The air inside the Grand Cathedral was filled with a layer of white smoke.
It came from priceless deep-sea agarwood.
Incense stands stood one after another, and spices were thrown into the braziers without regard for cost.
Curling white smoke swirled beneath the dome, attempting with almost brute force to create an atmosphere of sacred solemnity that could not be profaned.
Selton knelt at the very front of the coffin, dressed in a well-tailored black mourning suit.
He was the focus of every gaze, and the duke's rightful heir.
A sea of black veils knelt before the coffin.
Duke Calvin had believed all his life in winning through sheer numbers, leaving behind nearly thirty children.
Now these dutiful children and grandchildren of impeccable bloodline lined up by age, a grand spectacle steeped in an absurdity that left one unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Sobs rose and fell, some genuine, some false.
Selton swept his gaze over them and quickly lost patience.
He turned his head slightly and asked the old steward beside him in a low voice, "The one who cried herself unconscious... who is she?"
The old steward followed his gaze, his expression pausing ever so subtly. "My lord, that is the fourteenth young lady."
"The fourteenth?" Selton raised an eyebrow slightly. "I remember she isn't even twelve yet?"
"Yes." The old steward lowered his voice further. "She actually... barely ever saw the old duke. The occasion was probably too overwhelming and frightened her."
Selton looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.
She cried out of fright, he sneered inwardly.
A child who could barely recognize her own father now had to kneel here, waiting for her share of the inheritance.
A pack of swine. I am the only rightful heir.
The funeral music