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 Parma 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 Parma 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 Parma 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.