Chapter 3: Return

It had taken around two weeks to reach his home from Sarponne, though they spent most of the days going through the smaller roads in the countryside to go home. And just bordering the river and mountains of the country, he put his hands on it.

It was on the edge, closer to leaving their tiny duchy and neighbouring the Republic of Ganeo, and bordering all the mountains. This was where Lorenzo spent his early childhood, playing as his father showed him the ways of the world. And, of course, what he needed to learn in the future.

“I didn’t know that you bordered this close to the sea, since I always knew Paserta for its mountains. But here, you’re truly closer to the sea.” Placido told him, as he looked. Just a little further, they could feel the sea. In fact, they had much more trade from the nearby coastal republic than they did from their duchy.

It surprised Placido when they first passed the mountains to go west instead of south, even more once they stopped just before the mountains.

Placido and Lorenzo got down from the carriage, mostly eager to stroll their way inside. They were now at the gates as he waited.

As the gates open, all the footmen gladly welcoming him back home.

“It is always what they think, but I wasn’t.” He gave a smile. It’s the strong association, although to the north they bordered a river and the mountains came in the south.

“It’s quite far out, but I can make my way home. It’s certainly closer than Sarponne. I wished it was in the mountains.” He let out a sigh.

“So that at least the worst of your journey is done?” He gave a laugh but knew why. It was rocky, always an uneven road. He couldn’t fault a traveler for wanting an easier path.

“Yes.” Placido nodded, though he already knew.

“You could cross into Ganeo and take the sea route.” Lorenzo suggested. “That’s what we usually did if we wanted to go south instead.”

Placido raised his eyebrow, perhaps somewhat unwilling to consider.

“I have family in Ganeo, so it helps.” It was one of the two maritime republics in Itoro, the other being Nexia. Neither of them were nearly as powerful as they had been centuries ago, but they could exist and continued to do so.

“Well, I don’t really like ships much.”

“I like it more than horses,” she said.

Placido looked at him. “You’re definitely strange since you ride in so many carriages.”

“Well, there is also one more thing. I’m never in them. I’m bad at horse-riding.” Lorenzo admitted with a sheepish smile.

“But I’ll like to stay for a few days more than my original journey. I hope I’m not a bother.”

“You’re welcome to do so.” Lorenzo knew they would welcome him if they knew he was a friend, second for also the short notice he had been given. “It’s been a long journey. They’ll understand why you’ll want to remain for a while before taking the second part of the journey home. I can also travel with you to Paserta too, though it will be a few days.”

They had stopped by, but did not have anytime to look.

“Alright, maybe it’s a good idea.” He gave a smile. “Also, when you come to my hometown, I’ll show you around too, as well as Rovirna. It is less out of the way than going to Paserta from Stressa.”

The villa was the seat of power for their family for centuries, though they were lords first, then barons and finally Marquisates recently when the new Dukes took over. He led his friend through the courtyard.

Lorenzo didn’t have the chance before his eight-year-old brother, Federico, found him, embracing him instantly, and then looking up curiously.

“Couldn’t wait for me to come back?” He lowered his back so that he could meet his eye.

“Yes, I heard you were returning soon, in your most recent letter. You were just a day away, and then I heard they saw your carriage and so I came..”

“Just come with us,” Placido said with a smile.

Though, a maid came intending to fetch Federico back.

“I’ll take the padroncino back, so you don’t need to worry, signore.” The maid offered.

He dismissed her. “You can follow me too, to the hall.”

“How did you find Sarponne?” Federico asked, with countless questions on his mind.

“It was quite a trip, many thinkers. It’s not a wonder why they call it to see. And it’s an experience, maybe once you’re older it’s for you to experience too.”

He had truly seen a lot while he was there, more than satisfied for him to make a move forward.

“Were you planning to do anything before Papa called you home?” He asked.

“No, but I was planning to move to a further country. But since Papa called me home, here I am.”

“I’m glad, because I missed you.” He told him too.

Lorenzo liked to read to him, and to teach him sometimes.

“So does Cecelia, she really hopes to catch a glimpse of you before her sixteenth birthday.”

“That’s quite a ways away.” She was only fifteenth now, it was months away.

“You’ve been away for months, Lorenzo. We spent seven months on the road. It isn’t hard to imagine why,” Placido said.

