Lucien padded down the stairs, reaching the ground floor of the large entrance hall.
Halting his steps, he raised his eyes to the late frames on the walls, slowly pulling his eyes over the painting of his great ancestry; from his grandfather, down to the founder and first king of Thembelo.
Gradually appropriating the old arts, his eyes slowly dragged to the wall above the large hall entrance.
Hanging on the wall was a frame—the largest of all—having a black cloth hung over it and completely covering the painting from view.
Lucien continued to stare at the black cloth, as if his eyes could pierce through them and view the picture perfectly.
He thrusted his hands into his pockets, not moving his gaze from the clothed painting.
"What a weird looking old man".
Lucien gazed over his sho
