The tolling of the church bells cut through the clamor of the Diet. The gathered princes, cherishing this mid-session reprieve, vacated the crowded and stifling hall immediately after the presiding officer announced the recess.
Despite the unbearable red tape, none were willing to forfeit their right to participate in Imperial affairs—it was the most direct affirmation of their rank and status.
The Third Estate, which had been holding a large assembly in another nearby church, also dispersed. Beyond merely debating the resolutions put forth by the Upper Houses, they had secured the right to submit petitions to the Emperor. However, to date, only a handful of resolutions from the Third Estate—scarcely enough to count on one hand—had actually been passed.
Furthermore, as the Imperial Diet system became more refined, the voice of the Third Estate was gradually marginalized.
The dozen or so Imperial Circles, combined with the Northern Italian Diet, now encompassed nearly the entire Empire. With the integration and solidification of previously outlying regions like Bohemia, Burgundy, and Switzerland, the Empire's dual-track system had formally taken shape. From Imperial Counts and abbots up to the Electors and the Emperor himself, all were now woven into the fabric of the Imperial Diet.
Because the knightly circles of Swabia, Rhineland, and Franconia refused to fulfill the Imperial obligations imposed by the Diet, the Emperor shifted tactics. He strengthened his feudal contracts with them instead, fixing their military obligations directly to his person. Consequently, the knightly representatives of the Third Estate lost their right to speak in the Diet; they did not recognize its authority anyway, preferring to follow the Emperor according to ancient tradition.
Eventually, the Knightly Leagues stopped sending representatives altogether. Along with other unrecorded micro-estates drifting on the fringes, they became Imperial territories outside the jurisdiction of the Diet. This group consisted mainly of Imperial Knights, autonomous Imperial villages, and "no-man's-land" territories like Dithmarschen had once been. (Though after the Danish invasion, Dithmarschen requested entry into the *Register of Imperial Estates* and obtained a seat in the Third Estate).
Of course, these seats were largely symbolic—ornamental observer status designed by Laszlo to give the lower Imperial ranks a lingering sense of participation. In reality, the fate of the Empire was decided by the Emperor, the Seven Electors, and a few dozen prominent princes.
***
**The Emperor's Residence**
Leaving the tedious and frantic meetings behind, Laszlo returned to his quarters. He had barely sat down when a visitor was announced.
Laszlo was about to decline when he spotted a familiar flash of crimson. It was a representative from the Holy See—none other than his old friend, Cardinal Francesco.
Laszlo found it slightly odd, as the Holy See had already dispatched an Imperial Nuncio to attend this session—a Cardinal who would eventually sign every Imperial resolution on behalf of the Papacy to bolster its legal validity. What, then, was Francesco doing here?
Before Laszlo could voice the question, his gaze was drawn to a young man in clerical robes standing behind Francesco. If it had been anyone else, Laszlo might not have reacted so strongly, but this man's aura of administrative competence was striking, immediately piquing the Emperor's eye for talent.
"A pleasure to see you, dear Francesco."
Laszlo offered a beaming greeting. With Rome currently filled with his supporters, bad news was a rarity, and he appeared quite relaxed.
Francesco returned the smile and bowed. "Your Majesty, I hope I am not intruding upon your rest."
"Not at all. You wouldn't have come all this way from Rome unless there were urgent matters to discuss. But before we get to that, could you introduce the young man behind you?"
"Ah, I almost forgot. This is Luca Pacioli. He is a Tuscan who spent six years in Venice serving as a tutor to a merchant's family. Later, he went to Rome to seek the patronage of the Papal Secretary, Alberti. Alberti was so stunned by his talent that he took him on as an apprentice. Unfortunately, Alberti passed away shortly thereafter. On his deathbed, hearing I was to see you, he entrusted this young man to me, certain that you would value his brilliance."
"If the master architect who helped me redesign the Milanese ducal residence said so, then this... Mr. Pacioli must indeed be extraordinary. Tell me, what is your area of expertise?"
