The sun had barely risen over the rolling hills of Provence when the Ahir expedition forces reached the outskirts of the private estate. Raghav Ahir's team had spent weeks planning this approach—satellite mapping, drone surveillance, and encrypted communication ensured that every step minimized risk. But the closer they drew to the estate, the more palpable the tension became.
"Movement detected on the north perimeter," Arjun reported, his eyes scanning the live drone feed. "Highly trained operatives, tactical formations… this is professional work."
Raghav's gaze narrowed. "Of course. This isn't a hiding place for an ordinary man. Our son… he's built an army around him. Arion Kael is not just Aghav Ahir anymore. He's a force."
The expedition team advanced cautiously, using natural cover and silent signals. Kavita and Raghunath coordinated the cyber infiltration, ensuring that alarms would be bypassed and communications would remain secure. Meanwhile, Anjali and Vikram monitored alternate escape routes, prepared for any contingency.
And then, without warning, the first contact occurred. A patrolling mercenary, unaware of the intruders, triggered a silent sensor. Within seconds, Arion Kael's men—trained to near-perfection—responded. Shadows moved like living phantoms, encircling the Ahir team.
"Hold position!" Raghav commanded, his heart racing—not from fear, but from the knowledge that this was his son's world now.
From the center of the estate, a figure emerged—Arion Kael himself. His presence was magnetic, commanding, and unmistakably powerful. Cloaked in tactical black, he observed the intruders with sharp, calculating eyes. Every movement from the Ahir team was mirrored in his mind, predicting their next steps.
Raghav's breath caught. Time seemed to slow as father and son locked eyes for the first time in fifteen years. In that instant, all the plans, all the reconnaissance, all the years of waiting, collapsed into a single moment.
"Father?" Arion's voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that had grown over years of battle, strategy, and solitude. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of a dagger—a symbol of his readiness, and his authority.
Raghav swallowed hard. "Aghav… or Arion… I—" His voice faltered, the emotions of fifteen years threatening to overwhelm him.
Before words could bridge the chasm, the mercenary guild reacted. Tactical strikes, non-lethal traps, and rapid maneuvers surrounded the Ahir forces. The first skirmish erupted—not as a clash of families, but as a collision of precision-trained warriors on both sides.
Arjun and Kavita moved in synchronized coordination, neutralizing traps while shielding the younger operatives. Anjali used tactical distraction techniques to guide the team toward a temporary safe zone. Raghunath hacked into the guild's communications, trying to establish contact without escalating to lethal conflict.
Arion watched silently, impressed by their discipline and skill. For him, this was not just an intrusion—it was a test of the Ahir legacy, a measure of what his father and family had become during his absence.
The fight was intense but contained. Within the chaos, Raghav took the risk. He stepped forward, voice raised above the noise. "Arion! Stand down! It's your family!"
Arion's eyes flickered, a momentary crack in his composed façade. He signaled his men to hold, creating a tense, breath-held pause. The estate, the hills, the sun—it all seemed to wait for his decision.
The first contact had been made. The Ahirs had reached their son—but reunion and conflict now danced on the same knife's edge, each side aware that the next moments could decide not just the outcome of this encounter, but the bonds of family after fifteen long years.