"Eighty-three percent," read out the Duke of Elfedon as his eyes skimmed through the sheet in his grasp.
With his hazel golden purple lowered to the petit figure seated opposite his desk, Duke Benjamin placed the parchment on the wooden surface.
"This is the poorest you've ever gotten in your economics assessment, darling? What happened?"
Six years old Sylteena, who had her mismatched eyes fixed on him, slowly lowered her gaze as she crossed her arms with a pout. "The governess is poorly skilled."
"Hm?" He crooked his head, "Is the excuse you decided to use to defend your mistakes this time? Meaning you had no fault whatsoever?"
Sylteena's gaze could not meet his as her shoulders then slumped, lowering her head. "... No, Papa..."
"Good girl," he smiled, picking up the textbook next to him. "And what do I always say about economics?"
"A leader must possess a profound understanding of economics to govern effectively."
