"Father, have you called for me?" Lucian's voice was hesitant yet steady as he stepped into the office, his large frame filling the doorway.
The door had been left ajar, and through the gap, he'd seen his father engrossed in a stack of documents on his desk.
Count Velmar glanced up, his sharp blue eyes meeting Lucian's. His neatly trimmed beard framed a face that seemed to always wear a faint scowl, a permanent mark of his austere personality. "Yes, Lucian, come in," he said, gesturing toward a chair.
Lucian shuffled forward, his steps heavy and deliberate. Despite his young age of seven, his weight and height gave him a presence that was hard to ignore.
At 38 kilograms and standing at 122 centimeters, his body carried an evident layer of fat that stretched the buttons on his tailored vest, especially over his rounded belly.
His clothes, meant to fit snugly, seemed to protest against the strain.
