Visconti Duke stamped the final document he needed to handle today.

    At another time, he might have enjoyed the thought of how to relax now that his work was done, perhaps with a pleasant sense of satisfaction. But not today.

    Alfred sighed, his heart weighed down.

    “When I married off my sons, I only felt the stress a week before the wedding, and even then, it wasn''t this troubling. Now, with Erica about to leave, I don’t know why I feel so uneasy. It’s not even the real wedding yet—just the formalities for finalizing the marriage.”

    In noble families, it’s often the daughters who receive the greater affection over sons. Sons are raised harshly, trained to become heads of the household and survive in this harsh world. But daughters? They only need to fill the role of a lady of the house, so they’re not held to as strict standards.

    Strictly speaking, they don’t even need to fully manage the household. If a lady can''t handle the duties of running an estate, she can entrust it to the head steward and leave household matters to the head maid. As long as she bears children, avoids jealousy toward concubines, and dutifully attends social events, she’s fulfilling her minimum role. Of course, doing just the bare minimum might earn her a status not far from invisible within the family.

    ‘As long as our duke’s family remains well-respected, who would dare look down on Erica?’ he thought, smirking.

    After all, he had never raised Erica to be more than a pretty face that symbolized their family. Yet here he was, having all kinds of needless thoughts as the time to send her off approached.

    “Technically, as a noble, marrying off my sons was much more significant than sending Erica away. But perhaps, as her father, I can’t help but feel this way.”

    With that, the duke muttered to himself, and then he retrieved a bottle of wine from the shelf in his study.

    He poured himself a drink and started sipping alone. It was an extraordinarily expensive wine, yet all he could taste was bitterness, unable even to savor its aroma or subtle acidity.

    “I shouldn’t be the one to say this as a duke, but marriage is indeed a wretched affair for women.”

    Alfred himself had taken a wife from the Duchy of Bourgogne in the Kingdom of Lyon through an arranged marriage. Before the wedding, he had looked forward to meeting a beautiful woman. But when they finally met, her looks fell short of his expectations. Add to that her strong-willed personality and the fact that they struggled to communicate—it had been rocky from the start of their married life. He’d eventually found comfort with other women, leaving his wife to her own devices.

    “Still, that Fabio... he’ll treat his wife well, if only to avoid any trouble with me,” he mused.

    Not that he would punish his son-in-law for every marital squabble—couples were bound to have disagreements. But if he ever needed a reminder of his place, a stint in the knight’s order should set him straight and teach him the value of his wife.

    Amid these idle thoughts, he heard his daughter’s voice from outside.

    “Father, may I come in? There’s something I wish to discuss.”

    Gradually, she found herself becoming curious about Fabio, just as her father, Alfred, had when he first met him.

    “And this is a closely guarded family secret, but you’re practically the lady of the Rothschild family now, so it’s only fair you know,” he continued.

    They hadn’t yet officially married, so she couldn’t technically be called the lady of the house. But unless something drastic happened to either Fabio or Erica, this marriage was practically certain. Thus, the duke deemed it appropriate to share some Rothschild family secrets with her.

    “Fabio was the one who proposed the special steel forge our family uses. Back when he was just the second son of the Medici barony, he unexpectedly approached your grandfather and suggested a way to replicate steel with this method.”

    As a result, the Visconti family became renowned throughout the Toscana Empire—or even the entire continent of Albania—for producing the finest steel.

    “And you’re aware of the war that recently stirred the social circles—the one between the Kingdom of Granada and the Sultanate?”

    “Yes, Father.”

    “Fabio orchestrated that as well. He sold gunpowder and muskets to the governor of Nador and the western tribes of Ifriqiya, stoking the flames of war. To top it off, he framed the Kingdom of Granada as the source of the gunpowder.”

    A noble’s primary wife, as the household’s true mistress, was expected to have a keen political sense. That way, she could advise her husband on which families to align with or cut ties from.

    Her knowledge informed her that Fabio had achieved such schemes without being discovered.

    “For nobles of your age, simply obeying their parents’ orders is often seen as competent. But this man? He accomplishes feats that not even your grandfather and I could achieve.”

    Hearing this, Erica’s heart pounded. Of course, she wasn’t falling in love merely from hearing of his accomplishments and character. But if she were to marry, she’d rather be by the side of a capable man than suffer the frustrations of an incompetent one.

    ‘What kind of person must he be?’

    “Your grandfather’s first order to me after my discharge was to observe Fabio closely.”

    The duke rose from his seat and gently patted his daughter’s head.

    “I don’t know what impression you’ll have of him, but I believe I’ve found you the best match possible. Although there’s still over half a year until the wedding, meet him and judge for yourself.”

    The following day, Fabio set out, thoroughly prepared, to meet Erica.