The Roschild estate was so big it felt like a little town, and at its center stood the Lancaster family mansion, a proud part of the famous Roschild family tree. While the Lancaster house had its own charm, with pale walls covered in bright ivy and tall windows sparkling under the moonlight, it didn't quite measure up to the showiness of the main villa where Leo lived. The iron gates displayed the Lancaster crest, a simpler version of the well-known Roschild emblem. The garden was so perfectly kept it felt more like a gallery than a cozy backyard, especially when compared to the lively grounds of the main villa.
Inside, the place felt tense. The mansion, designed to showcase power and status, was anything but welcoming. Shiny marble floors were sprawled beneath fancy rugs, while stern portraits of ancestors hung on the walls, watching everyone with intimidating stares. The air was thick with the musty smell of old books and polished metal, adding to the heavy vibe of the house.
In his father's private study, Artur sat stiffly in a chair, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. The room was lined with tall bookshelves and dominated by a large, dark wooden desk. A single lamp flickered softly, casting shadows that danced across the books and maps, creating an atmosphere heavy with unspoken thoughts.
His father, an imposing figure, radiated authority. Streaks of gray had begun to appear in his formerly blonde hair, and his short beard framed a face marked by determination. His cold, steely golden eyes—like Artur's—held a sharp, calculating look, suggesting hidden plans. A similar spark of something dangerous glinted in Artur's gaze.
As silence stretched between them, Artur finally spoke up.
"Father," he began, his voice steady but low.
"The main family has suffered a great loss. We need to decide what to do next. Do we stay loyal to a doomed cause, or… you understand what I mean."
His father nodded slowly, recognizing the seriousness of the moment.
"It truly is a significant loss," he replied, his voice precise. "Have you talked to the young master? Have you paid your respects at the main villa?"
Just thinking about Leo ignited a flash of intense hatred in Artur, momentarily breaking his calm exterior. But he quickly regained his composure and shook his head.
"No, I can't face him tonight. I'll visit tomorrow morning."
Inside, he felt a dark thrill rising. It was hard to believe that his long-held wish—to see Leo humbled—was finally becoming a reality. It seemed like fate was finally on his side.
With a feeling of creeping satisfaction, he thought, Maybe the mysterious forces of the universe are with me. I must be destined for greatness.
"Let's hold off on our next move until after the Blessing Ceremony," Artur's father suggested, his eyes shining with ambition. "I have a feeling you will awaken a powerful gift—maybe even something truly extraordinary. That could raise our family's status and help us gain a place alongside the main branch."
Living in this offshoot of the family felt like being in a shadow, and his father believed they deserved the power and prestige of the main family, not stuck in their shadow. Although his own fire-related abilities were impressive, they weren't enough to change their fortunes. He was convinced that Artur would surpass him greatly.
The idea of Artur developing an extraordinary gift filled his father with excitement. Such a breakthrough could change everything.
"I understand, Father," Artur replied, confidence in his voice. "We will wait."
In his mind, this plan seemed perfect. He imagined the ceremony as a chance to overshadow Leo completely, pushing his rival further into despair. He wanted Rina to regret her choice, to see that she had picked the wrong man. Just picturing her kneeling and pleading for his forgiveness sent a thrilling shiver down his spine. The thought was intoxicating.
Thus, in that sturdy study, father and son remained silent, each spinning their own webs of ambition and plotting.
"I will awaken a great gift, even if it means taking down the main family," Artur thought to himself.
In this moment, the best way to describe him was as a snake, lurking in the darkness, ready to strike at its prey.