The porcelain rattled as Mariana slammed her hand against the table, startling a few birds in the hedges. Her father, however, remained unshaken. He leisurely sipped from his teacup, savoring the aroma as if his daughter's anger were nothing more than background noise. They sat together under the stone pavilion in the garden, sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting shifting shadows across the table where biscuits and tea lay untouched.
"Father, you cannot be serious!" Mariana's voice cracked with both disbelief and fury. "Even if you wanted a successor, why in Asmethan's name would you choose him? Luther is still a boy! He deserves a chance at life, not to be shackled by your schemes!"
The old man's lips twitched into the faintest smirk as he set his cup down. "Schemes, you say? No, Mariana. Asmethan himself appeared through him. That is no accident, no matter what you would like to believe."
