THE BOY WHO COULD BEAR AN HEIR
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A few seconds later, she gestured for Zaylien to enter.
The Chancellor, an older man with gray hair and sharp glasses, sat behind a mahogany desk. At first, his voice was casual.
“Welcome, welcome. Please, sit down.”
But then Zaylien’s name fully registered in his mind. His eyes widened slightly, and he stood up, clearing his throat.
“Ah… Mr. Kinsley Zaylien, welcome indeed. You are most welcome here.” His tone shifted instantly, more respectful, more careful.
Zaylien gave a small bow before taking the seat.
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