“You’re quite right.”

He would learn more if he could talk to her. They had reached the grand hall, with the entire household all welcoming back. For he was their future Marchese instead of anywhere else.

The center was his father, Cosimo, with his gray wig, over his brown hair, a standard for him, dressed in a coat, with breeches. He had a large tricorne hat, from the days he had been a soldier. He was a stern figure, Lorenzo often found it difficult to meet his gaze, his steely blue eyes.

His mother, Beatrice, her rather light face, wrinkles all over. As she held her hand together. Her gown was a light brown, laced with gold, her black hair. He had favoured her in his hair and eyes. Her eyes were earthy and brown, and often quite warm.

Federico had went to his mother, holding her hand slightly, as Cosimo ruffled his hair before he took his place behind them as they looked. Next to Cosimo, had been his sister, Cecelia, with blue eyes, thick eyelashes, her high cheekbones. She dressed in a light blue gown, with her brown hair clear, in the newest fashions.

She greeted him first, kissing him both, embracing him. “Welcome home.”

His father had given him a curt nod.

“This is my guest, Signor Baldoleto. He’s going to remain here for a few days before going home.”

He nodded, knowing that he had sent them very small window of time.

“I’ll be glad to have him,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”

“I’ll follow Mama.” Cecelia followed them.

Federico gazed with a curiosity, then Cosimo gave him a look.

“Go with your Mama.” The boy nodded and went inside.

Then, the whole room was gone, the servants were all returnign to work. Now, it was just Lorenzo and his father.

“I’ll see you in my study, we have matters to discuss that do not concern your mother or sisters.”

He nodded, before following his father. It seemed whatever it was, it was important.

---

Lorenzo knocked on the door before hearing his father’s allowance for him to enter. He opened the door into a rather spartan study. Few books, a writing desk, a desk, with a few armchairs for any guests whom he might invite to talk business. Or for Lorenzo, to talk about his future.

The servant passed Lorenzo at the door, passing him the coffee. He closed the door, as he went to the armchair and pouring one each for his father. It used to be wine, but he had quit it.

His father softened himself, relaxing right in his presence. “Tell me what you think about anything, the trip, or your discoveries.”

The trip had been expensive, though so far, he seems satisfied with the results it yielded. It was never on a whim, for some fathers, a chance to send away troublesome sons and hope that the traveling life would teach them a thing or two. But for his father, Cosimo, it was always a calculated investment.

“I’m upset that you called me back,” he said. “Especially so suddenly.”

His father, despite all his appearances, cared about them. But he believed any ounce of emotion he showed as a lord it needed to remain behind closed doors and hidden away. There was a dignity to maintain, as his father liked to remain with him.

They had to remain cool, as though they differed from them.

“You did well with them. A good host, warm enough to ingratiate yourself but with an appropriate distance,” Cosimo told them. “It’s not an easy balance to strike. Too much and they will use you for their aims; too little, and they will see you as a leech seeking to take their labour and money, offering little in return.”

He was glad, always never certain. Though his father was measuring him up to the standards of a future lord. And it was uncomfortable to him as he was always gazing and telling him.

“Then what did you learn?”

“Ideas about rationality, education, and I have ideas for reform.” He had wanted to say it.

His father glanced at him, taking a moment.

Lorenzo worried whether there was something wrong.

He put it down, almost losing his sense of pride. “Things work fine as they always are, my son, and you do not change them. Look at the success of the Pannonian Emperor. He’s young and thinks he can reform only to get shot down by his subjects because they will not stand for it.”

“Even if it proves to be better?” Lorenzo had to argue a little. He couldn’t disagree.

“How can you tell?” He asked. “If it goes wrong, they will come after your head. You do not understand statecraft or how mistakes are often fatal there. You cannot play with the lives of people to test out an idea. They’ll just see as acting upon your whims for no good reason. They know how kept them alive, which was how their parents did it, and their parents before them. When you ask them to take up something new, it becomes harder to expect what the result is.”

“I don’t quite know, but these are sound ideas,” He said.

“Ideas that are not done are uncertain,” he said, harshly. “They’re only thinkers, and they think the best of people and simplify concepts much like you do; they’re still looking for someone to use them in their work. But if you actually implement them, it’s rarely that simple.”

