Wealth of Nations – Adam Smith
Hitchcock looked around the room. It was a pleasant room, although a simple one. The floor was tiled in slate, the walls plastered in a warm creamy white. The desk before him was a rich brown wood, glossily waxed; the lamp that sat upon it was unlit, unwanted in the warm, strong sunlight that poured through the open, unglassed windows. He felt as dull and incurious as though he were waking from a deep sleep. The room was quiet save for a distant sound of voices and a sighing of wind at the window.
The man across the desk – it was obviously his desk because his chair fitted underneath it and the window was at his back – was busily stuying a packet of papers, so there wasn’t any need to do anything at the moment, Hitchcock thought. He looked over to his right and recognized John and Sue despite the odd clothes they wore: colorful linen shirts with an over-tunic of embroidered fabric that buttoned up the front, loose trousers and soft shoes. Each had a wide-brimmed black hat with a tall, bell-like crown in hand. He spared a glance at his own arms and saw he was dressed much the same.
“Oho, General!” The man behind the desk rose and clutched a paper in one hand, a monocle in the other. “This is very interesting. Very interesting indeed! I believe I should fetch the Master. If you will excuse me? Yes. I will have servants see to your men and to yourself. Oh, my yes. I’ll only be a moment!” He hurried around the desk and out the door, closing it carefully behind him.
“I feel like I’m asleep and trying to wake up,” Hitchcock said, and the other two nodded. “I’ve not the faintest idea what’s going on here, save we brought some good news. That and they think Sue’s a man and we’d best not disabuse them.”
John nodded slowly. “We’ve been in Croatia… in Zagreb,” he said, voice more strong and sure with each word. “A diplomatic mission.” Hitchcock felt the cotton wool that muffled his thoughts beginning to thin. “Yes. Um, Drascovic – the Drascovic family – that’s who we spoke to, I’m sure.”
The memories were dim, more like a memory of a historical text read long ago. The facts were there, but no images or clear details. He could remember his life outside this place much more clearly, but the sharp immediacy of his present surroundings told him this might be an illusion but was no dream. He looked at the dustmotes dancing in the sunlight, reached out a hand and rapped softly on the solid desktop. This was Virtual Reality – had to be – but it was real to every sense and muscle, in every way that mattered.
A sound in the corridor of hurrying feet brought them all up sharp. “Let’s not let them split us up before we get our story straight,” Hitchcock said. Before any other words could be spoken, the door opened and two men stepped in – one, their former host and the other a stranger. Hitchcock rose automatically to his feet and the others followed his lead: the stranger had the strong presence of one well used to command.
“General Heinrich is recently returned from Croatia, Count, as I’m sure you’ve heard. General, you know Warmaster Count Vlad, I’m sure. Warmaster, have you met General Heinrich?”
Vlad smiled and clasped forearms with Hitchcock. “We served together before Vienna in the last war, Heinrich, and I remember you well though it was twenty years ago. You’ve been abroad for some years now, and I understand you’ve done some valuable work. Let us make ourselves comfortable and we can share news with each other. Good Marin, refreshements please for the General and his men!”
Marin – yes, that was his name, of course it was – chirped something about lazy servants and pattered back into the hall. At a motion from the Warmaster, they began moving chairs around a low table, leaving the desk isolated against the wall. Hitchcock took the moment to study Vlad, covertly. He was older now that he had been when Hitchcock was on the other side of the game – fully mature, tall and rail-thin with hair going gray and faint wrinkles traced in his face.
“The new port is finished, Heinrich. Have you seen it? No? Ah, you must! We used the labor of four legions, cleared away all the tumbledown and rubble of the old Empire. It is a marvel, and becoming quite popular with merchants from overseas! My own traders are staying more to home these days, too. Warehouse space is already tight and the city markets are busier than they’ve ever been. Most of the new trade has come here from Genoa and Venice, so the Italians are furious… Excellent engineering practice for the troops and officers, I must say. We rotated through as many as we could, to try to spread the experience around.”
Servitors bustled in with silver trays of food, followed by a scribe who took up station at the desk. Hitchcock didn’t recognize anything except a small pastry that looked like baklava, but he took a sampling of the selection: something wrapped in a leaf – a grape leaf – and a tiny meat-filled pastry that was searingly hot. Fortunately there was ale, and wine, and tea with mint.
