The Nelli family had no shortage of money, that much had long been clear. In Augstadt alone, they owned shops and warehouses and rental properties, with a further web of shopkeepers and tradesmen aligned with them by marriages and favours. A vast family, indeed.

So she sat at their table.

"Truly, we have never had the honour of such a guest."

The elderly man spoke French, yet his accent bled through and, to her ears, although he sounded fluent, that was not the same as natural.

"When I heard that Signor Virgil himself would be here, of course I had to accept." She spoke warmly, a polite smile on her lips, and her hand followed her words with little gestures.

He chuckled at the head of the table. "Please, there is no need to flatter this old man."

While the room itself was large, the table had room for but a dozen and even then only now sat eight. As she sat opposite him, that left three on each side, one of which was Alonzo. She had dealt with him a few times personally, more often by mail, to organise grander matters with the Nelli family.

Of the others, one had been introduced as Virgil's second son, Enzo. Not the expected successor to the family, but who nonetheless held much sway over certain decisions and had much personal ownership of certain branches, particularly in southern France and eastern Spain.

Of the remaining four, there was Virgil's wife and Enzo's wife, with the last two places belonging to more distant relatives. That they were invited to this meal naturally meant that she knew they were not simple men either.

After all, none of them—even the wives—showed a hint of trepidation.

Her lips curled. "Pray tell, what flattery is there in the truth? While the Nelli family already had a long and storied history, it is remarkable what signore has accomplished in his lifetime," she said, a lightness to her voice as if about to laugh. "My mother had found such feats sufficiently impressive to begin writing an account."

At that last sentence, she observed the change in his expression, a warmth that became distant.

"Yes, Nicole…. I cherished her greatly. Although she was the daughter of my nephew, we noticed how special she was early. I considered her my own granddaughter. When it came time for her to marry, I insisted on finding her the finest husband. Of course, as outstanding as she was, she had no need for this old man's meddling."

He broke into a chuckle, his gaze on the candles in the middle of the table. The flickering light fell upon gold, candle holders intricately detailed, which sat upon a silk tablecloth with what certainly appeared to be a Persian design.

"In her writings, her genius is most clear. I only wish that she had left more for me. Those topics which she had considered are expounded upon with both delicacy and nuance, rather particular about that which she thought influential and that which she thought incidental, and willing to bring those thoughts to brazen conclusions. It is impressive that she achieved such brilliance through an education mere money could buy."

While her words had landed gently before, her last sentence brought a stillness to those present, and she noticed that Enzo lacked the composure of his father. A small reaction, yet one nonetheless.

"Does Signor Enzo disagree with my assessment?" she asked, tilting her head.

Although subtle, it was still noticeable that he glanced at his father first, that alone enough for his stiff expression to return to a polite smile. "No, no, it is merely my humble experience that we have a certain prestige, so to say we could only hire such tutors for her, I think it is not quite accurate."

"Very well, I suppose my mother is not so brilliant. With the tutoring I had, it is only natural I should surpass her," she said, picking up a glass of wine as she spoke. There, she paused to swirl it around a few times, bring the glass to her lips, then broke into a smile as she lowered it back down. "Is Signor Enzo satisfied now?"

He gave a thin chuckle and, as if to hide, raised his own glass to his lips, taking a deep sip.

At the head of the table, Virgil cleared his throat; Alonzo clapped his hands together and, gesturing along, he then spoke. "Princess Julia truly is an exceptional leader. While I confess I did not well know the late Countess, Ma'am has proven herself, not simply as a just ruler, but one with both ambition and ability."

Her turn to laugh, she did so with a hand over her mouth and placed down her glass. "Indeed I have," she said simply, neither pride in her voice nor did she raise her chin.