He stopped, but he was right.

“When I was young, I wanted to implement my own ideas. I’m glad someone explained to me why, and it was the same reason as I told you.”

I would see him as foolish or arrogant, neither of which was good.

“I understand that,” he said. “But I still want to.”

“You can learn how and then make your own choices. I’m not telling you not to, but why you shouldn’t unless you’re certain,” he said. “Reform takes time because you can actually see whether the idea is good or bad. You can’t rush.”

“Was it also why you wanted me to come back?” He asked, to teach him everything he knew. “I know you were ill, and that you recovered.”

He sent his own expectations.

“I worry, and I need you to know as much as I can. It’s a lifelong obligation,” he said. “You need to understand what it means to be a lord. As you stand, you’re not ready.”

Lorenzo didn’t quite know how to meet his eyes, always finding himself wanting in his eyes. Philosophy, books, and letters were something that was clear to him. But not this.

“I will learn.”

“I always thought that you would fight me to protect your ideals, but you can see a reason for yourself, and when something is impossible,” he said. “Sarponne has changed you, in a good way.”

Perhaps he was glad that he did it. That was something that Lorenzo fought so hard for. He smiled, glad to see that an idea of his actually worked out well.

He let out a relief. “Either way, this is only a small part. But I do not fault you because I never taught you. But that will change now.”

He wasn’t the heir till the last few years, before he always dreamed of being a professor.

“Did I disappoint you then when I didn’t make the trip back then?” He asked. It ate away at him a month ago, always as he thought. “I was getting ready to go back, but then you did not.”

He didn’t quite know, not wishing to give up Sarponne.

“Yes, and no,” he answered. “I am not disappointed. Maybe upset you put your ideas over them. But now, when it mattered, you returned.”

“I was planning on leaving anyway, perhaps to a different place,” he said.

“You’re here now, and that says more,” he said.

His actions mattered far more than what he thought.

“I’m glad that you finally put your family above your ideas,” he said. “For family is what you have when you fail. Ideals can always change, and they will change as you grow older, Lorenzo. No matter how much you want to remain constant, but times change, beliefs can shift. But family does not.”

For they shared the same blood.

“I know, but I don’t want to give it up.”

“It’s not quite the same. I’m not asking you to lose it all. That’s a part of you, but you must choose and prioritize wisely. For they can ruin you, if you’re not careful.” His father warned.

He knew why, the familiar words that marked his childhood came right into his mind. He let out a little in annoyance. “For family is bound to you, your reputation influences how they would see them. So your success is helping them too.”

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Cosimo gave a laugh. “You still remember that.”

Though, it was said during brotherly conflict when he struggled to imagine just why someone would put family and duty above all.

He couldn’t argue with that. He had to learn before he could suggest anything. But he would not give them up. Neither was his father asking him, either. “When do we need to go?”

“It’s been a long journey, and I told you to return as soon as possible. Take a rest first, and then I’ll show you what you need to do as a lord.” His father held his shoulder, father and son being the same height/

There was nothing else, as his father departed and he watched. He rarely showed, but Lorenzo knew he feared his own death. And his brush with death. That had changed it.

Cosimo focused on the estate and family, and he wanted Lorenzo to take charge; that frightened him a lot. His father, as it seemed, was preparing for the inevitability that he was gone. Except as a former soldier, he didn’t run away from problems. Instead, he faced them head on.

He would yearn to travel, to know more, but he could not continue disappointing them. He felt so guilty, for he loved his parents so much.

His mother came inside, the sound of her shoes making him aware. “I worry a great deal about him these days.”

“I do too, Mama,” he said, glancing.

“Was it hard?” She asked. “You know why he wants you here.”

“I’m sure of that.” He looked at them.

“His illness made him worried about what state this would be in if he didn’t tell you how to handle the matters of state.”

“I thought that too.”

“Was there anything else?” She asked with a smile, always knowing him.

“I guess I do want to improve their lives. So many rulers choose to learn, and then implement the ideas of the greatest thinkers in their principles or to improve them. And how it’s never as simple as telling them why they should.”

Her mither nodded. “People do not obey you just because they think you’re great. But they have to see the benefit of it to them, and how their lives would change. Persuade them, softly, if you force it upon them, they will hate you,”

His mother was far more sympathetic, but above all, he did not feel burdened by her expectations. She counseled him with her view.

