In the months that passed by, he had contented himself with work. Now, it was close to the beginning of summer; it having been a few pleasant months. Had few reasons to neglect himself that much, and adjusted to life. 

But of course, he had his pleasures too, and things that reminded him why he chose this. And people who understood him. He was glad to have kept Placido in his correspondence, although they rarely had more than monthly letters. But it was usually long, detailed and filled with plenty of questions and topics that they ponder. 

Lorenzo swore that he’ll come visit him one day, in his domain. Now, he just needed to learn enough that he had leverage to go. 

“Here’s more work coming in from the steward.” Gennaro put it down, and to improve his writing, he wrote some documents for him. Lorenzo had to sit with him, but by now, he didn’t need to and could just look at the book itself. 

“Put it over there. I’ll look at it later.” He glanced, before glancing at the date. “I think there’s something today.   

Gennaro looked at him. “They’ve already come. They’re at the hall, just getting settled in for their visit.” 

His favourite cousins they used to come more often. But once Napoleone had gone to Paris for school, their visits became more sporadic. Though he liked to talk with Napoleone as a whole.

Lorenzo stood up, although it was never sure. They were perhaps reaching by the end of the day. There was a need to clean up his desk, but there wasn’t enough time for them. 

“I’ll try to do it.” 

He used to spend all his time. Perhaps they’ll be asking him just why he wasn’t waiting for them outside. He could bet everyone except him and his father. 

He tried to go down. But no one bothered him. 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?” 

“Well, it may be my fault.” 

“It’s fine. I’ve been too focused.” He hated getting disturbed once he needed to focus. And htat was almost every day. 

Maybe he could meet them and sneak in. Then there was a knock on the door.

“Nevermind,” he said. 

It was his cousin, after all. He could explain. Gennaro went to open the door, revealing with his two cousins. 

It was his relatively short cousins. Giuseppe was a man, shaping up to be just above average height, in a pair of fresh coat and breeches. While Liberio or Napoleone, as he called himself these days, was average, but often held a mean glare, dressed in a military uniform, and his back straight. 

His mother came from the tiny island of Corsica, off the Italian shores and used to be owned by the republic of Genoa, which was close to Stressa. But France conquered them, and by most accounts embraced the culture. 

“Why couldn’t you have come down?” 

“They already said he’s busy learning how to run the estate. It’s not as though he learned it in his childhood.” Giuseppe held his brother back. 

“Yes, something like that.” Lorenzo sheepishly said. “I also forgot the time, as I dealt with the manor affairs.”

“Sounds like you had a lot to work to do,” Giuseppe observed. 

Napoleone looked at him. “I can’t blame you for that.” 

“You can go. Come, tell me if my father summons us.” 

Though Gennaro had prepared some refreshments for them, putting it down before he left. 

“So, what happened to that dreamy philosopher?” He asked. 

“Still here,” he said with a grin. 

Napoleone liked him, for he indulged his hunger for knowledge and perhaps answer. And of course, lending him all the books that his parents would not give him. 

“But didn’t you just give him?” Napoleone asked. “I always thought you were harder than that.” 

Giuseppe looked at him. “Well, I think it’s more complicated than that, isn’t that right Lorenzo?” 

“I wanted to run from it, as I wanted to not occupy it. This was never mine.” And Lorenzo still believed it. “But now, I’ve accepted it. I can’t run, nor would it benefit me. Since it fell onto my shoulders, and I saw more than that.” 

“You mean more than just a prison that you didn’t ask for and didn’t want?” Giuseppe asked. “Because that’s how I saw you then.” 

Giuseppe could be blunt, but he wouldn’t get why. 

“He’s not wrong. If you didn’t choose it, then it is a prison. But if you do, then it’s a different story. I want to know why.” Napoleone knew they shared similar desires, and why they were close.

Even their last conversation in Paris, and in between letters. Lorenzo still had no desire. 

“I think it’s realising that I also value my family, as much as I value the chance to pursue knowledge.” But there was a third goal, that he didn’t quite tell anyone else. 

“Is it the same for you?” He asked. 

