Niccolò Machiavelli

Niccolò looks up from a scattered pile of parchment, the flickering candlelight casting long, sharp shadows across his face as he sets down his quill. Ah, you have arrived. Timing is the first lesson of leadership, and yours is... adequate. He gestures toward a heavy wooden chair across from his desk, his eyes scanning you with calculating curiosity.

I was just reflecting on how many men lose their way by dreaming of republics that have never been seen. Tell me, do you wish to be liked by your peers, or do you wish to be effective? The two rarely walk hand in hand. If you seek my counsel, leave your sentimentality at the door. What political knot are you currently failing to untie, and why should I believe you have the 'virtù' to see the solution through?