobacco. That alone was obvious.
'My Wealth... My promotion...'
Imagining the ridiculously glamorous future and its entirety flying away at the same time, Ippolito shuddered.
I couldn't blow them all. Oh, I couldn't do that.
"You know, Marco."
Ippolito sat in his gang's hideout, a warehouse by the docks where Pawak tobacco was stored, and spoke to Marco, the leader of their smuggling ring.
"There are more people in the organization these days... Business is going well... Do you even need me?"
Marco was a bald man with a lumpy muscle and a large scar on his face.
He was actually in his early twenties, but he looked forty years old.
"What are you talking about?"
Marco's thick and thick eyebrows twitched in contrast to his blank hair.
It was Ippolito who saved Pawak in the first place, and it was Ippolito who mixed it.
Even if the subordinates who were in charge of smuggling Pawak now knew about it, Ippolito was the only one who knew how to mix Pawak.
Marco's organization was a fatal blow if Ippolito moved to the next organization.
"Are you saying you're going out to get on another boat?"
Marco, who thought that Ippolito might move to a rival organization, snarled in a bottom of his voice.
He decided that the best way to get rid of the master, who smelled of ink, was to intimidate.
"I saved you from a scratchy face and a nosebleed on the street, what? Get out?"
The bald Marco asked the bastards next to him.
"How do we deal with a child who doesn't know grace?"
Four or five ugly men of all kinds shouted in unison.
"I'm going to soak it, brother!"
Ippolito's face turned pale.
"Did you listen to the kids?"
Marco looked at Ippolito grimly. Ippolito bowed his head and fell on his stomach. He was so tired that he couldn't answer properly.
However, Marco, who had been through all the battles at the pier, immediately realized that Ippolito had not surrendered to his heart.
Even if he bows down now, he will definitely try to fulfill his will someday.
Marco decided to persuade Ippolito in the way he knew best.
"Marco in the harbor is a merciful man, and I don't think you can do the rough things that my bastards do. Ignorant bastards who soak it."
He looked at Ippolito and said kindly, but in a bitter way to his listeners.
"If you soak it, your internal organs will be spoiled. Give me some kind of internal organs to get out. If the internal organs are damaged, they die, right?"
Marco stretched out his right hand and folded only his thumb and forefinger.
"How about three fingers?"
Ippolito's face turned pale.
However, Ludovico smiled and spoke.
"I'm thinking positively."
He honestly stated that he would influence the outcome of the Council.
In other words, Emperor Ludovico had firmly demonstrated his support for the Allemand Law!
Cesare's expression brightened. He had to bite his lip tightly so that he could not shake his hand while shouting, "Thank you, thank you."
Since Cesare was actually the eldest son of Leo III, he expected that if the pardon of the Allemand Act was carried out, including his date of birth, he would naturally become a Prince with the right of succession.
Ludovico looked at the violent flush on Cesare's cheek and said graciously:
"I hope that this ambassador will be a beacon of hope for talented but marginalized youth."
Ariadne had to try not to laugh at Ludovico's benevolent expression. It was as if she could hear the voice of the Pope behind his face.
'But that wasn't you.'
Cardinal de Mare thought that the naughtiest guy in the room was Ludovico.
Pretending to know nothing was the same as the corridor of the Pope's Office, where the Cardinal was confirmed as his successor, and he remembered the anger he had put aside.
Duke Cesare was the nephew of the current King, and his birth record had been tampered with.
If the documentary enhancement bill is approved along with the Allemand Law, Cesare will have nothing to do with the Allemand Law Ambassador.
This is because no matter what the original birth is, it is a proposal to strengthen documentary status.
The fittest—the King's nephew—cannot be exempted from the fittest again.
Cesare likes it because he doesn't know about it, and Ludovico knows very well that Cesare is a dog chasing chickens, but he smiles like that.
However, Ludovico remained calm in his ears, despite the criticism circulating in the room.
His ears were a little ticklish, but this is the level of daily work that accompanies the calm work.
The plan was made by de Mare's second daughter, and it was de Mare's own decision to do it. The villain is the woman over there.
I only put a postscript in it, so why is this my fault?
Later, the Duke of Cesare chases after her with a sword, not him.
The Pope, who had nothing to lose, lost his remorse and grinned.
***
In San Carlo's social circles, the story that Cardinal de Mare was in the middle of life spread like a foregone conclusion.
"His Majesty asked His Holiness the Pope to take the throne, and His Holiness said that he would not enter unless he was accompanied by Cardinal de Mare."
“It’s not like the Pope can’t speak Etruscan... This is a real show of trust.”
“Not only that. Now, all kinds of approval documents have to go through Cardinal de Mare before they can be sent up.”
Although he was only teaching the successor class as an attribute, to others, it seemed like a sudden rise to fame and fortune.
Perhaps the fact that Cardinal de Mare was seen as a solid second-in-command and a powerful chief of staff may be a derogation from his current position.
