He sat in a refurbished room, one that was given to him. This wouldn’t have been his until now, and he pushed his favourite books, often staying here till the wee hours. He read once he was done and joined them down for dinner.

There were good days where all things completed with spare time; days where he only wanted to read instead of doing anything. And today was the latter, where he fought himself to focus on just getting through a tedious report. 

He often read in the evenings after his father retired, either here or going back to his room. 

And there was nothing getting him outside of a funk that he was in, not dreaming of a youth that he had, or of the future he would leave. All he could think was that piece of philosophy that he had read was interested him and he wanted to know more. 

But he could not. He promised not to run away, and he had his reasons not to. But today, it was failing him. He leaned back, maybe just a brief respite of thinking. With his journal, he could write some musings to clear his head. 

Then he heard a knock. He looked up, with Gennaro going. 

“Alright.” He put it down before going, always preferring books to any human interactions. 

He opened it, wondering who it was, until he knew he had to look down as he was seeing air. There was only one child here right now: Federico. And he was right. He dressed in a suit with breeches and a smile. 

He went down to meet his eye. “What do you need to ask?” 

“I wanted to ask you something. Cecelia always said you knew it better. Something about the classical languages.” He was nervous, fidgeting with his papers. 

He had learned a lot of it so that he could read the texts of the classical language in their original language or a suitable translation. 

"Has she been helping you?” 

He nodded. “With literature and just about everything else. Except this. Could you help me, please?” 

Cecelia knew literature the best, for she had her own literary ambitions and could help. But he had to work, he had to tell him. 

Then, he felt a tugging on his coat; Federico, staring at him with big, hopeful eyes. It was the same way he used to look at his elder brother. 

Lorenzo gave just one glance back to the work, and how he was just moping anyway, intending to daydream. There really wasn’t that option left. 

He gave a sigh before standing aside so that Federico could pass. But before he could say anything, his brother already rushed past him and took a seat on his coach. He stared, with only a nostalgic smile. 

“He really wanted to see you. I hope it’s not a bother.” The governess had come, a woman with light blonde hair and sweet blue eyes. 

He shook his head. “Just get on with your duties. I’ll fetch you once he’s complete.”

“Before I go, I should pass you his things. The boy was in such a hurry he forgot them.” 

He waited and gladly took it before closing the door.

“So, are you just going to not tell him?” Gennaro asked. 

“When he figures it out.” It’s good that he has Vanna with him or always following him. 

But first, he joined him, with the papers hiding behind his back. 

“I wanted to ask Papa, but he seemed to be busy and they kept me away. He was meeting someone.” 

Lorenzo had an idea. It was probably the steward. “Does he help you a lot?” 

It had been a whirlwind these few weeks, where he spent it trying to understand his responsibilities. He didn’t devote that much time to speaking with his family at all.  

“He likes to help me and watches me as I do everything. He’ll also teach me things sometimes and talk about his life.”  

That had been something special reserved only for his elder brother, but with him no longer being a boy, perhaps he relished being a father and sought to recreate them with his youngest son. 

He banished those thoughts from his head. He had to think about his brother. Since he was asking for help. 

“How about we get started?” Lorenzo asked. 

Federico got down before realizing. “Can you call back Vanna?” 

He put it out right in front of his eyes. “She already knew you forgot.” 

Federico took it before blushing and taking a seat on the sofa. He grabbed a spare inkpot for him to use. 

Then he showed him the things he needed help with. Rudimentary grammar on the classics and philosophy, but he was around eight years old. But he seemed to be quite bright if he was doing so. But his father always expected them to push themselves. 

He taught Federico the philosophy first, mostly the boy listening intently to him. 

“Why do people find philosophy interesting?” He asked. “I like rhetoric a little more.” 

“I liked it, it was the beginning of progress. Before there was science, or a definitive version, philosophy was what it was called. It was perhaps to understand our world better, to know why it is happening and to understand it logically.”  

Even now, so many of life remained wonders, mysteries or perhaps miracles. Lorenzo never quite felt it was right. 

“Was it meant to understand the world which we live in apart from how God created it?” He asked. 

He would have read the scriptures, a rite of passage since their youth. Religion was a crucial part of their life, and who they were. Though Lorenzo may have held his doubts, but he could not openly question it. Not when it dominated everything. 

Why would a wonderful creature cause death? Why would they not eradicate it? Where did they go after death?

He had that question, ever since he had seen death for the first time, of someone whose time was not up. 

Now Federico was still young, and he wouldn’t doubt it. But Lorenzo already held much doubts in his mind. 

“Yes, or rather, to understand why he did it. They’re all perfect and unique after all,” he said. 

Not wishing to stir the pot by passing on his beliefs, even when he wasn’t too certain. Or wishing to get banned by Federico’s tutors for influencing him? This was when he was older, and able to tell the truth from the lies. 

He and Cecelia often held much interest, often debating about life and death and symbolism. And just why they did it, but not with Federico, who was too young to understand it. 

Federico continued to write, satisfied with all these answers. So, Lorenzo headed back to work. 

This cleared his head and went back to continuing. Now, it was much easier to focus, to think, and then to please. 

“I’m done,” Federico said, giving him an embrace before thanking him. 

“I have spent little time with you lately, so it’s easy.” He put a hand on his shoulder before they broke away. 

“Papa always said that you were trying to adjust, and soon you’ll be able to spend time with me,” he said. “Papa always liked to teach me how to ride a horse instead of this.” 

That sounds like his father. “He’s a soldier, but you can always ask me anything. Even if it’s not immediate, I will make time for you.” 

He was too occupied, but perhaps this 

Federico gave a toothy grin, happy to hear it.  

He was just easily forgetful and occupied. 

Gennaro opened the door, only to hear the welcoming footsteps of Cosimo. Cosimo’s stern gaze looked, and only softened once he met Federico’s eyes, surprised to see him here. 

Federico ran up to see him, eagerly. 

Cosimo scooped his son up. “So, this is where you’ve been? I thought I told you not to bother him. So, why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“I wanted to ask him a few questions, since sister already said that brother knew best for these topics.” 

“It must be the classical languages and philosophy, for that is what your brother excels at, for studying that in university.” 

Cosimo turned to face him. “How do you feel about it? “

“No, I enjoy having him around.” 

His father teased his nose, just a little, before putting him down and sending him on his way. Just before Federico ran out, he gave his brother a brief glance. 

The mood dropped a little, for Federico was no longer here. 

“What did you get done?” Cosimo asked, glancing over his papers.

Lorenzo had one which was finished by luncheon, and a second one which was half done. He gave a smile. 

“Some, I got some of it done.” 

“I can excuse you for wanting to care about Federico—you’ve been doing well.” 

That was praise he didn’t expect to hear. But above all, he wasn’t proud of himself for how long he took to handle it. “I have something to confess: most of these things bore me.” 

“It bored me when I first started, too. I was interested in going off to war, to be a hero, with foolish dreams of glory. I never cared about it until it was too late when I was about to become lord, and my father was gone. You’re a better man than me in that regard.” 

He didn’t know. “Also, I think you got something wrong.” 

Lorenzo went to fix it. He always felt a little conscious. 

“It’s a minor one.” He looked. “I know that this is entirely unlike who you are. You're someone who wants to dip your head in the books all days, to never leave, to have another care in the world.” 

“Except I was born and inherited responsibilities I don’t intend to run away from,” Lorenzo said, but he would not concede yet. Maybe in the future it might change. 

“But it is possible to one day look at it from the other side and enjoy it. Once you know.” 

“Once I know, I’ll be able to figure out how to save time for myself.”

Cosimo only had a proud smile, one of the first he’s seen.