9th May 1563

Annibale took a moment to find Baldassare, one of the first friends he made back when he was in a school in Helseen. A prestigious private institution for sons of rich families, with a sister schools for girls.

They shared plenty, but there was a distance, for Baldassare was slightly older than Annibale, sharing few classes other than their common interest in wine.

There was an interest in his coming here, apart from it keeping Annibale out of the office. He had taken sometime to just read books he slated to read but never got to it last year. Now, he dedicated more time to his own interest.

“You seem cheery,” Baldassare said, looking at him with a grin, he had finally went through with his promise that he went forward.

He chuckled. “I agreed to going to Nexia with Emiliano, so I guess why not for this exhibition even as I’m part of the club, but I have not made any confirmations to come.”

“Are you going through a hard time?” Baldassare asked, since Annibale almost never did much of leisure.

Annibale adjusted his cravat. “So far, I don’t know what to do next. And I don’t think that randomly investing is the best method to increase my fortune.”

“It’s the best way to say goodbye to most of it,” Baldassare said. “So, you’re coming here to find more things to care about?”

“It’s to clear my head, which is something that I think I needed. Anything more that I can help with. I’m up for anything, really.”

“There’s an exhibition soon. I heard that most of the visitors are from Erandel,” he said. “It’s about the Rovians. But honestly, if they’re not about the Rovians, there’s no point in coming to Itoro.”

“There’s the revolution,” he said.

The revolution had a huge impact on everyone in the continent, more recent in their minds.

The Rovians had a similar effect, but too far from their reality to understand, for it was close to the beginning of their civilization for most of the continent.

Only the Deoliks was older than the Rovians.

“Yes, but Erandians hate the speaking of the revolution,” Baldassare said, incredulous.

The Erandels were known for their hatred of the revolutionaries, known for their staunch conservatism, preserving tradition and one of the only countries that stayed the same after the war.

Though, in most Itorians’ memory, for fighting and financing in every single coalition against the Rancien empire.

“I forgot.” He gave a slight smile. “Well, I mean, I do little business with them. Probably due to us cutting them out of the continent, something that even when it loosened helped little.”

“Yes, but they are coming here, with a wish to have a tour of the museun,” Baldassare said.

“And that’s a lot less common than getting visitors from Rancie due to the distance,” Annibale said.

Because of the distance between Itoro and Erandel was greater than that of Itoro and Rancie, needing to go through Rancie, with a further

They came inside, a building which formed part of the museum.

“But most of it here is for the revolution,” he observed the layouts, and seeing how it didn’t add up.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I’m not some historian, which is something that I may consider to do.”

He helped his father out besides the university, where all young men went when it was time if they had the money and connections to, and didn’t have any major duties.

Annibale was the exception, for he never had the pressure or felt the desire to enter university.

There was someone else, a woman with deep amber eyes, and brown hair. “This is a special interest group, they are actually asking about the revolution. They have seen it in Racine.”

Annibale made no comments.

“Now, that’s new,” Baldassare commented.

“Where did she go?” Annibale asked at the missing girl that was here a moment ago.

He gave a shrug. “But there are a lot more artefacts than the Rovians.”

Annibale gave him a slight stare. “I’m sure it’s a lot easier to get them, Just get any random grandparent and you’ll find something of old they had when the revolution came.”

He had stopped, only to see the familiar face. “So, we meet again.”

It also explained her own understanding of the people coming here.

The young woman looked at him with her amber eyes, smiling, not happiness but curiosity. “May I know your name, Signore?”

“And this is Gemma Serra, daughter of Signore Serra, for the past few months, she took over for her father once he couldn’t stand for long hours anymore,” Baldassare explained just who she was.

“Annibale de Moreni,” he said.

“Well, Don Annibale, I have a volume that is owned or written by your family. Thought I had it when I saw the signet ring.” Annibale wore a signet ring, which was always on his mother’s index finger, and precisely

“I’m interested to see who you think it is,” he said, folding his arms. She gave a smile, turning back, finding the book.

She turned around, putting the book right before anything. “This is the book I’m talking about. Since you’re related to this unfortunate man, from the surnames, and he signed himself as the Marquis of Stressa..”