“The Emperor is well, and so is the rest of the royal family. Prince Mihnea is in the Academy now, just reported last year – sprouted up like a weed, that boy. He’s already taller than his father. We’re restructuring the legions again, have you heard? Oh, we finally got the armory turning out respectable numbers of firearms. We tried the Austrian formation – you know, all those pikes in a block with guns at the corners? But it doesn’t suit – too hard to maneuver. We’re intending to set a 2-to-1 ratio of pike to shot, starting with the army in Hungary, and Count Aron of the Melissinos is writing up a drill manual. Developed a decent cannon, too; casting those up in Bulgaria.” He leaned forward slightly, face intent. “But please… Marin tells me you have great news… let me hear it from you!”
Unconsciously Hitch let his voice settle into the smooth cadence of an officer delivering a briefing. “Sir. We departed for the west on instructions from the Chancellor…” Vlad waved an acknowledgement. “Yes. He’s not able to attend this afternoon, but I promise you he will receive your report. Doubtless you’ll be asked to speak to him separately, and possibly his Majesty if his time permits… do go on.”
The scribe at the desk had paused until Hitchcock began to speak again. “We traveled first to Venice, and spoke there with the banker who acts as liason for the Duke of Bavaria. I must report we were given to understand there would be no interest in an alliance from that quarter, and the Doge’s men were frankly testy. We journeyed on then to Zagreb. The Croats – well, the Draskovic family more or less rules there, sir. They take turns passing it around, so to speak – but as it were, the Croats had just let their alliance with Spain and Naples lapse, and they were delighted to see us. We’ve treated the Serbs well, and the Drascovics know that, and a treaty with us and the Serbs would calm down that border. Anyway, as months went on with never a messenger from Spain or Naples, the Drascovics got more and more nervous… I was at my wits end of what to say so I decided to try plain old fiscal persuasion. I sent my man down to Venice and paid off old Grigori Draskovic’s gambling debts. And what do you know! They signed on to the alliance!”
Vlad settled back, sipped from his cup and exhaled a long, slow breath. “That complicates our border with Austria a bit, but it gains us another army and a potential vassal to equal Serbia. Well done, Heinrich! Well done, indeed! We may need that ally, and soon. Austria has made no secret of her intent to wrest Hungary from us, and the reports from the frontier are disquieting. I’ll suggest to the Chancellor that we send an ambassador for a permanent presence, perhaps open the question of a marriage.”
“Oh, but that’s not the half of it, sir.” Hitch took a long, appreciative drink. Even if his taste buds weren’t working quite right, it was fine ale. His mind had cleared and he knew just what his lines should be. “You say the Austrians have set their cap for us, and that’s true – they hate us and make no secret of it. But all their plans have gone awry and there’s no mistaking it. They put great store by their alliance with the Pope in Rome, sir, as well you know. And the Pope has decided he doesn’t want Austria to go campaigning in Hungary; he wants some help in Italy instead. So the Pope declared war on Siena this past month and dragged Austria and Genoa along, cursing and kicking. But Siena has some friends too, you see, and they have called on Naples. And then Naples called on Spain… So you see sir, I think it will be some years before the Austrians can spare a glance for us!”
Vlad sat back in his chair and rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “One of my captains came in from Spain last week and said the crown had begun making preparations for war but he didn’t know who the enemy would be. Sounds like Spain and Naples asked Croatia to stand with them against Austria and the Drascovics held out for more money… and found no-one would pay them and had to come to us.” He shook his head. “We could make use of this if we could be certain it was so. Is there any proof, or only rumor?”
Hitchcock motioned to the secretary. “There is a proclamation from the Pope, printed up in Latin, German and Italian, in that packet. It’s on thick paper, has a printed copy of the seal… yes, that’s the one.” The scribe handed the printed sheet to Vlad, who studied it carefully.
“Yes,” he said at last. “Gregory always was in good favor with the Spanish King. Must have thought he could snap up Siena without a war. Seems the old dragon miscalculated, on that at least.”
“Dragon!” Hitchcock blurted.
“Why, yes.” Vlad turned the paper around to didplay the woodcut of the Papal coat of arms. “He got his nickname when he was a Cardinal – the Dragon, they call him.”
“Saved by the Dragon,” Hitchcock said, slowly.
“Oh, I doubt he meant to do us a good turn, save by doing himself a better one. This Pope has no love for Protestants or Heretics and he considers us both. But he has done us a good turn, right enough… His Majesty has long wanted a free hand to settle with the Turks. The old Chancellor, Delos, was carrying on a correspondence with the Vatican for years, suggesting some sort of joint action. The Popes have always declined… I wonder if this is a tacit approval?”
Hitchcock sensed it was a rhetorical question and said nothing.
“Well! This will certainly start things moving! You’ll be at your villa if we need you? I suspect there will be a busy time ahead of us, yes. Thank you General – thank you twice over, for our new alliance and for this glorious news! His Majesty will be
most pleased!”
