"Yeah, yeah, let him in," the grandmother waved her hand casually, picking up her tea again.
Samuel blinked. Youngest master? Now?
He turned his head toward the entrance of the hall, fully expecting to see a small child waddling through the doors, or perhaps a nervous, newly adopted teenager holding a servant's hand. He mentally prepared himself to look like a welcoming, fatherly figure.
Instead, the heavy wooden doors were pushed open, and a tall, fully grown, thirty-year-old man walked into the room.
The man was dressed in the pristine, conservative robes of a senior scholar. He had a fully grown beard, a mature face, and faint stress lines already forming around his eyes from years of studying for the grueling imperial exams. He was literally eight years older than Heena.