The cover had nothing on it, Annibale opened the book, which contained treatises about the revolution, favorable to the idea of Itoro.

He turned to face the girl.“Where do you come from, if I may presume?”

“A relatively poor girl who has no other choice other than to sell, but t. you’ll love it if you love the revolution,” she said.

Annibale raised his eyeb

This book is a special edition containing all the essays he wrote championing the revolution.”

Her words made him he needed this. “I’ll take it.”

“It would cost you fifty lire to buy the book, Signore,” she said, more than what he would expect. “A pure original, nothing quite like it. In fact, acquiring this piece was difficult.”

He looked at it, with only the scantest of memory regarding just how his handwriting looked like. But his mother had shown him the signature a few times, mostly through his granduncle. But the dates were all right, and hence nothing else could be wrong.

“Where did you get it from?”

“Well, it came from a private library. A wealthy patron, offered this book to me, an edition, not the broken up treatises he wrote and published separately,” she said. “And of course, I had to outbid the rest, for this would be quite the prize here.”

And hence, if Annibale didn’t act now, she will sell it to someone else. Gemma was skilled at it, at the art of selling and persuading. Annibale didn’t know what drew him to this. His mother liked to tell him much about the revolution, but this was about his grandfather.

In the past few years, he mostly ignored the revolution. The school in Helseen focused on what came before. since there was so much content to cover, that no one could blame them. However, they had a rather equal approach, neither deriding nor glorifying any part of history.

Annibale weighed his options and took out the money.

Gemma took it with both hands. “I appreciate doing business with you, let’s do this again, next time.”

Above all, it was his own curiosity. His mother never told him anything about where they were during the revolution, she rarely spoke at all about what it was like for her or even for her grandfather.

He did want to leave, but he still wanted to know. “Can you tell me a little about where you got it from?”

“Turn a page behind, that’s the publisher, and well, it was a woman by the name of Signora Baldoleto,” she said. He followed her instructions, just a little more.

“I see, thank you,” he said.

“Pleasure doing business with you, would you like if I give you a head up whenever I get anything regarding Lorenzo de Moreni?” She asked.

“Where would I go?” He asked.

“I just need your address and I’ll send you a letter if I hear of anything,” she said, flipping to the end of the book, the rest of the pages filled with names.

“You’re quite enterprising,” he said.

“Thank you and enjoy reading your book.” Gemma raised her hand, and a bright smile, thanking him for helping her.

“Seriously, you just bought a book because the author shared your name?” Baldassare looked at his friend in curiosity. It was unexpected, given how rational Annibale was and how Annibale didn’t remember the need to keep such a legacy. And how he never seemed to bother this much.

“Yeah,” he said. “I actually don’t know a lot about my family.”

“Your parents never told you?” Baldassare didn’t know this all too well, for he grew up in a family that told stories.

“Whenever I speak with my father, he just takes me on a delightful trip away, usually fishing, and I forget all about it. As for my mother, the less said the better. Sometimes, I wonder whether the only person who I can go to for this is my granduncle.”

He knew who he had to approach eventually, for this to work so far too. He opened it, a book talking about the revolution, and in the beginning, it seemed to go into a lengthy piece just talking about the tyranny they put up with. Even if for centuries, it was the way things were.

All it just changed was that almost all their local Itorian dynasties died out, apart from the Kingdom of Possemare, leaving only foreign countries and dynasties to dominate the peninsula.

Baldassare had left, straight to the next booth, while Annibale was far more taken with the book, he wanted to read it. And then he lost his friend.

Then, he moved to the side, bumping into a friendly couple who gave him an eager smile. The man said he was perhaps a decade older than Annibale. On his hand was a woman a few years younger than him.

“Signor de Moreni,” he said. Annibale gave a slight smile.

“Please call me Mr Craven,” he said. “Do you have a title?”

“I do, but I use it even less than that. It fell to me after my mother died, I’m the Marchese de Stressa.” Annibale didn’t like it, neither did his mother.

“In Erandel your title matters so much. But to not be decided by who you are and who were your parents, can be liberating.” Baron Craven gave him a smile.