“I need to know that,” he said.

“That’s good.” she gave him an embrace, oftne bolstering his confidence.

“I should find Signor Baldoleto and see whether he's settled in.” Maybe he coudl also spend sometime talking about philosophy to him a little.

“He got settled in, and it’s been a long journey from Sarponne.” Beatrice held his hand, she only came up to his shoulder with him. “Come, I’ll show you your room so that you can get some rest. It’s the same as when you left.”

She was always caring, and made him feel right at home.

“I was never gone for longer than six months, Mama." He laughed. Not quite sure just why it seemed so much longer.

“Felt like years to me,” she said. Of course, his missing presence was clear.

She then brought him to the familiar place, and the door opened to his old room. It was good to be home.

---

Lorenzo sat on his bed, thinking whether he should retire. He still wanted to eat dinner with his family—his parents, younger sister and brother—for the first time in months. He missed his family, and that would be nice.

“Bring me a cup of coffee,” he asked his valet, unpacking his stuff from his trip. He had only taken one or two grand suits.

“Of course, Signore.” He went out of the room, coming back with a boiled pot of coffee.

“Were there many people in the kitchen?”

“Just the usual,” he said. “The servants are all there to do their jobs.”

He found it hard to hear Gennaro say a single word. He took a sip, feeling more alive than it was. Then, they heard a door knock. Lorenzo turned, blinking, wondering who it was.

Gennaro then went to open it to see the guest. It being a part of his duties. Lorenzo drank it whole, before

It was a maid dressed in the light yellow livery, under an apron of the family.

“Signorina Cecelia would like to see you. If it isn’t bothering you.” Gennaro told him.

He felt more energized now. “Let her in.”

He stood up as the maid went to see his sister standing outside. Though he didn’t quite know why, but she came inside. She dressed in the same gown, of pale pink with a light white hat with a simple pink ribbon. Her brown curly hair, with bangs framing her face, was a delicate beauty. She had her father’s hair and eyes, but with soft features. She took a seat opposite him, having missed him incredibly.

Despite it all, she always loved life, and wanted to be with him, discussing and talking about everything. He rarely found her bothersome.

“You’re not taking a rest?” She asked, puzzled.. “I don’t leave, but when I do, that’s the first thing that I want to do when I come back.”

“No, not yet,” he said. “I’m not tired, and I’m going to miss dinner if I take a break. The meeting with Papa took up most of my afternoon, but I can get a midday meal.”

“That makes sense, since dinner is only a few hours away.”

“I need to pass you your gift inside.” He reached inside, more than happy, only to come up short and twitched.

Cecelia laughed. “Is anything wrong?”

“I left my gift with Signor Baldoleto.” Lorenzo couldn’t meet her eyes.

“We can do that later.” She answered. “But why did you come back so soon?”

His parents didn’t tell her anything. That was clear.

She knew Papa always felt that he had to shield her. Perhaps, until she was engaged and married, would he tell her? But Lorenzo doubted it would hurt her to know.

“I know that he’s changed after all his illness. The doctor even told once to prepare his last rites for my mother. I was in the corner hearing him, but then they brushed it off once he recovered.”

Cecelia was sharp. She liked to write poetry, often sometimes noticing things about her life. She preferred botany, and to take walks in the house. Truly relishing nature and writing poetry about it when she could no longer take it.

“Yes, he’s worried. He wants me to at least know how to run the Marquisate.” Lorenzo put his hands. “I feel bad for not coming back the moment I caught wind of it.”

And that was why he was here now.

“Why didn’t you?” She asked.

“I had so much more things to settle, and then, just as I was about to leave, Papa told me not to come.”

He looked, he didn’t quite know. But here Cecelia was.

“Is the stress really affecting you?” She asked. “Papa expects a lot out of you, clearly more than he does for Federico.”

And ever for her. But he sometimes wondered whether it would be so much easier. If he had been a girl, he wouldn’t know that much. But it was upon his father’s charity that he would learn more than what a girl needed to be a good wife. Cecelia was his favourite, and he didn’t mind having an intelligent daughter.

