A fragrant wisp of jasmine steam rose from the celadon cup as the two hours began.
Kaelen sat with his back propped against the star-iron doorframe, his cloth slippers resting on a shattered bronze gear.
The void wind outside the Outer Ash Gate whistled softly through the cracked balustrades.
Deacon Vane tiptoed over from his travel desk, carrying the copper kettle with extreme care.
“More hot water, Young Master?” Vane whispered obsequiously, refilling Kaelen’s cup to the brim. “If all three ladies achieve Sovereign Dao Early, House Vance will control four sovereign voting shares in the Upper Firmament. In the history of the six realms, no mortal clan has ever held four sovereign seats simultaneously.”
“That sounds like a terrible amount of committee meetings, Deacon,” Kaelen murmured, blowing gently across the surface of the tea. “Four voting shares just means four times as many invitations to boring banquets. I will let Sera attend the meetings. She enjoys arguing about grain tariffs.”
“A formidable strategy,” Vane agreed, bobbing his head. “Lady Sera possesses an extraordinary talent for contractual intimidation.”
Behind them, deep inside the fire-vein cavern, the temperature soared to a blinding white heat.