Virgil tapped the table; once more, Alonzo gave a single clap, then opened his arms as he gestured at those present. "Please, follow me in offering a toast to Princess Julia." As he spoke, those others picked up their glasses, all except for the subject of the toast. "Our cooperation these years has brought both sides much gain. I, personally, have learnt so much on matters I gave little thought to before. Our carts have brought ever more luxuries to this city, as well as bought ever more luxuries to sell abroad. We employ twice as many here as we did when Ma'am took up rulership. This truly has been a most auspicious time—for her, us, and the city."

His sweet words hung in the air, a slight echo to the room, and he spoke with such a broad smile, his eyes pinched. Meanwhile, she remained as she was, no more than a polite smile.

"To Princess Julia!" he said and raised his cup to his lips.

In a loose harmony, the others said the same, did the same, all but for the toastee. So it was that Virgil asked, "Will our honourable guest not drink with us?"

After a breath of laughter, she gestured at her glass, then at those present. "How could I toast myself as ruler? Of those present, who may I toast in good faith? These things are not simple and I would not embarrass myself even in such friendly company. Still, if I must," she said, raising her glass with those last words.

However, she did not sip. With a small gesture, she swirled the wine in the cup, such a fine glass, and gave it a sniff, only for her nose to wrinkle.

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"Let it be something weaker. It would not do for a wife to return to her husband stinking of alcohol," she said, then turned in her seat to face the steward. "Do fetch me something French, four parts water, with a drop of honey and whatever spices you think suitable."

The steward bowed, yet his gaze sought out his master; Virgil gave a slight nod.

"Very well, Ma'am," he said and, after straightening up, strode out of the room.

With that addressed, she pushed her glass away. "We have made pleasantries. Pray forgive my impatience, that my husband has only recently returned after a long period abroad, so I would insist that signore need not feign modesty. One of such standing does not simply travel without purpose unless retiring and signore is surely too energetic for that."

A stillness settled over the others while Virgil chuckled, and he gave his drink a swirl before having another sip. "Ma'am certainly has her own way of toasting others. Well, as our honourable guest, I cannot decline this request."

He paused there, his glass placed down and a deep sigh leaving him.

"Naturally, Ma'am is right to think I have reason to travel," he said, his hands coming together. "We are not blind to Ma'am's ambitions. Alonzo has gradually put together plans to establish a network all the way to the Dutch ports. Of course, with the length of the route, we would need to establish a middle point and there is nowhere more suited than here. It is my intention to personally negotiate with Ma'am for certain purchases of land and charters. With all the good faith Ma'am has shown us, we would return it, both generous in our purchasing and amenable to what goods Ma'am would want brought."

For a long moment, she said nothing. Rather, she simply stared at him, unyielding, her mouth flat and eyes ever so slightly narrowed. He stared back, smile gentle.

"I am genuinely insulted," she said, little more than a whisper. "For all you would like to pretend otherwise, you are still merchants in the end."

Enzo half-rose at her words, chair scraping and hands hitting the table with a slight thump—only to be met by Virgil's sharply said, "Sit, giovane."

His hands tightened into fists, mouth wavered.

"Sit."

That time, it was not Virgil, but her, the word spoken with neither force nor gentleness. A command issued with the expectation it would be followed. He turned to her, only to find her gaze all-too-ready to meet his own, and it was a gaze that did not take him seriously.

He could only do as she said, knew full well he had only himself to blame, if only he had followed his father's order sooner.

Once he was seated, she cleared her throat. "As I was saying," she said, still barely above a whisper, "I came here as an equal, yet you would speak business with me. Utterly pathetic. I may only consider your flattery insincere, that, truly, you think so little of me."

Her words had one target and he took them with a gentle smile. "There is no insincerity," he said, his tone calm. "The scope of this expansion is vast and my presence is sincere. This negotiation truly does require my full attention, perhaps my last and greatest endeavour before I hand over the family to the next generation."

"So you would continue to lie to my face."

A whisper, accompanied by a slight shake of her head.

"You are here because you have heard of the peace deal between Grand Duke Charles and the Venetians. Business, no, Mr Virgil does not deal with such trivial matters. Do not take me for a fool. You are afraid, so you had to bring yourself here to handle this matter. I thought it obvious that, to receive such an invitation, we would naturally discuss grander things. Instead, I am to be offered a bribe as if a child soothed by sweet treats."