The successor is not just the second in command, but is also the one who will ascend to the position of Pope when the predecessor dies.
“There’s talk going around that the Holy See will raise the wine tax for monasteries this time. How much do you expect the increase to be? 30%? 40%?”
"I was thinking of doing 2 at the monastery... That's too hopeful."
"I don't think so, right? Considering the liquor tax and luxury goods imposed by the country, it is about 4-5 percent."
Among the lords of the south-central region, the recent proposal to raise the liquor tax announced by the Pope's Office was a hot topic.
The Pope's Office under Pope Ludovico was playing the card of raising taxes on the wine produced by the monastery to raise the military budget for the next crusade as much as possible within the Emperor's Office, under the pretext of "breaking the custom of frequent incidents and accidents caused by drinking."
"If the liquor tax is higher than expected by the monastery, the monastery wine will not be competitive in price."
"The increase in the monastery wine tax is a huge boon for the central and southern provinces. Don't you even dip wine in your estate? Think about it, if the wine from the monastery next door stops being produced..."
"Hey, this is our chance. You can't just let it go, you have to get on it!"
"Do you have a rope that you can pull on His Eminence, Cardinal? Someone should lobby him to raise it a lot."
People with solicitations for various interests clamored to meet Cardinal de Mare.
Of course, it was not easy to come and meet the Cardinal.
You have to stand in the way to eat a lot of water when it comes in, but the Cardinal has already climbed too high.
In such cases, people tried to recruit personal connections near important people to connect with them.
"Hey, Ippolito. You're very expensive."
Leticia de Leonati's cousin, Leandro de Leonati, patted Ippolito on the shoulder. Even though they weren't in that relationship, they pretended to be close to each other.
He only recently got to know Ipolito through Isabella's friend, his cousin's sister.
A relationship bound by gains must continue to bring benefits to maintain a position of sickness. Leandro faithfully fulfilled his role.
"Listen to what I brought you. Count Pinatelli wants to invite you to his next salon meeting!"
"Count Pinatelli?"
Count Pinatelli was the owner of the Monteforgia estate in the south-central part of the country.
The Duke's lineage of the Duke of Monteporzia was cut off and passed down the domain, leaving only the estates and the title of Duke, but the family became the fox of the mountain without tigers.
Count Pinatelli posed as the head of the south-central and vacant lands outside the sphere of influence of the Duke of Taranto, the lord of the south, and the Marquis of Guatieri, the powerful man of the east.
The corners of Ippolito's mouth smirked. It was a smile that he couldn't control because he liked it so much. There was no way he could refuse this invitation.
The salon of Count Pinatelli, who visited Sir Leonati —this friend had worked hard as a child and received the knighthood of a knight—was even more satisfying.
Count Pinatelli grabbed the hands of Ippolito, an illegitimate commoner who would normally have been treated like an invisible man, and led him inside.
There, he personally introduced his new young friend to the gentlemen in the salon.
"Everyone, everyone, attention! This is the Ippolito de Mare, the eldest son of Cardinal de Mare!"
At the word "de Mare," people turned their heads in unison. Ippolito enjoyed the moment.
Count Pinatelli not only praised the family, but also made the bait's mind fluctuate with his gold lacquer on Ippolito personally.
"Ippolito is a very bright young man with a promising future!"
The aristocratic householders, who all took one seat at a time, clapped for Ippolito. His adrenaline was so high that his heart felt like it was going to jump out.
- "Oh, how are you, Director!"
- "You look so good!"
“Come here, come here. Have a drink.”
Fortunately for Ippolito, the attendees at the meeting were completely unaware of his salty recent antics.
Most of these people, who were heads of families, were in their late forties at the most, and tobacco containing pawak powder was mainly spread among the young people.
Ippolito felt a sense of recognition as he received the enthusiastic welcome from the elders.
But the gentlemen who had invited Ippolito to this place out of concern for the new tax and its increased rate in the Holy See had not one single interest in Ippolito himself.
But these were not the kind of men who would be caught by Ippolito, who had to harbor such feelings for twenty more years.
The lords who owned the lands in the central and southern regions stole Ippolito's soul with praise, encouragement, and hopeful visions and confident promises for the future...
“It is a national loss for a fine young man like you not to serve as a palace official.”
“Besides, there were rumors that there would be a general amnesty under the Allemand Act. If that were to pass, your employment would become much easier!”
“It is a national loss for a fine young man like you not to serve as a palace official.”
“Besides, there were rumors that there would be a general amnesty under the Allemand Act. If that were to pass, your employment would become much easier!”
Becoming a palace official was an open door to illegitimate children, but if there were two similar applicants, the hand of the one with the more honorable birth status was likely to be raised.
Among them, one of the old men, who wanted to look better, defended Ippolito by giving a slap to his colleague.
“No, isn’t Cardinal de Mare the young man’s biological father? Surely he wouldn’t leave out his own son?”
