The door swung shut behind him, sealing Veer inside his study. The room was a mirror of its owner: sleek, minimalist furniture, walls lined with carefully curated books, and a single, large holographic display humming with a live stream of global economic data. Veer settled into the leather chair behind his desk and waited.
It wasn't long before the door opened again. A man in a perfectly tailored uniform entered—Javed, the family's trusted butler. Calm, poised, and sharp-eyed, Javed had witnessed generations of family secrets. He bowed respectfully, awaiting orders.
"Javed," Veer began, his voice slicing through the stillness of the study. "Have you read The Dragon's Compass?"
For a moment, Javed's impeccable composure faltered. He recovered quickly. "Yes, sir."
"Can your son take care of him?" Veer asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Javed's calm veneer cracked. He stammered, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Sir… you mean… the legend? The one from the book? He's… but…"
Veer's gaze sharpened, impatience radiating from him. "Can he, or not?"
Straightening, Javed's voice took on a quiet certainty born of pride. "He can, sir. His nature is playful and curious, which allows him to approach this with a lightness others cannot. Yet he is also serious about his duties. He will take care of him."
"Good. Call him," Veer commanded, leaving no room for argument.
The study fell silent once more as Javed bowed and exited. He instructed a passing maid to summon his son, and as she hurried away, he remained still, mind reeling. Pride and apprehension warred within him. His son had been entrusted with a monumental task—a role demanding both playful curiosity and lethal seriousness. In this game of giants, his piece suddenly felt more vital than any other.
Veer, meanwhile, moved with calculated precision. He picked up a secure line connecting to the family's financial division.
"What can I do for you, sir?" a firm, no-nonsense voice answered.
"How much money can you move without it being detected?" Veer asked, crisp and to the point.
A brief pause, then a low chuckle. "At least a trillion," the voice said, nonchalant, as if such sums were routine.
"Good. Prepare it and send me the details," Veer ordered, cutting the connection without another word.
Standing, he walked to the large window, surveying the sprawling estate below. Domed towers gleamed in the sunlight, modern glass structures blending seamlessly with ancient stonework. The family's domain—perfectly maintained, precisely controlled—was now a stage for the legend's return.
Veer's eyes narrowed as he took it all in, already calculating the moves to come.
A few moments later, a young man in his mid-twenties hurried down the hall, approaching the butler.
"What's the matter, Dad?" he asked, concern threading his voice.
Javed placed a firm, steadying hand on his son's shoulder. "Aryan," he said, voice low and confidential, "the family head has a task for you. Whatever he says inside—not a word is to leave this room. Follow his orders to the letter. Not a single mistake."
Aryan's curiosity shifted into a serious expression. "What do you mean, Dad? What's going on?"
"Just follow the orders efficiently and without question," Javed replied, eyes sharp with warning.
With that, Javed turned and pushed open the doors to the study. Inside, Veer stood with his back to them, gazing out at the sprawling estate. He turned at the sound of the door closing, his eyes immediately assessing Aryan.
Aryan performed a respectful half-bow, a gesture drilled into him since childhood.
"Greetings, Family Head," he said.
Veer nodded slightly, his gaze holding the young man. He offered no smile, no greeting—his silence a command in itself. Closing the distance between them, Veer's footsteps were silent on the thick carpet, his eyes still cold and assessing.
"Have you told him anything?" Veer asked, his voice quiet yet commanding.
"No, sir," Javed replied firmly.
Veer simply nodded—a subtle gesture that carried the weight of absolute trust.
Aryan watched the exchange in stunned silence, his confusion growing. He had witnessed his father's quiet authority his whole life, but this was different. The silent understanding between the two men was a language he had never learned.
Then Veer's gaze landed on him. A wave of tension swept over Aryan, his posture stiffening under the full weight of the family head's presence. He felt completely exposed, face-to-face with a man who held the family—and the world—in his hand.
"There is a task for you," Veer said, his voice a low, controlled whisper, more intimidating than a shout. "I hope you can do it."
Aryan swallowed hard, his throat dry. "As… as you command, Family Head," he stammered, composure faltering.
"I trust you won't make any mistakes," Veer continued, calm yet final.
Curiosity, ingrained from a lifetime of service, overcame Aryan's fear. "What is the task?" he asked softly.
Veer's lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. "Nothing much. You just need to take care of a person… for a time."
The weight of those simple words hung in the air, heavier than any formal command. Aryan understood immediately: this was no ordinary person, and this was no ordinary task.
Veer's voice deepened, deliberate. "He has lost his memory. You are to follow his every order, though you may offer suggestions. Do not cross him in any way. And most importantly—no one must know of him. Not the other family members, nor the council elders."
Aryan's chest tightened, the gravity of responsibility settling on him. He nodded once, sharply, his resolve hardening. He had been entrusted with a secret that could tip the balance of power—and failure was not an option.