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He liked the strong-willed leaders and the atmosphere in Milan, full of creativity and imagination.
Da Vinci began explaining the benefits of living in Milan, such as having more opportunities to be involved in theater planning, or perhaps meeting new painters and quickly figuring out some of the painting techniques that even dissection couldn’t explain.
Hedy, also feeling a bit carsick, listened drowsily and occasionally murmured in agreement.
She had grown accustomed to such conversations ever since she started working as his maid in his workshop.
Da Vinci’s thoughts always jumped from one idea to another, making endless associations and detours, and sometimes he would talk on without pause for quite a while.
“And you?” he suddenly asked.
“Me?” she rubbed her eyes, still struggling to catch up with the new topic. “What about me?”
“Where do you plan to settle in the future?” Da Vinci asked curiously. “Do you plan to continue serving the Medici family long-term?”
“Wait—” Hedy interrupted his question, then countered, “Why would you want me to come with you if you're planning to settle in Milan?”
“Because—” Da Vinci answered honestly, “A friend like you is hard to come by.”
“Someone who knows a little bit about almost everything and can find surprises in the smallest things.”
Many of Hedy's likes and interests were almost identical to Da Vinci's.
He yearned for a new life, yet he couldn't quite let go of this friend.
If she joined him, they could study even more things together, and when it came time for further dissections, she could help guide him.
Hedy, not giving a definite answer, continued to listen as he spoke about various rumors from different royal courts.
What she cared about were the rights to speak and to participate.
More than Milan's stronger military, Venice's development and stability, or Naples' prosperous trade, she valued her own role in shaping things.
Even if she could temporarily enjoy a life of luxury, without being able to influence strategic decisions or historical progress, the best life could easily be destroyed by an unforeseen event.
In this respect, Florence was the best choice.
The lord there would listen to her ideas and concerns, and his attitude was calm and clear-headed.
At this stage, he was the most beneficial collaborator for her.
In such a stagnant era, it was rare for a woman to have a voice,and even rarer to be involved in academic research and similar matters.
For her to have reached this point in just three years was a stroke of luck in an otherwise unlucky situation.
"By the way," Hedy snapped out of her drifting thoughts and looked at the young man plucking the strings of the lyre. "Atalante, what do you want to do in the future?"
"I don't know," the boy set down the instrument. "I might go to the painter's workshop as an apprentice, travel with Mr. Da Vinci to Milan, or try my luck in Venice—maybe become a singer."
"A singer?" Da Vinci chuckled and shook his head. "You're too late for that."
"Why?" The boy protested. "Sir, it only took me one day to learn that song you taught me, and Aunt Sofia even praised me for singing it well."
"That's not the issue," Da Vinci looked at the boy's slightly protruding Adam's apple. "You're too late for castration."
Hedy, drinking some wine from a small glass bottle, almost choked on the words.
"Cough, cough—What?!"
