As had often been the case in recent years, she entertained her guests in the library. It was a broad room with no corners to hide in and plenty of topics for discussions spread across the shelves. With so many shelves hard to fill, she had more than books placed upon them, that all sorts of curiosities held a tiny exhibit, whether distant rarities or attempts at invention.

"Pray forgive this modest invitation, that I may only be so entertaining without my husband." She spoke with a smile, almost exaggerated, unusual for her.

Yet it was not unexpected to those present. "Ma'am is plenty entertaining even on her own," her guest said, his own voice lowered.

She gave a polite laugh, her eyes down-turned for a moment. Once that moment passed, though, she gestured at the shelf, her lips already moving. "My Lord knows of my interest in Roman writings. In one such work by our old friend Vitruvius, I found mention of this little thing and it rather amused me."

"It certainly looks amusing," he said, his furrowed brow offset by a small smile.

"One cannot be certain of its exact origins; however, it should be called an aeolipile, that it likely originates from Alexandria or perhaps Greece and merely spread to both Alexandria and Rome. Being of no practical use, it is no surprise it is not well-attested, that it is only in this work and another I have seen mention of it, with some implication that it is a known device, not something personally invented."

Her monologue accompanied her actions, that she moved this curiosity from its shelf and, with a few clicks of an attached mechanism, lit an oil lamp. While the flame wavered beneath a hollow, metal ball, a maid provided a jug from which she then poured a little water inside the metal ball through a hole. She returned the jug, and sealed the hole.

He nodded along, no longer alone, that some others had come to see the display, albeit deferring to their conversation and, if they spoke, it was to those others who had also come to watch.

"This kind of toy, it invites a certain inspiration. One feels that the principles imply the existence of some greater invention. Alas, so far, I have found its only use to be amusement," she said.

Not a hurried speech and, as she finished, the show had begun. A metal ball, hollow but for water, and a flame beneath, naturally this heated the water and water, once heated, became steam. Steam which grew massively in size, constrained by the metal ball—except for two bent pipes which stuck out the sides. So the steam escaped from the ball, forced out parallel to the ball's edge.

And it spun.

As if that escaping steam pushed the metal ball on its way out, the metal ball spun freely, well-balanced, that even this faint steam could move it. With a little time, it picked up an even greater speed, a blur.

The small crowd made such awed sounds, albeit restrained by upbringing. Her last words even became prophetic—or perhaps self-fulfilling—that many had wondering thoughts.

However, such thoughts evaporated as she used a thin, metal stick to not only stop the ball from spinning, but even to push it the other way, that it took a long moment to return to spinning how it had before. "Of such uses, I have considered to attach feathers that it might create a breeze. That would then invite the more thoughtful paradox of using heat to cool down."

While others continued to fiddle with the toy, her guest she had demonstrated it for accompanied her to the quieter centre of the room. For this day, the seating had been rearranged, this space beneath the glass roof now entirely greenery with some early-flowering plants among it. However, the path through this patch of greenery was only a few steps long, such plants not tall enough to obscure.

Rather than privacy, she brought him here for the contrast.

"How have My Lord's grandsons found the academy?" she asked, not gentle nor soft, but quiet. A question that did not need to be kept secret, yet of no use for others to hear.

He heard it, though, a kind of heaviness to his next breath. "This kind of thing, I am unsure how to answer."

"There is no need to fret, that the academy is entirely out of my hands, any praise or criticism no more than gossip to me," she said.

His mouth quirked, the polite smile he wore now with a hint of a smirk. "Indeed, Ma'am has been very particular on that point, particularly when the good bishop is around."

She did not deny it, but did not answer with a smile either. Her expression remained as it was and her gaze neither wavered nor wandered. "What need is there for one to interfere in parents arranging their children's education?"

Of course, the duality of her answer needed no explanation, nor did he want one. This was hardly the first time the topic had come up and it would not be the last. Rather, it had become as if a joke. How could these two academies—named in honour of her parents, built with her funds, at her discretion, under her management—have nothing to do with her?

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Except they truly didn't, the charter as clear as any other contract between herself and her other vassals. A contract which specified those rights she would surrender in exchange for certain obligations being fulfilled. Such a charter naturally resembled her relationship with other vassals as the academies were overseen by those same vassals.

As for what obligations an academy could fulfil, naturally it was military service.

She had no need to know the particular details. However the academy decided to supply them, all that mattered was that she would have these men who had been educated on matters of warfare grander than martial skill alone. Just as how, with her vassals, she dictated little, entrusting that their own desire to win honourable victories would result in them training themselves and their heirs well.

