“Is there anything for me?” Annibale asked, desperately hoping for something that may save him or not. “I have to show something to my father.” 

Annibale had been here since the morning, and he was sitting in the ducal government. Talking with a friend of his father’s, though most of the department were met with men of a similar age. And if not, they were often Austrian and German.

He could hear the words they spoke and understood them. He always had a knack for languages, and he lived within the Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia.

The man, Signor Ferrante, gave a sign to him. “I tried, Annibale, I tried anything and everything. As did your father. But if you’re not Austrian by birth, they look down on you.”

Though his father was convinced. He was deeply disappointed in himself for failing to secure anything again.

“I know, but my father just won’t face up the truth. I’m not meant for this, and I can’t let him down.” He had to admit. He didn’t know how he could find it in himself to go back.

“Come on, I’ll take a break. Besides, most people here are endlessly waiting. The orders have to be sent back to Vienna, and if they come back, then we’ll have to something to do. But that requires two weeks.”

“Don’t they come back often?”

“We’re all obeying the orders of a single man, the Emperor. He has the entire empire to make all the decisions, so we end up just writing report after report, and most of them will never see the light of day once they get sent on their journey.” He took his coat. Most of the men barely even looked at him as he had left to see him. “I don’t think you’re missing anything.”

“You’re just telling me this to make me feel better.”

“I think you deserve to know what you’re tying yourself to. I barely feel good about the situation I’m in either. And I don’t think you’ll enjoy it any better.” He held his hand. “Remember what Emiliano told you.”

Emiliano had been his fourth son, and the one who had departed. He was envious, but even then, he wanted to go with him. But to make his father happy, he did not.

“Emiliano had something to tell you. He’s in Switzerland now, truly free. I think with no opportunity, consider it. Or the Kingdom of Piedmont-Sardinia. Your father is a man of that came with the Napoleonic Kingdom of Italy. Not the case here. They kept him around for his efficiency.”

“How do I even begin?” He asked.

“That is only something that you have to figure out, but think hard. Are you going to hope for an opportunity that doesn’t seem likely to come or to create it?” He asked.

Annibale always preferred the latter.

“You got to become your own man, especially in these hard times.” He looked at him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t feel upset or depressed that it happened. I was happy.”

“Be happy. They spare you the drudgery I call my job. From an empire that still believes this is thirty years ago and that one man can rule it all. Even though we spend more time smoothing over his policies and all the problems arising instead of anything else.” He looked at him.

Then, a secretary came in. A young man, who's named Willem. Someone who was fresh a year ago, and polite to him.

“Before I go, Emiliano wanted to give you this.”

Annibale nodded and went to look at it. They shared childhood dreams, but his own father had already crushed him. And he found it difficult to believe in himself again. And the doubts make it hard for him to think so. His mother did it in a way so that he would figure it out, but his father had a narrow, specific view of success.

“Ah, yes, thank you. I’ll be back in a moment.” Before Signor Ferrante walked out. “I’ll see you soon, Signor La Scala.”

The man only gave him a condescending look before leaving. He stashed the note in his pocket.

Annibale chafed at the thought. Two years and he still had nothing, done nothing and shown nothing. It hurt him. He thought about it, realising he had enough.

He went to see his footman, Ezio, who glanced at him. “No news again.”

Ezio’s family needed the income, and with sons of noblemen like him kicked to the curb and out of civil service in their own lands, Ezio was as much so.

“I’ve had enough,” he said, telling him. “This is my third time I’ve tried. I’m so sick of it, and I want to try something else.”

“Well, if you have to come back next year, then that’s just irrational.”

“Knowing my father, yes. But I don’t want him to beggar my sister’s dowry just so he could put me through school,” he said. “Although Aurelia will grin at it so happily. But I hate that.”

“So, what will you do then?”

He still hasn’t looked at the note that Emiliano gave him, someone who went off the path to seek his fortune. This was Signor Ferrante’s fourth son, and he was a lot more mellow about him than say his eldest. Inside, Emiliano planted tickets and perhaps an opportunity. A grand venture in Switzerland. He could speak Swiss German, French and Italian was his language as well.

Unfortunately, for everyone, Annibale was the eldest. But he had enough. There has been little useful work since the fall of Napoleon, and he was just born when it happened. His permanent downfall came when he was three years old.

He was chasing a position that hasn’t existed his whole life, and his father only held onto his position because of his usefulness and being placed in an excellent position when they came to take back their lands.

But when he was young, he always sought to find his fortune elsewhere, and they convinced him he would get it at long last.

“I will talk to my father. I think we need to now. But first, time for me to go home.”

Ezio nodded and took him home with a hint of a smile on his face.