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“How glad I am to see you, your honor,” says a slightly feverish Federico, when the guardia march him into the receiving hall of the ruler of Florence. “Oh, how long have been these twenty years, as I travelled all Asia at the behest of your lordship’s curiosity. But I have returned, with the truth clutched in my fist!” He brandishes a tiny crystal bottle. “Though my companions perished, though the journey left me divorced and bankrupt, I return to you with the essence you requested: the source of scent!”

“I said ‘some sort of sense,'” says Lorenzo.

“What?” says Federico.