However, the academy became essential, not because she distrusted her vassals, but because the change in scale of warfare had a suddenness to it. Her vassals could naturally handle the logistics for a few hundred men as they and their ancestors had for centuries before. Thousands of men, though: the simplest things became difficult.

Her husband's push into Italy rested on the promised supplies of her silent allies and that a silver coin both did not spoil and bought a much greater weight in grain. That, for a traditional siege, even this modest army would struggle to pillage enough food to last a month. At the same time, the bountiful Venice mainland could easily support a few thousand more mouths—especially if that food could now not easily reach Venice itself.

These republics infested with merchants naturally had a weakness to money, one she would readily exploit.

While her thoughts drifted, his did too, the silence mutual until he broke it.

"Ma'am is certainly someone even better than her word. I would not say that I thought Ma'am dishonest, merely naive. Someone whose strength lay in words rather than actions. Such a lord is acceptable, often preferable. However, it is now clear to me that Ma'am's strength, rather than words or actions, is in her word. Such a lord, in my humble opinion, is ideal."

She listened with a small smile, her gaze not quite on him, yet not distant either, that her subtle motions indicated she clearly heard every word spoken. At the end, she brought up her hand to adjust her hat, gaze now clearly off of him.

"Although it is my birthday, My Lord need not provide such flattery. Again this year, without my husband, I cannot bring myself to celebrate, sufficient that alms are handed out and clemency given to those petty crimes which reflect poorly on us," she said, not quite a whisper, yet as if she did not want others to hear these words.

However, he did hear them and could only smile. "Very well, I shall indulge Ma'am in this fashion," he said as quietly.

For a moment longer, she continued to look out at her fellow guests, her other vassals, this a rare day she would summon them to "court". In her early years of rulership, she had seen fit to tour her land once and so had used that occasion to personally meet each smaller ruler under her. To implore them, not to sign a contract, but to trust her, and in time she demonstrated her trust in them. That she would not call them up without good reason, that she would honour old promises.

Of course, he had spoken to those who felt such freedom reflected her disinterest in them, her early years rather focused on the city. At the same time, he keenly remembered their meeting and how she acknowledged such a flaw in her father. Since then, although herself distant, her roads had come along to bring them that little closer.

"If My Lord is feeling indulgent, there is another matter," she said.

He found himself with a smile. Long ago, knowing he had but one sister who had died not long after birth, that he himself only had his two sons and his next living brother was rather young and quite a bachelor, he had thought his father had perhaps doted on this countess over a misplaced desire for a daughter-figure.

Over time, he had learned that, even in letters, she simply had this charm. Someone who had no doubt that what she said would be listened to and her orders followed. A quiet reminder that, not just a princess by virtue of marriage, but someone once expected to become queen of the Empire.

"Pray tell what matter is worth bothering Ma'am on this day?" he said lightly.

"That is, with the canal works, we have naturally both surveyed the appropriate land and sought particular easements. These kinds of matters require much discussion, that I find it preferable to begin such discussions early."

As reasonable as what she had said was, he laughed, the few chuckles lingering in his smile. "Surely Ma'am is not suggesting the canal would reach even the mountains?"

"I have entertained the thought of mining through the mountains, that we would be particularly fortunate to have such access to both Italy and those distant goods which come from the sea there."

She spoke as she often did without particular emotion, calm and level, so his initial hesitation over her seriousness was only put to rest when he caught her amused smile. "Ah, we would indeed be fortunate."

"Alas, I worry that, with how long such a tunnel would be, it would be closed off for minor incidents more than it would be open."

She spoke as if that was the issue, not with mining through such a vast mountain. After a moment, he conceded that, for her, it likely was as she had said.

"Still, as long as the surveyors believe it feasible, I would continue the canal. Goods readily flow up and down that southern road." Pausing, she loosely gestured to the side. "There are related matters too."

"Matters such as?" he asked, quieter.

Her smile crooked, she sighed. "That is, of course, matters of food and fuel. As we are to divert and adjust those rivers, it behoves us to consider what irrigation may be provided. At the same time, once the canal is dug out, it becomes trivial to float wood downstream, so I would seek to establish such forests in areas unsuited for farming—and we may consider expanding the farmland into wooded areas otherwise suitable."

Although his face showed no surprise, he went to speak, only to close his mouth. After a few more seconds, he managed to find some words to say. "Those forests belonging to the King?"

"I am confident the surveyors will accurately determine such boundaries," she said, gesturing along again. "My Lord need only trust that I shall handle any… disputes which arise."

He let out an amused sigh, then quietly said, "I look forward to Ma'am's proposal."

Not the end of the discussion, but the beginning of a negotiation which promised to be much grander.

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