Ippolito couldn't hide his blush. The best he could do was to speak impolitely in a polite tone.
“As expected... I guess so?”
The men kept the melting Ippolito in the air.
“Management is just the beginning! If you excel as an administrator, will His Majesty the King leave you alone?”
They enticed Ippolito with countless examples of past instances in which they had bestowed titles on those around them in order to improve their relations with those in power.
Ippolito lost the last bit of reason he had been holding onto, and his eyes rolled back.
“Hahaha! Seniors, just trust me! When things go well, I will of course treat you all! Hahahaha!”
After receiving the very expensive grappa they poured for him into a crystal glass in both hands, he shouted with haughtiness.
Of course, there was nothing free in the world. In exchange for feeding Ippolito an expensive drink, they squeezed out a story that Cardinal de Mare also liked grappa.
Count Pinatelli agrees and promises Ippolito the finest grappa aged for 50 years if he comes to visit with the Cardinal.
"I'll take it from my study! It was born in 1077 and was produced in the monastery of San Fercini."
"What? You have a grappa from 1077?"
"Well, it's very precious, but there's only one bottle left in our family's collection that has been passed down from generation to generation."
It was true that it was a precious liquor, but there were more than fifteen bottles left.
When aristocrats buy alcohol, they buy it in a box, so they keep dozens of bottles at a minimum, or hundreds at most.
However, shouting that it was the last quantity before it was sold out was the basis of fraud.
Ippolito, whose vanity had blindfolded his cautious eyes, licked his lips at the thought of drinking a grappa produced by the monastery of San Fercini from 1077.
He wants to be a man who has drunk the only bottle of precious liquor left in the country.
Ippolito finally boasted to Count Pinatelli and the participants of today's salon that he would bring his father with him. They haven't even reconciled yet.
"My father! Just me! You believe this!"
With his tongue twisting, Ippolito exclaimed excitedly.
"I'll bring him back! My dad goes wherever I say! Am I the only eldest son? Hahahahaha!"
However, alcohol will eventually break down, and delusion will disappear.
The meeting broke up, and on the way home, Ippolito's pupils fluttered nervously. It wasn't that he couldn't take his father to the salon.
'What if I smuggle pawak gets my ankle?'
If you are on the road to success as an official, you are bound to be rife with all kinds of conspiracies.
However, the information that Ippolito was smuggling and distributing pawak was not a conspiracy, but a public interest report.
Ippolito knew very well that the things he brought and sold were things that ruined other people's lives.
He told himself that it would be okay because he added a very small amount, but he never smoked Pawak tobacco. That alone was obvious.
'My Wealth... My promotion...'
Imagining the ridiculously glamorous future and its entirety flying away at the same time, Ippolito shuddered.
I couldn't blow them all. Oh, I couldn't do that.
***
"You know, Marco."
Ippolito sat in his gang's hideout, a warehouse by the docks where Pawak tobacco was stored, and spoke to Marco, the leader of their smuggling ring.
"There are more people in the organization these days... Business is going well... Do you even need me?"
Marco was a bald man with a lumpy muscle and a large scar on his face.
He was actually in his early twenties, but he looked forty years old.
"What are you talking about?"
Marco's thick and thick eyebrows twitched in contrast to his blank hair.
It was Ippolito who saved Pawak in the first place, and it was Ippolito who mixed it.
Even if the subordinates who were in charge of smuggling Pawak now knew about it, Ippolito was the only one who knew how to mix Pawak.
Marco's organization was a fatal blow if Ippolito moved to the next organization.
"Are you saying you're going out to get on another boat?"
Marco, who thought that Ippolito might move to a rival organization, snarled in a bottom of his voice.
He decided that the best way to get rid of the master, who smelled of ink, was to intimidate.
"I saved you from a scratchy face and a nosebleed on the street, what? Get out?"
The bald Marco asked the bastards next to him.
"How do we deal with a child who doesn't know grace?"
Four or five ugly men of all kinds shouted in unison.
"I'm going to soak it, brother!"
Ippolito's face turned pale.
"Did you listen to the kids?"
Marco looked at Ippolito grimly. Ippolito bowed his head and fell on his stomach. He was so tired that he couldn't answer properly.
However, Marco, who had been through all the battles at the pier, immediately realized that Ippolito had not surrendered to his heart.
Even if he bows down now, he will definitely try to fulfill his will someday.
Marco decided to persuade Ippolito in the way he knew best.
"Marco in the harbor is a merciful man, and I don't think you can do the rough things that my bastards do. Ignorant bastards who soak it."
He looked at Ippolito and said kindly, but in a bitter way to his listeners.
"If you soak it, your internal organs will be spoiled. Give me some kind of internal organs to get out. If the internal organs are damaged, they die, right?"
Marco stretched out his right hand and folded only his thumb and forefinger.
"How about three fingers?"
Ippolito's face turned pale.
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