Charles VI kept his promise surprisingly quickly.
I was now allowed regular snack times with Theresa after Wednesday lunches, in addition to Sunday Mass.
Of course, there was no need to explain that these were simple tutoring sessions disguised as snack times.
"How about we sit here and chat? Franz-nim, this spot seems much more comfortable."
Theresa smiled and spread her palm wide, gesturing toward the chairs. Her arms were still short and her frame small, so no matter how hard she tried to look elegant, she just came off as adorable. Yet she seemed utterly pleased with herself.
A maid brought over a small desk for reading, along with some documents, and placed it nearby. Theresa sat on the edge of her chair, her face beaming with excitement.
"You said you'd tell me fun stories starting today, right, Franz-nim? I'm so curious what they'll be about!"
At her words, the servants took it as their cue and filed out of the room.
Still, they couldn't leave us completely alone, so one maid sat at a distance, her back turned to us.
It was a sensible precaution, given there was a nonzero chance I might spout nonsense to Theresa.
"Since it's our first time, shall we start with something simple?"
We only met once a week for about two hours of chit-chat. How much could I really teach in that?
Charles VI knew it was impossible from the start, which was why he'd granted my request without hesitation.
Considering her age, teaching complex subjects or formulas was out of the question anyway.
So, my top priority was instilling her with basic knowledge and concepts.
Especially in politics, diplomacy, and economics.
Mastering the fundamentals in those three fields would put her leagues ahead of her past life, when she'd started from a blank slate.
But this wasn't formal schooling, so going too rigid would backfire.
For now, the focus was purely on sparking her interest.
I sat in the spot she'd prepared and placed a gold coin from my pocket on the desk.
"Theresa-nim, this is a gulden gold coin. You've seen them before, of course?"
"Of course! We buy clothes and necklaces with these, and coffee or chocolate too. I've heard there's silver coins as well, but gold ones are way more expensive."
"Wow, you know your stuff."
Even as I praised her, Theresa casually laid her hands neatly on the desk, feigning composure.
But her feet were happily kicking under the chair... I decided to pretend not to notice.
"Then, have you ever wondered why gold coins are so valuable?"
"Um... because they're pretty?"
"That could be one reason, but there's a more fundamental one. It's because..."
"Ah! Hold on. Let me guess. I think I know!"
She urgently raised her hand to stop me, then pressed her temples with two fingers for a moment.
"Hmm... because it's... hard to get?"
"Exactly! You're sharp as ever, Theresa-nim. Gold is rare, just like you said. If it were lying around like rocks outside, it wouldn't be so precious, right?"
"Right, right? I knew it!"
"And the beauty part is true too, in a way. Gold doesn't rust or tarnish, symbolizing eternity. Plus, it's gorgeous, so nobles and the wealthy can't get enough of it. Rare and in high demand—that's why it's pricey."
"Ah, got it. So even if it's hard to obtain, if no one wanted it, it wouldn't be valuable?"
"Impressive. No need for further explanation."
She'd caught the earlier hint and turned it into real understanding.
I wasn't just biased; her instincts were genuinely sharp.
She'd been overshadowed by that potato overlord of the era, but Theresa truly had the makings of an empress.
With proper systematic education from childhood, she might have rivaled even Frederick.
Though she'd never match that monster in military matters—it was limited to governance.
Grinning triumphantly at my surprise, Theresa suddenly clapped her hands as if struck by genius.
"Franz-nim! I just had an amazing idea! Gold coins are valuable because of the gold, right? So if we use less gold in each gulden, we could make way more coins! Problem solved!"
She lowered her voice conspiratorially, glancing around to ensure no one else heard her brilliant scheme.
Her body even tilted toward the edge of the chair—she was clearly thrilled.
I nearly burst out laughing, but it was a commendable thought, so I nodded seriously.
"Very perceptive. In fact, several rulers have tried exactly that. Know England? About two hundred years ago, their king reduced the metal content in gold and silver coins. But reality isn't so simple."
"Why not? It's still a gold coin, even with less gold, right?"
"Hmm... how to explain this."
I'd only meant to lightly discuss coins, not dive into Gresham's Law.
"Let me use an example. Suppose you have hot chocolate—your favorite."
"...I prefer coffee, but okay."
"Now, imagine there are two kinds: really delicious hot chocolate and slightly less tasty hot chocolate. Guests visit regularly, and you have to serve them. Which would you save?"
"The delicious one, obviously. I'd save it for when I really crave it."
"Precisely. It's the same with gold coins. People hoard the high-gold ones and spend the low-gold ones when buying things. Soon enough, only the bad coins flood the market."
I deliberately skipped names like Henry VIII or Gresham.
She wouldn't remember them anyway, and the goal was just to give her the gist.
"I see... Money is such a complicated thing."
"Yes. That's why monetary issues demand utmost caution. Shall we have our snack now and continue chatting?"
"Yes~!"
Theresa beamed, her legs kicking happily before she hastily schooled her expression with a cough.