Not once did she raise her voice, nor did her voice waver, that her quiet words were clear and level.

He brought his hands together, smile a touch pained. "If that is how Ma'am took this conversation, I may only apologise," he said, bowing his head. "I truly had no doubt of Ma'am. Our agreement had always been on weakening Venice's position, which has now been accomplished. Nor would I fault Ma'am for taking concessions from them. Rather, it is precisely because of Ma'am honouring past agreements that I felt this time was suitable. So this is not business to me, it is a show of faith, confident that we may continue with a more intimate relationship."

She shook her head, her hand coming up to gesture at him. "What more intimate relationship may I have with a merchant? A merchant to the end, that even a gentleman's son knows how to admit fault. Of course I am honourable. All these things you treat as compliments, they are only natural for one of my status, to specify them is to imply that I lacked them before. Shall I compliment you for having money? After all, not many commoners do. Or should I commend you for handing out alms to the poor using the very profit made off of them?"

While the others only grew tenser, he did not falter in his polite expression. "I think we are rather speaking past each other at this point. Perhaps, we should revisit this another day after collecting ourselves."

"It is rather curious to include me in that when I am both speaking directly to you and am entirely collected. Even after I have told you not to treat me a fool, you continue to do so. Have you become too comfortable with my politeness that you forget who I am? Rather, has my politeness led to you forgetting who you are?"

The steward returned at this time and, despite the atmosphere, dutifully came to the table to place the glass for her. "As Ma'am requested," he said with a bow as he stepped back.

"At least someone here understands their place," she said, her gaze sweeping across those present.

Without prompting, she picked up the drink and brought it to her lips, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. Her brow furrowed, mouth thin as she put the glass down.

"I take it back. To be served this is the greatest insult," she said, giving the glass a tap with the back of her hand; as it teetered, some spilled down the side. "I know full well that your little Enzo here has relationships in France and yet this is what is served to your most honourable guest? No, there is too much profit to be made there, so instead I am given something from Barcelona. Sincerity indeed—a merchant only knows how to appear sincere."

He let out a few chuckles. "Really, I do not know where this is all coming from. With how good our relationship has been, I simply sought to pay my respects in person and, perhaps, reminisce about your mother."

At that, she slammed the table with a thump, sudden enough that his wife jumped and the glasses rattled. "Over and over, I tell you not to treat me a fool and now you would even play the fool. You are fooling no one. Let me be very explicit then so that you do not dare make the same mistake with me again: When I treat you as an equal, it is a great honour; when you treat me as an equal, it is a grave insult.

"As for my mother, she has already told me everything I need to know about her in her works. Whatever you tell me is slander. Not once have I ever been curious to know what the Nelli family remembers of her, which is self-evident by the fact I have never asked. Still, I was polite, yet you ignored that."

She punctuated her statement by rising to her feet.

"I thought well of you, but I see now it was Alonzo all along. With how your giovane is, it is becoming apparent that the strength of the Nelli family is not in its trunk, but its leaves. You are fortunate I do not care for business, so there will be no consequences for this evening. However, that I do not care for business, remember well that I do not care for you. You have proven yourself incapable of grander things, a merchant and nothing more."

With her piece said, she turned once more to the steward and, without a word, he bowed, then began to lead her out. Whatever words followed her landed on deaf ears.

Soon enough, she entered her carriage; it lurched into motion without delay. Her maid, having waited here, moved to her side and offered a handkerchief. She wiped her lips, then accepted a flask, careful in her sip, which she then spat into a bucket. For the following while, she gradually drank until the flask was empty.

As if waiting for that, a horse then joined the carriage on the road; she gestured to the curtain. Her maid dutifully drew it open. In the summer evening's light, her husband rode beside her carriage, only to then break away at her nod.

It would be a long night for the city.

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