LucianI found my father in his private study, seated behind the large oak desk with a stack of documents arranged neatly before him. Magnus had always preferred quiet rooms and carefully planned conversations, which was probably why I usually avoided visiting him unless necessary. Unfortunately, he had sent for me twice that morning, and ignoring the second message would only give him another reason to complain about my lack of responsibility.“You sent for me, Father,” I said, dropping into the chair opposite his desk. “I hope someone hasn't died. I haven't had time to prepare a suitable expression of grief.”Magnus looked up from his papers, unimpressed by my attempt at humour. “You could try taking something seriously for once, Lucian.”“I take many things seriously. Food, sleep, and the quality of wine served at council gatherings, for example.”“Your cousin's responsibilities are not a joke.”I leaned back, already regretti
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