“Yes, I find it easier to move around when I’m just plain Annibale de Moreni,” he said. And this was something that he knew too. “So, what draws your interest here?”

“We’re going to be here for at least a month or two, before summer heats and we’ll be heading north for our honeymoon,” the baroness said, a woman with light red hair, and hazel eyes.

Mr Craven nodded. “It’s intriguing to see the revolution in a different light, more than how it was told back home.”

Annibale gave a smile. His feelings on it were simply that. “Well, it’s favourable, but I went to Helseen for school.”

“How is it you’re taught this?” Mr Craven asked.

“It was an unfortunate occasion, in terms of the suffering, but it pushed for a unified Itoro, one that didn’t lie under the control of any foreign power,” he said.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s interesting to think about the ability others can do to rise when they have nothing more than the shared dream that they seek a better future.”

They walked away, now leaving him alone.

Baldassare came right back with an extra book, observing how Annibale didn’t make a single move.

“You’re not interested to continue.”

“I’m more interested with the book,” Annibale said. “I have a question. When was the time that the Ranciens came down to conquer Itoro?”

“1528, that was the first time that they entered Itoro, conquering most in their wake.” Baldassare looked at him. Annibale opened the book to a specific page. The date they printed this was a year earlier than the conquest.

Annibale turned the pages, opening the book. “They printed this in 1527.”

Baldassare took a moment to take it all in. “So, are you telling me that your grandfather was a revolutionary long before the revolution came down?”

“I honestly don’t know, but given this, it seems likely.” There were so few things that he knew about his grandfather, but he knew where to start. But first, before he even needed to check one thing.

“I think I have to go home. There is something first that I need to check there. It’s not guaranteed, since what I know about my grandparents is that they were portraits hung in the room,” he said.

“I’ll follow you,” he said, more than willing to follow.

He took the carriage right home, knowing that there was something he needed to go back home to find regarding the book. Or about his grandfather.

“Your house never ceases to amaze me,” he said. “Even if I only saw it a few times.”

Made of marble, with columns at the front, white with a respectable garden. One that his mother loved to walk around the house and loved

“They built the house two decades, so I guess they just went with what was popular,” he said, getting down from the carriage. This was rather common as a style, even as only those with money could do it.

“So, why are you joining me?”

“To get the chance to discover an actual piece of history, of course I would choose that,” he said. Annibale rolled his own eyes and moved. Inside, the parlour was on the first floor.

“I’ll get some refreshments,” he said. Annibale hung his coat, with only one place he wanted to go. The study which used to be his mother’s study, now it was Annibale’s. His father taking just another table if he was around, which he was for a few months of a year. Most of the time, he was away.

He was looking for a book, or anything about his grandfather in here. There wasn’t much of a conversation about the man, even less when to anything else.

A curiosity to learn about him, and as it seemed, there was more to him than just what was true. Francesca, his maid, came right into the room. “So, what are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for a book, about anything regarding Lorenzo de Moreni, who is my grandfather,” he said.

“If there is anything, there isn’t regarding him,” she said. That was a disappointment, but one that they could take. He would go back down there, unless he could try to see where it came from. That could work, and then he could continue.

He could feel a certain interest in it, going down the steps of his house to join Baldassare. “So, what did you find?”

“Nothing much, other than you confirmed that he was likely a revolutionary,” he said. “However, I can know more, if I go to the right page.”

He opened the book till it reached a certain page where the publisher was. There was an address, and a company named Libro Attico.

“There’s an address, that I can probably send a letter to.”

“Didn’t know that you could do that?” Baldassare asked.

Annibale shrugged. “It’s an inquiry, they wouldn’t mind. I run a business, and customers have been far more direct with me than just sending a letter. It’s just that it’s the best way, to find out who did it and how they got their hands on the book.”

“I guess, I’m up for the journey, if you need me,” he said.

“I’ll tell you once I get a reply,” Annibale said.

“Sounds good to me,” Baldassare said. “I have work to do, I need to leave.”

Annibale nodded, giving a wave as his friend fetched his coat before leaving the house.