Chapter 4: Responsibilities (I)

Lorenzo could recognize the route, as they had passed by Paserta, mostly to stop here. They had traveled the same route, reversed. He looked out, eager to see his friend out at long last.

The carriage ride was two hours, mostly boredom. As he took a seat, he glanced out the window.

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Lorenzo asked, giving a smile.

Placido was fiddling with the book, bored with the things. “I’ll like to see more of the famous Pasertan library, but I need to leave the next day.”

The vast library, with extensive collections, mostly a carryover from the previous dynasty that ruled Paserta, the della Roccas as they were known.

“I forget, it is a magnificent library. I’ve borrowed countless books from it.” Lorenzo silently agreed.

“Do you like to read, Signor Baldoleto?” Cosimo asked, never giving up on decorum even though Placido was younger than his eldest son.

“Yes, I do, but I prefer to collect and read them from my estate, mostly as a hobby. I think we should keep all knowledge regardless of where it came from, but I need to head home to take more responsibility,” he said, glancing at Cosimo. “She thinks that my short sojourn to Sarponne is enough.”

It was not all too different, but perhaps it eases his father’s worries that he had forced them. But it was on their family’s coin that they traveled.

Cosimo broke into a smile, for Placido was learned, but also rather meticulous albeit soft-spoken. It was why they hit it off so well, but it’s been years since Lorenzo found his voice.

Placido smiled, even as they hit another bumpy road. His parents had treated him as though he was an addition to the family, someone that Lorenzo was fond of.

And then, there was a smile of youth.

“Papa, did you ever experience it when I was young?” He asked. “A grand tour, I mean.”

“I did,” he said. “But it was not for leisure, but for war. I agreed because being away from your family and your parents, it teaches you how to act for yourself. For men, learn how to carry yourself and make trips. There is always a risk. Banditry, accidents, but it’s a part of life that you’ll need to learn to take care of yourself.”

Because one day, their fathers may not be there anymore for them.

That was why Cosimo did not protest when Lorenzo breached the idea to him; Lorenzo spent days just breaching the idea of his mother.

“I guess school doesn’t count. You’re never allowed out of sight, and there are always headmasters and professors.”

Though Lorenzo looked upon it fondly, he didn’t have worries, burdens, or looming promises — the best point of his life.

“Both of us would agree that it was the best part,” he said.

Old enough to act for themselves, but having no actual responsibilities in life to worry about.

“Yes, going to the military academy was the same. It was hard, but I could.”

Lorenzo was glad they got along well. And perhaps this association and friendship were good.

“Are you the eldest son?” He asked.

“I’m already the lord of a small piece of land in Rovirna,” he said. “My mother administers on my behalf.”

He nodded. His father could see it in his eyes. And how Placido found it so easy to assume. Lorenzo, however, struggled, for he wasn’t the heir until he was a teenager.

Then they were no longer moving. The valets opened the door, reading the footstool for his father’s slow descent down. He’s always had a bad leg, from afar.

“I hope this isn’t too much for you.” Placido told him.

“It isn’t. I have business here regardless.” He assured him.

“I’ll find the horses meant for you, signore.” The valet went aside before Placido nodded.

“I’ll be going first. Take your time to say your farewells to him and join me when you’re done.”

“Thank you, Papa.” He thanked his father, always for that. As they didn’t know when they could see each other again.

Cosimo turned around and leaving.

Lorenzo looked relieved, but also glad that the conversation went so well. Placido put a hand on his shoulder, easily assuring him, as though knowing.

“I’m alright, he’s my father after all.”

“Do you feel rather inadequate for him?”

“I feel like I can’t match up. Even though I try to be his ideal heir, perhaps thinking, but he’s mostly rather upset,” he confessed. “I just don’t know how to read him.”

“I think he thinks you need his guidance more than anything else.” Placido held his arms. “He’s kind, and you’re not here to do a perfect job. You’re here to try. What you don’t know, he can tell you.”

“You’re right, but how are you so certain?”

Placido had been a year older than he was, and they struck a chord earlier.

“It was the same with my parents, too. My father, he passed when I was ten, sought to prepare me for stewardship. He never believed my mother was ready or ever would be, and so he tried to teach me everything. Now, I can do it, but it’s just my duty. But she could, but it’s how you learn.”

Placido always wished for that connection. His father’s brothers had been dead, as he knew it. In fact, his father had been a priest, leaving the priesthood to continue the family line. And he had done so, marrying a young woman to continue the family line. He had three younger brothers and a single sister.

Mistakes were inevitable, even though his father had warned him.

Cosimo would be there to smooth them all over. Lorenzo need not worry.

“Something did bug me. Who inspired your love for books?” Lorenzo asked.

“My father, he wrote them as a guideline for me and once he realize he wouldn’t live to see me go on.”

And he still could turn to his father. Placido could not. He was much more lucky than he seemed.

“Thank you,” he said. This allayed his fears incredibly and how he would deal with them.

“Things really changed. You were much more carefree when we first met.”

“So do you,” he said, admitting it to him. “I’m glad to talk to you. Can I talk to you about this? Do the same for me if you need someone to talk to.”

This was an offer. They both were in a similar predicament, and they understood the weight. Perhaps it was good. Though they inherited the lion's share of the property and fortune, they also inherited most of the family’s problems.

Placido nodded. “That’s what friends are for, after all.”

Lorenzo was glad that he talked to him.

“Signore, I’ve returned.” Amico came back with his hand over his heart.

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Now, they had to say goodbye to each other. He gave Placido an embrace, knowing that it will be awhile before they’ll see them again.

Then he left with his valet. Lorenzo watching until he faded from view, once Placido was gone from sight.