“Yes, I cannot deny it, but I don’t know whether I should tell you.” They could have kept her innocent, but Cecelia was never an innocent. Or far from the sheltered girls who sought love, companionship and romance. But it was hard for her to seek because of her health.

“Did it the meeting badly?”

Lorenzo didn’t quite know how to answer the question. “I told him something that I wanted to do. He was right to point it out.”

“What was it?” Cecelia asked.

“I hoped to reform Stressa, to change it.” He told her. Before he could find his travelogue, he did that when he was traveling back home. As it documented it all.

Cecelia loved it, and he never found it a bother. It helped to deal with the boredom of the long carriage rides, and to spot scenic pieces of nature. She always used them or tried to find them when she traveled herself.

“Thank you.” Cecelia took a book before a pause. Then she looked, wishing to speak, her eyes right at him. “But hear me out? I think there’s something you’re not telling him?”

Lorenzo agreed. His sister often seemed to read the emotions better than Lorenzo did. His father had grilled into him how to read the room so he didn’t offend his guests, or his peoples or seem disinterested in their welfare. He always struggled with it.

“If you feel the need to change, you're telling him he did a terrible job, that in your eyes, he’s not nearly as successful.” Cecelia asked.

He jolted. “Although I don’t think he sees it that way, more in the sense that it isn’t a simple task.”

Cecelia looked at them in silence. She was quite right. Perhaps deep down, he felt hurt. Even if his objections were more logical. His mother would have done the same too. Even if it was unspoken on his lips, his father would not have taken that well.

He leaned, but they were no longer quite father and son. His father was now his tutor to stewardship of the estates.

“You’re quite right,” he said. “I’m fantastic at accidentally going off on the wrong foot.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” she said.

“I’ll talk to Mama later about it.” This was better suited for his mother, as Cecelia was tongue-tied. He understood her best, and she vice versa.

They had grown closer ever since the day he became the heir to his father’s estate.

“Well, I should let you see your gift, even if it means that I’m going to visit Placido.” He was about to get out.

Cecelia stopped him. “Would it be a bother to find Signor Baldoleto?”

He put on his coat, leading her out right into the room. Then he stopped. “I don’t know where he would stay.”

“Well, if I’m just about to grab a book, he doesn’t mind.” He looked at them.

Cecelia trusted him, and Lorenzo knew him best.

“I’ll take you there.” Cecelia agreed to take him directly to the room. It was alongside his room, although Cecelia’s room was on the opposite side of the house.

“The maid told me,” she told him. “I asked, just in case you both wanted to talk to each other.”

Then, he knocked on the door, his valet, Amico, opening the door.

“Is Signor Baldoleto busy?” He asked.

“He’s reading. I’ll inform him of your arrival.” The valet went inside with a bow before opening the door for them.

Lorenzo went inside, knowing that he was right.

“I’m guessing you’re looking for this.” Placido passed him two original books, one about botany and the other being a collection of poems.

This was what he was looking for. He took it up and passed it with both hands to her.

“This is what you wanted.”

Cecelia smiled, embracing her, but also turning to him with a smile. “Thank you. I was searching for them but also for the book about gardens and plants. But the local library here didn’t have it, and there is only one book that I learned was purchased in Rancie.”

That was why she begged them to buy it when they went there. A book about

She liked to work in the garden as a hobby, one thing that was open to her as she remained home. Cecelia quickly left, eager to devote herself again.

“So, how are you settling in?” He asked, needing to do so for his friend, taking a seat down.

“Well,” he said, flipping. “The room is pleasant, a fireplace, everything I need, and I’ve already eaten a good meal. Signora de Moreni also invited me for dinner later.”

Lorenzo smiled.

Placido, eager to return to his books, then raised his eyebrow. “Are you here for a reason?”

He folded his hands, knowing that he had to tell him. Perhaps internally, it was him knowing this truth, but refusing to face up to it until he could not. “My return here is my father wanting to teach me the ways of the world. And I don’t think I can leave it soon.”

Though Lorenzo would love to, but for now, it was out of reach. Perhaps later he’ll see it again.

“I see,” he said. “Then I’ll just stay here for a few days before continuing my journey home. I hope I’m not too much of a nuisance.”

“We have few guests, so no, you’re not.”
Lorenzo turned and walked out the door, knowing that his acceptance means that travel would be impossible for a few years.

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