“I guess I’ve heard from an uncle a few times. He’s been trying to manage my expectations of what my progression would look like in the military, especially the French ones.” 

They were all notorious for favouring the nobles over everyone else, for the nobles became more and more outdated with time except the military. If there was one benefit, it was their loyalty. It was absolutely guaranteed. 

“What would you do once you hit that ceiling?” Lorenzo asked. “I’m not giving up, as I now know why. I want to change things around here. But don’t tell anyone.” 

“That explains why you’re so diligent, since you’re mostly occupied with your own philosophy and ethics instead of perhaps this.” 

“I like to think. And then I realised that most of their dreams are rarely more useful than just ideas. But it’s difficult to make them reality, and perhaps I’m not confident anymore.” 

“Because you can’t devote your heart and soul to it. You have your family. You can’t give it all up.” Giuseppe could understand that. 

Napoleone did not, but he had his own dreams of grandeur and glory. It kept him going in that 

Not like them, at least. 

“No, but I also want to see change. I want to leave a world that’s better than the one I was born into. A world where we could chase our dreams without shame.” Lorenzo glanced, as though realizing a deeper reasoning why he did all this. 

Perhaps this was how he justified it all. 

For it was always to put the family first, duty over love. Lorenzo hated denying himself the things he wanted, and he hated the fact that he had to choose. 

Napoleone’s eyes gleamed. “A world where it’s decided by talent instead of birth? A world where you can get what you deserve if you put in the effort rather than thanking God that it fell into your lap by birthright?”

“Exactly, since I doubt people would do something they know they’re awful at, it’s just common sense.” Lorenzo looked at him. 

“I can’t, really. I just prefer a wonderful family.” Giuseppe smiled, as though not getting much of it at all. 

“Is there a reason?” He asked. 

Napoleone hunkered down a little, as though he had never seen his cousin do it. Lorenzo knew him as the one with the indomitable will, and a desire that never changed once set. No one could stop him, not even his mother. 

And his mother gave Lorenzo the shivers. She was tough, a disciplinarian, and extremely strict with her children. She wasn’t warm, hiring a governess and a nanny instead of a maid. Instead, preferring to do it herself. 

Lorenzo always had a slightly more bendable determination, a willingness to change if it was incredibly difficult. 

He sneaked a glance at Giuseppe. 

Giuseppe confessed. “He’s bullied all the time in Paris, for, well, everything. His background, his lack of family connections and, of course, his grades.” 

“I do well. It doesn’t help that most of them are so pompous and conceited that they think their family name is enough to get them through the military,” Napoleone yelled. “I still don’t understand why we’re following these idiots when they barely pay any attention.” 

But deep down, even he knew that there were limits imposed on him no matter how hard he worked. It was a desire for him to create another world that rewarded him for his genius instead. Though, with the way things were, it was almost impossible. 

Perhaps he might be in Revoa or in Britain. Both were places where he could make his own way, was accepted. But not here, on the continent, where blood ruled. 

Giuseppe was content with the world. But he and Napoleone were not. 

Lorenzo simply realised the oddness of it all. That he had chucked it aside. He wanted to do so, so that he could reject it. 

“The Marquis is calling for you.” Gennaro looked. They had to go down now. 

Lorenzo got up. But before that. “I have to thank you for making me say something that I don’t think I would have said otherwise.” 

“Because your father would only question you.” 

Lorenzo didn’t answer the question, but perhaps he didn’t want to admit it either. Or he didn’t realize it was only possible if Napoleone forced it out of him. 

“I don’t think so. I think you made him realise something.” Giuseppe communicated better. 

“Yes, thank you, Giuseppe. I’m not too good at words.” He smiled at him. 

“I get it, it’s difficult since even Zio Cosimo is very traditional. They both accept the world in a way that we both have not.” 

Napoleone was right, they both have not. 

“On the flip side, it could be because their realities is something that they’re used to. They have chosen this future, and they don’t want to see it all fade away. To have their hard work all erased.” Lorenzo could see it from the opposite end. 

“I think we should really get going.” 

They both didn’t say anymore but went downstairs.