Gennaro looked at him, giving a nod. It was time to meet his father.

---

Lorenzo prepared himself when he went up, remembering what Cecelia told him and, of course, the work that would await him when he’s upstairs. He knocked on the doors before hearing them go inside.

This was nowhere as large as the villa, where it was a sprawling. They also owned a much smaller villa at close to the main villa, both of which were nearby. Not more than just a quick trip, and they could stay there if they were an heir and if they felt like they needed space =. Until their grandfather built a new one, to cement his status as a major lord. It had twenty rooms.

But their residence in Paserta was a lot more modest, and smaller. He preferred the silence of the estate, but the smallest of their townhouse. Both of which had something he wanted, though he preferred to be in Paserta because of the extent of the library.

And he always had much priority, perhaps because the Duke was his cousin.

Lorenzo eyed the stacks of papers that would soon become his on a small writing desk, the ink inside the quill, but the papers freshly written. He caught up with work while Lorenzo said his goodbyes to his friend.

“Didn’t you want to go to the library?” Cosimo asked.

“I can always go later, when we have more time.” He wanted to do it. “I didn’t know that I hurt your feelings.”

“I’m not particularly troubled by it, either.” Cosimo insisted. He had felt little about it. “I was a soldier, and that was not the worst I’ve heard. They were harsher so that you can return in one piece. And neither was my father kind. But there is something that we both share.”

“What is it?” Lorenzo asked, surprised.

“That we both think we know what’s best, and we will ignore the rest. But it’s easy for us to ignore it, and to ignore the feeling of others. That always caused resentment.”

Cosimo spoke, as though he knew it firsthand.

Lorenzo looked. “Did you ever do it?”

“Yes, I made plenty of mistakes. I’m telling you them all and being hard on you because I can bring it upon myself to forgive you, for you are my son. But others would not be nearly as kind or forgiving or willing to overlook your flaws for the man underneath.”

“Most lords choose to do what they know, to not step out, because it is difficult. It’s difficult, and not all are good at it.”

But he hoped to be more, a good lord and perhaps in the future, he might one day aid in the improvement of his duchy. This was his home, and it wasn’t difficult for Lorenzo to say. He loved the mountains, running across as a child. Even now, he did it too.

He used to travel the horses with his brother, as they both raced each other from the villa all the way to the edge of their Duchy. Nothing would change that or the memories he made here.

“I will learn, Papa.” He promised him.

“That is enough for me. If you’re willing, then you will make more improvements.” He closed his eyes, satisfied. “Besides, you’re not nearly as bad a judge as I was. Signor Berlusconi is someone you can trust and he can be someone you can confide in.”

For they share the same burden in so many ways.

“Perhaps it was luck that brought you together, and I hope you keep in contact with him.”

“I will. I just liked him more than the rest.” They spent so much time talking, one friend he talked.

There were more back here, the sons of the lords who would one day be under him, or the son of the current steward eyeing his father’s position and cultivating him.

“I also have to tell you something,” Cosimo said. “You can change the way things are done, but you have to know what you are doing before you do.”

“I cannot let myself be carried away by an idea,” he said.

“Especially one that you think works in your mind. Reform is often hard if you do it correctly, someone would get angry at it. But it’s worse if it’s done badly because you’ll piss off the ones you’re trying to help and those whose lives you’ve affected.”

Lorenzo nodded, realising something that he had to talk. “The worst solution is not one that doesn’t work, and hurts no one, it’s one that accomplishes nothing while also angering everybody.”

“A wasted opportunity, in so many ways. More so, for you had the chance and the knowledge of what needed to be done. Ideas are unnecessary, execution is a lot more important.”

“What about the Revoans?”

“They are a continent away. They can rebel and easy for them to win,” he said. “However, I will never presume that I know the future.”

For it is a hard and fickle thing to predict.

He was choosing to hand over the reins of him. “Administering the region seems like so much work now.”

The paperwork, the balancing and, of course, meeting the people. They were all exhausting. Lorenzo preferred to think of ideas, but it was too late. He was the heir now, and he would not run from it. Perhaps he could be the one to bring them to life. He enjoyed conversing with the ideas, but he had never truly spent a lot of time thinking about his philosophy.

Cosimo gives a chuckle. “The people look to you to solve the problems they don’t quite know how to solve. The Duke sees you would obey him and bring money to his coffers, keep the people from rebelling.”

Sometimes he could do both, while others it would force him to choose.

Lorenzo knew what he had to do. “I have to master it, because I hope to reform Paserta too. Not just here.”

He cannot fail here, not when it was a chance for a step forward.

Cosimo raised his eyebrow. “If that is what you wish, I will not stop you. It’s a goal, one that you defined.”

His father looked at him with a certain eyes.

Lorenzo knew, taking a seat down at the writing desk. Ready to start.

“We’re not ready yet.” His father looked at his eagerness. “But it’s fine if you admit that you’re not excited. No one is to do this.”

It is for the sake of reaping the benefits of them, never having to slave away to life. Or perhaps for their own personal ambitions. Lorenzo was the latter, but he also wanted to bring them more.

Lorenzo turned in shock, putting down the quill, almost getting them all over the paper. It was dripping, and he cleaned up the ink spill.

“What’s more to do?”

“We have to wait for the steward and he is running late.” Extremely late, as they had a long conversation.

Lorenzo wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t supposed.

“There are intricacies he’s better to explain than me. I’m a simple man, and I spent a long time away in wars. I never gained it.”

And Lorenzo knew that the day to day would require his advice, for he knew more than Lorenzo did. He was also his deputy when he wasn’t around for the financial affairs and the administration of the Marquisate.

Then he heard the door open. The steward had finally arrived, and they were finally ready.

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