Lorenzo glanced outside at the city of Parma. Cecelia looked all over it. 

He was waiting for someone, Gennaro, to make his appearance. “Signore, it is done.” 

He put a hand over his heart. “Is that the Signorina’s work?” 

He asked. 

“Yes, I hope you can keep this quiet.” 

“I read her work. It’s very moving.” Gennaro joked. “But yes, I will do so. As a thank you for everything.” 

“I’m glad that you got it.” He smiled. 

“I wonder, why do you bother with it this much?” He asked. “Why do you feel a need to ask me?” 

“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s knowing my own dreams can’t be heard. But it would be happy if I could help others do it.” He knew they were impossible. Or they were hard. “And I hate it when others don’t have time to fulfill them at all.” 

It didn’t matter, but he felt for Gennaro. It was personal when he did it. 

“But is yours all that difficult?” He asked. 

“Yes, how should I put it? I want to change the world.” He looked on with conviction. 

“That sounds like an impossible dream, and yet, you’re in the best position to remake the world.” He looked. “You have a lot of power.” 

Lorenzo looked, though he knew that wasn’t the case. Most of their abilities laid with the Duke of Parma. 

“Among nobles, there are kings. Here I cannot decide. The power I seek can only come from a being a reigning monarch.” He admitted to him. “But perhaps I can persuade the Duke to follow my ideas.” 

But even that sounded weak. He knew that this was a tiny duchy; it wasn’t the entire world. Far from it. He was inadequate, and his own plan sounded weak. 

“I see,” Gennaro said. “But you have to start from somewhere. Just like my parents said. When you sow the seeds, it takes a while to grow. The ending will be beautiful, but you’ll have to work hard to cultivate before that. Then you’ll have a bountiful harvest.” 

Gennaro told him a truth that he had to hear. 

He turned around with a smile. “You’re right, I have to start from somewhere.” 

Before Lorenzo turned back and got up. Cecelia’s eyes were glued to the street before them. 

They had insisted on going first, to the confusion of their cousin, Antonia. But he needed to do this. 

“I’ll restart it.” He whispered before disappearing. 

Then he took a seat opposite her. 

She turned around. “You’re back.” 

Cecelia intimately knew why he had left. 

“So, what did you see that got you so engrossed?” He asked his sister. 

“The life of a commoner.” Cecelia turned around to meet her brother’s eyes. “It’s strange, isn’t it we seek what we cannot have? As much as I know, they will give up everything just to be in my place?”

“Indeed, that is right, they would,” he said, looking at them. “Its odd, isn’t it? They’re chained by their limitations to get food, and must work as much as they can to starvation, while we’re chained by the expectations that come of being of a noble house. One is at least allowed to grumble, but why can’t we?” 

He was grateful to not be born a peasant, and never allowed to read. But it was odd. 

“Yes, I think I’m glad that I wasn't born somewhere else. But is that why you want to change it?” 

“It’s a sorry state of affairs,” he said. “But I want to see if there is another way.” 

“Is this why you shipped that poem?” She asked. 

“No, I did it for you because you’re my sister, and no matter what. I don’t think you shouldn’t have the chance to see your dreams come true.” He looked. “Even if mine may never be.”

“Don’t say that. You already did so much for me. After that, I think I have faith. I know you can.” Cecelia protested. “I dream of a world these days where I am free to pursue them. Where I don’t think I’m forced to do it. I’m only able to experience them slowly and only with your help.” 

“But you’ll be able to act for yourself.” 

“Not in this world. Only if I choose a supportive husband.” She opened the fan, hiding her own expression. 

Even he couldn’t assure Cecelia’s dreams. He could only give fleeting moments of it. Seeing them all smile it would make this so much easier. 

He was naïve as they went by. But Gennaro was right. The seeds must be sowed, and he will see the results. 

They stopped. Lorenzo’s mind had to remind himself that he was supposed to dance today, instead of keeping his mind on what he could do. He had to shake it off, even if he was frankly terrible at dancing. But he got out, helping her down. 

Antonia gave him a raised eyebrow. “So, something on your mind again? Or are you nervous?” 

“Something on my mind.” He asked. 

“Well, I guess I should take over for tonight. Besides, I was planning to do so, so that you may find someone that catches your eye.” Antonia gave a smile before putting an arm over Cecelia. 

She was a little shorter than Cecelia, plumper too, already a mother of two children. Her hair was blonde though today powdered white, piled up high and tall, dressed in a gown of pale pink, with dark brown eyes. While he trailed behind them until he was in. 

Antonia was serious, as though worried that he couldn’t do his job. But she led him away with a wink. 

Lorenzo knew who was coming. It was her rakish husband. He had always been fond of speaking about his many escapades, and in the first letter that he came back with was asking whether he had become a man. If not, he had a brothel that could seal the deal. 

He was too embarrassed to answer the question, and he didn’t wish for his first time to be with a prostitute who was only there because he paid her. 

Then Antonia’s husband, Francesco, appeared. “You should try to find someone, put your parents’ mind at ease about the succession and assure them. I can show you a few tricks.” 

He was quite a charmer, and able to sweeten them. But Lorenzo thought about it. How he didn’t exactly think it would work for him. 

“So, what do you seek from partner? Obedience, spiritedness or who shares your intellectual pursuits,” he said. 

“Neither,” he said. “I’ll have neither, thank you very much. Just let me do it.” 

Francesco looked before patting him on the back. “Take it easy and let your natural suaveness do the trick. Your wealth would handle the rest.” 

He was nervous, but it couldn’t be too hard. 

“Also, do you need me to find an older woman for you? Or is it because you desire that first time to especial?” 

“What?” He asked. 

“I think it’s the latter. You’re too sentimental to not want that. A woman wants a man who knows what he is doing in bed, but you want to fall in love first before giving yourself away. You’ll need as much practice as possible. You could have an affair if being with a prostitute, as you feel, is not true to yourself, perhaps with a charming older lady looking like a lover. I even know just the right person.” 

Francesco was already giving a wink. “Her, with the old man as her husband. He’s never going to fulfill her at all. She’s more a nurse than a wife. And she won’t tell.”

He looked at a woman a few years older than he was. Her gown was a deep vivid red, with the prettiest green eyes, reminding him of grass. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t go through it. Just what were you doing with your friend?” 

“Talking, speaking, he never thought about brothels or even spoke about them.” Placido never needed it at all, and Lorenzo always had other ideas. 

Francesco gaped. “So, you both went to the city with the loosest morals and did nothing there?” 

“Yes, I was more interested in the intellectual circles.” He looked. “I mean, all nobles are debauched everywhere.” 

Francesco picked up his call card from his pocket. Lorenzo was reaching to grab it back. But he was faster, being a soldier. 

He jotted down a name. “Dance with her at least once. You both have a lot in common.” 

And there, he could see that she was the Baroness of Florgamo, and Francesco going over. He was ready to bury his hands right in his face. But he still went to dance with her, but he would not do so.