C429 Lorenzo's Melancholy

In late autumn, the morning dew in Florence was exceptionally cold.

De Medici sat by the window on the third floor of the Wild Rose Inn, flipping the pages by himself.

In front of him was a hot bowl of quail egg stewing fish soup - this was their signature dish. There was also a charcoal fire to heat it up, so there was no need to worry about it quickly cooling down.

On the stairs behind him