Laszlo's tone was so gentle that even Francesco looked on with surprise. He had rarely seen the Emperor treat a stranger with such immediate warmth—though perhaps this was exactly how the Emperor managed to unearth so many gems to serve as his advisors.
Laszlo's attitude was simple: it wasn't just his intuition, but the weight of Alberti's recommendation. Who was Alberti? The author of the famous *De re aedificatoria* (Ten Books on Architecture) and a man who had designed numerous projects in Milan. He was also a close friend of the Florentine academic giant, Toscanelli.
One of Toscanelli's students, Regiomontanus, was currently serving as a court tutor in Laszlo's palace. Regiomontanus was also the head of the mathematics and astronomy departments at the University of Vienna and its most popular professor. Before the name of Da Vinci began to rise, these men dominated the Florentine academic scene. Their fields—mathematics, astronomy, architecture, cartography, surveying, urban planning, sculpture, painting, and even cryptography—were the cutting-edge "new things" of the era.
Because Laszlo valued these intellectuals, he regularly sent agents to Italy to scout for talent. While traditional Florentine elites like Toscanelli resisted serving the Emperor due to the disaster caused when the Imperial army sacked Florence, many of their students lacked such scruples. Many had accepted invitations to teach at universities under the Emperor's rule. Over time, the Emperor's reputation for being "thirsty for talent" had spread, which was likely why Alberti had sent Pacioli his way.
Meeting the Emperor for the first time, young Pacioli was flushed with excitement. At the Emperor's prompting, he quickly handed over a manuscript.
"Your Majesty, I... my research is primarily in mathematics. However, during my years in Venice, I gained an understanding of accounting, specifically the Venetian *double-entry bookkeeping* system. This manuscript contains my personal understanding of this ingenious method. I believe mathematicians should strive to establish a scientific system for bookkeeping; only then can effective economic growth be guaranteed. Perhaps this might be of some use in your court's financial affairs."
Laszlo listened, impressed by the sophistication of the concept. Double-entry bookkeeping—he knew of it, of course. The auditors of the Austrian Court Finance Committee and the accountants of the Imperial Bank were required to master at least the basics of the method as a condition of their employment. This system, pioneered and popularized by the Venetians, made complex financial operations possible and simplified fiscal management. In Hungary, the introduction of Italian accountants had significantly standardized the counting and calculation of taxes, saving the regency cabinet a fortune in fiscal leakages.
He began flipping through the neatly written manuscript with curiosity and was quickly stunned. The young man had essentially written a manual. It began by explaining the principles of double-entry bookkeeping from a mathematical and economic perspective, then demonstrated the utility of the technique through practical examples. With a bit more detail, it could serve as a textbook for training professional auditors with a mathematical background.
Laszlo's gaze toward Pacioli shifted subtly. "Mr. Pacioli, do you speak the German tongue?"
"A little, Your Majesty." Since they had been speaking in Latin, the sudden question confused Pacioli.
"Then you must learn more. You should learn to read and write it well enough to translate your works."
"You mean..."
"Welcome to the Imperial Board of Consultants." Laszlo gathered the manuscript and handed it back to the young man, who was still trembling slightly with awe.
Pacioli froze for a moment, then hurriedly thanked the Emperor with joy, not forgetting to bow deeply to Francesco.
After instructing an attendant to see Pacioli settled, Laszlo and Francesco sat down to a simple lunch and moved to the truly important business.
"Francesco, I always find pleasure in your company. Now, tell me why you are here. What news from the Pope?"
Francesco took a leisurely sip of Burgundian wine and spoke slowly. "I wonder if Your Majesty recalls Queen Charlotte of Cyprus, who once begged for your aid?"
"Charlotte? Didn't she flee to the Knights Hospitaller?"
Laszlo had not forgotten her, nor her husband Luigi. Luigi, that poor wretch, had been lured by Louis XI during the Imperial-French war and "unfortunately" died in battle when the Imperial army stormed Chambéry. The resilient Queen of Cyprus had become a widow at a young age and was now trying to reclaim her kingdom in the East alone.
"She did receive some support from the Hospitallers, but it wasn't enough to retake Cyprus. Later, she went to Cairo."
