As the conversation in the gazebo began, a new conflict was unfolding just outside the garden's doors.
"Sir, as I have already stated, you cannot enter this room today," the guard said, his voice a low, firm wall of authority.
The man arguing with him was a striking figure. He stood at five feet nine inches tall, dressed in a sharp, blue tailored suit that highlighted his elegant and noble features. He was arguing with the calm but unyielding guard, his polite demeanor barely concealing a rising frustration.
Beside him stood a woman of similar height. Her face was beautiful, her figure curvy and voluptuous beneath a stylish dress. She watched the exchange with a cool, detached impatience, a silent force adding to the pressure on the guards
"Just let us in, we'll only be in for a minute," the man said, his tone still polite but with a hardening edge. "We just want to see the scenery."
"I'm sorry, sir, but that wouldn't be possible now," the guard replied, his voice a firm wall of authority. "Only authorized persons are permitted to enter."
The woman's calm demeanor shattered. She stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a sudden, vicious anger. "Don't you know who he is?" she lashed out, gesturing to the man. "He can have you fired on the spot!"
The guard's gaze didn't waver. His voice, already low, dropped to a chilling whisper. "Losing my job is better than losing my life mam."
The young man watched the guard's face, a cold solemnity in his eyes. He knew his family's guards were fiercely loyal and would not let anyone through without permission, sometimes not even the council elders. This was a level of secrecy and protection he had never seen before. It finally hit him—his father had known he was coming here, and yet he had not warned him about anything like this.
He looked at the lady and spoke, his voice low and firm. "Let's just go. We'll come back at a later time. I don't think they'll be inside all day."
The woman's fiery anger was replaced by a sullen pout. "But..." she started to protest, but her words died in her throat as she saw the resolute expression on his face. "Okay," she conceded.
The young man turned back to the guard. The guard bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, young master."
"It's okay," the young man said, a rare hint of respect in his voice. "You're just doing your job."
The couple turned and made their way back down the hallway. The woman's posture was rigid, her anger a palpable force around her. The young man walked beside her, his expression still solemn as his mind raced. The quiet conversation and the chilling line from the guard had shaken him in a way a simple argument never could.
They passed by the security detail, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hall. They were leaving the private area, but the question of who was inside, and why they were so fiercely protected, lingered behind them like a ghost.
_____________________
Inside
Aryan took a deep breath, forcing the whirlwind of thoughts about the forbidden name and family lore out of his mind. He was a professional. He had a duty to perform. He carefully picked up the items from the table, his movements precise and respectful.
"The Family Head asked me to give you these," he said, his voice now back to its formal, clipped tone. He presented the items one by one.
First, he laid out a sleek, black wallet, an expensive, luxurious item. "This contains your new identity, sir. A full background that shows you as a normal civilian. All legal and with a clean history."
Next, he slid a thin, titanium bank card across the table. "This is a direct line to the family's assets. There is no limit, and it is untraceable. All you need to do is enter your thumbprint."
He then held up the intricate black badge with its golden inscription. For a moment, his hand hovered over the table, but he hesitated, pulling it back. He looked at the man's face, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He slowly placed the badge in his own pocket instead.
Finally, Aryan produced a small wooden box from his pocket. It was simple, unadorned, and looked ancient, a stark contrast to the modern items on the table. He laid it carefully in front of the others.
"And this was given to me to present to you," he said.
Anand's gaze fell on the small wooden box. He reached out, his curiosity piqued by the simple, unassuming container. The contrast between it and the modern, high-tech items was stark. He opened the lid with a gentle click.
Inside, nestled on a bed of dark velvet, were two rings. One was a deep, dark purple, and the other a solid black. They looked almost like they were carved from solidified shadows and moonlight.
A genuine smile touched Anand's lips as he picked them up. The moment they touched his skin, a familiar energy coursed through him. It was a cold, alien power, like holding a piece of the cosmos itself. He slid those rings onto the his index and ring finger of his right hand . A small tremor went through a spoon on the breakfast cart. He glanced at it, and the tremor ceased.
As the rings settled, a flicker of a memory passed over his face, a private moment that only he could understand.
Aryan, watching his every move, was frozen in his seat, his eyes wide in shock beyond belief. He knew those rings. His three generations of family had passed down the stories of the Patil family heirlooms. They were not just jewels; they were a sacred set, each piece a symbol of a different part of the Founder's legacy. The two rings, a mythical sword, and a necklace which he has only seen afar.
The star sword and the necklace were sacred items, currently held by the Family Head and the young leader as tokens of their supreme authority.
As the rings settled on the man's hand, a new theory solidified in Aryan's mind. He was now quite certain that the man in front of him was an illegitimate child of the Family Head. He was a forbidden secret, being kept in the dark, and now, the Family Head wanted to give him a part of the family's authority through the sacred heirlooms.