I spent the remaining time chatting with this young archduchess who yearned to be a proper lady.
She surprisingly enjoyed it, peppering her cookie-munching with more questions about gold coins.
Good. Money is important, after all.
It was reassuring that she was grasping it naturally, without me spelling it out.
In my past life, the vast fortune I'd amassed had allowed the Habsburg court to build an independent financial system, free from state budgets.
The problem was, even with all that wealth, we couldn't achieve everything we wanted.
So, what to do this time?
I already knew the answer.
Make far more money than before.
That was my starting point.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The truth that money matters has held since ancient Rome, unchanging to this day.
But after Christian order took root, Christians faced restrictions on usury and moneylending.
Nobles loved money but openly chasing it hurt their prestige—a contradiction they needed to resolve.
As economies grew more complex over time, finance and trade demanded ever-greater expertise.
This trend intensified with the Renaissance.
Rulers naturally sought proxies to handle their finances, and perfect candidates emerged.
Jews. Masters of European finance and trade, convenient tools to use and discard without backlash.
The most exceptional ones naturally intertwined with nobles, lending money or aiding trade.
The truly outstanding expanded to royal courts.
These were dubbed court Jews, invaluable to places like Austria, Prussia, Poland, and more.
However...
"Sigh... No matter our loyalty, we're just livestock to them, good only for bringing in cash."
Even if they brought immense profits, treatment of court Jews stopped there.
As Jews by birth, there was a line they could never cross.
"Father played the part so well while alive, but not even a year later..."
Samson Wertheimer, the legendary billionaire and court Jew of the Holy Roman Empire.
His son, Wolf Wertheimer, was painfully learning just how cold the court could be.
In Samson's day, the Wertheimers wielded immense influence.
They owned countless mansions, guarded by imperial soldiers.
Foreign Jews couldn't even stay in Vienna without Wertheimer permission—a real power base.
But last year, with his father's death, everything changed.
Court Jew positions weren't automatically hereditary.
Father's role went to his blood-unrelated brother, Isaac Oppenheimer.
The Wertheimers' vast privileges shrank overnight, and father's businesses now had to be shared with Oppenheimer.
They still held enormous wealth, but could he preserve it all in his generation?
Reality meant hoping not to lose what they had, let alone expand.
"Sir, a message from the palace."
Lost in thought, he snapped to at the servant's voice.
"The palace? Who wants a loan now?"
"His Highness Franz of Lorraine requests you. He'd like to meet today if possible."
"Is the soon-to-be duke frittering away on luxuries?"
Young nobles usually sought him for one of two reasons.
Lend me cash in a pinch.
Or show off for the family—got any hot investment tips?
Either way, it was a sigh-worthy errand, but Wolf grumbled while preparing to head out faster than anyone.
Any Jew handling money in Vienna knew influential nobles inside out—it was common sense.
This included future power players.
Franz of Lorraine was the top candidate for Habsburg son-in-law.
Even without the Theresa betrothal, he'd surely become Duke of Lorraine.
No harm in getting acquainted.
Wolf dressed swiftly and headed to the meeting spot.
"A pleasure to meet you. Wolf Wertheimer."
"Sorry for the sudden summons. Have a seat."
Franz of Lorraine looked a bit different from expectations.
Considering his status, he could afford arrogance toward a mere court Jew, yet he was remarkably courteous.
Or was he just buttering him up ahead of a massive loan request?
"I've long heard of Your Highness's renown and hoped to meet. This honor is overwhelming."
"I haven't earned such fame yet. Your network clearly spans Vienna thoroughly."
"Nonsense! Everyone at court knows Your Highness. Such humility!"
"It's just the circumstances making my name spread."
He didn't seem the type to bask in flattery.
No signs of extravagance or greed in his possessions either. So why summon him?
As confusion mounted, Franz cut to the chase.
"You're busy, so I'll be direct. I'd like to partner on some business going forward."
"Ah... business?"
This pattern again.
Not unheard of, though rare.
They approach with "let's do business, make money together," toss a vague idea, then sit back doing nothing while demanding their cut.
Most proposals were worthless anyway.
"It won't be a bad deal for you, Wertheimer. Not a one-off—I'm talking long-term partnership."
"I see..."
"You think: 'This kid's shamelessly clinging, planning to bleed me dry long-term'?"
"N-no, such irreverent thoughts..."
"Hear my idea first, then give your thoughts. If it's too much, I'll find another partner."
Franz pulled out a sheet of paper and set it on the table.
A quick glance showed a world map, with a route drawn and dense notes scribbled along it.
"Is this line a trade route?"
"Yes. Good eye."
"Dyes from the New World into Trieste free port, shipped straight to the Ottomans, some via Venetian brokers across Europe... This is..."
"Exactly. Proper smuggling."
Stunned by the unthinkable word, Wolf blankly looked up at Franz.
'What? This guy? Is he serious?'
Reining in the rising turmoil, Wolf began coldly analyzing the map before him.
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