"Ahem—where did you say? Cairo?" Laszlo choked on his drink, though he quickly remembered receiving intelligence on this matter.
"The Mamluk Sultan has been driven to distraction by Uzun Hasan, but he hasn't abandoned his ambition to control Cyprus. He lent a small force to help the Queen—who is now colluding with heathens—retake her island."
Francesco seemed ready to condemn Queen Charlotte from a moral high ground, though he omitted a key detail: the Genoese were involved too. Late last year, Catherine, the daughter of a Venetian senator, had married King James II of Cyprus according to an earlier betrothal. They promptly expelled the Genoese from Famagusta, bringing all of Cyprus under Venetian influence.
The disgruntled Genoese immediately provided support to Charlotte as agreed. They not only transported her personal guards and Mamluk mercenaries to Cyprus but also provided Genoese crossbowmen.
Francesco continued the tale. In the ensuing skirmish, James II routed the guerrilla rebels, but he was struck by an arrow and perished, leaving his newly pregnant Queen Catherine as regent. The Venetians moved troops from Crete to stabilize the situation. Shortly after they left, Charlotte sparked a coup against Catherine with the help of internal collaborators. Although Catherine was forced to flee to a coastal fortress, she fortunately did not fall into rebel hands. The Venetian fleet, not having traveled far, received word and turned back immediately to crush Charlotte's forces. Ultimately, Charlotte fled back to Rome on a Genoese ship with only a few confidants, and Cyprus was taken over entirely by the Venetians.
"So after two or three years of circling, it all ends where it started? No, it's not even the starting point—the Venetians have total control of Cyprus. That means..."
The Genoese had lost everything.
Laszlo analyzed the dispute like a spectator watching a farce. It was quite amusing, particularly the part where the two women were fighting. Those Genoese and Venetian merchants certainly knew how to play the game—hiding backstage and pushing two women out to fight to the death.
"But if she's back in Rome, what does this have to do with me?"
"It is like this: the Venetian rule over Cyprus has no actual legal basis. After all, Queen Catherine, whom they rely upon, is merely the widow of a bastard king."
"And Charlotte colluded with the Muslims of Egypt!" Laszlo couldn't help but interject.
"True. Afterward, Charlotte confessed her sins to the Holy See, but the Holy Father has determined she is no longer fit to be the monarch of a Crusader kingdom."
"Then Cyprus has no legitimate king?" Laszlo was puzzled.
"The Genoese have made a proposal. Both Queen Charlotte and the Holy See find it very interesting." Francesco gave a mysterious smile, giving Laszlo a sudden premonition. "Charlotte wishes to receive a plot of land under your rule sufficient for her residence, to become your protected vassal, and to receive an annual pension of two thousand Florins—a cost the Genoese are willing to bear. In exchange, she will present you with the Crown of Cyprus."
"So that's where they were waiting for me," Laszlo laughed helplessly, unmoved. "What are the Genoese's conditions?"
"They want their free port of Famagusta back. It was their most vital warehouse and harbor in the Levant."
"Fine. And the Venetians?"
"You can negotiate with them. Order them to hand over Cyprus, or lease the island back to them. The Venetian merchants will pay dearly for the sugar and cotton of Cyprus."
"It's a good deal. But what does the Holy See get out of this?" Laszlo looked meaningfully at the Cardinal sitting opposite him.
Francesco didn't show the slightest unease. He smiled back. "Your trust and friendship."
"Then it is settled. Give the Pope my thanks. And while you're at it, ask him when he plans to convene the Ecumenical Council to restart the reform of the Church."
"Majesty, that..." Only now did Francesco look troubled. He hadn't expected the Emperor's "face-swapping" to be so seamless.
"Some things cannot be solved by evasion. Bernhard's replies to me are full of platitudes. That will not do."
"I shall remind the Holy Father for you."
The precious mid-session break ended. Laszlo took Francesco along to participate in the afternoon's Imperial Diet. A few days later, the Cardinal from afar boarded his carriage once more for the journey back to Rome.