"And throw it onto the floor. Shriek. Tell me it is garbage. Tell me you desire a... a hippogriff. Demand that I fetch you a mythical beast immediately."
Seraphina stared at him.
She looked at the plate.
She looked back at Kaelus.
Her mind tried to understand the Reaper of the North.
'Is this a test? Is he testing my manners? Did the smog finally melt his brain? Why is he actively encouraging me to act like the soot-gremlin across the table?'
"But... the plate is nice," Seraphina reasoned cautiously, trying to navigate the minefield. "And if I throw it, it will break. And then the maid will have to clean it up. The maids here look very tired, Papa. I don't want to make them sweep up chicken."
It was the most mature, responsible answer a child could give.
It was a devastating, critical failure for Kaelus.
The Archduke slumped back in his chair, utterly defeated.
His massive shoulders dropped.
