'It's been nearly a year since they ruthlessly took my grandson away. The preparations on our end are almost complete, the only thing left to accomplish is speaking to the Taylor's head.'
In a scarcely lit room, several figures wearing stern expressions sat around a wooden table which was engraved with intricate patterns and a large crest; those people were Lucas Anderson and his sons.
Despite the fact that Rohan's uncles were not fond of him in any shape or form, the brutal murder of the Anderson family's successor right under their noses was a humiliation and a stab to their pride. The common denominator that unified everyone present was that they were all hell-bent on obtaining revenge.
A gloomy being had his hands clasped against his head; a sharp killing intent radiated from him and his gaze alone could compel anyone to bow in his presence. That man was none other than Carlos Anderson and the strength that he exuded was that...of the ninth stage! After losing his son, he trained like a madman for a year to raise his fighting prowess. His might was now on par with his father's.
"Father and I will leave for the Taylor family tomorrow."
The kind and enthusiastic aura that he once boasted was merely a thing of the past and was replaced with an expressionless and dangerous spirit.
The unending cobalt-blue sky was illuminated by the radiating sun; the leaves rustled as the gentle breeze brushed past them. The birds chirped a harmonious melody that could reinvigorate anyone who gave ear to it.
A convoy consisting of only ten members was assembled at the gates of Vainum. A sizeable wooden carriage inlaid with gold trimmings was being hauled by four dignified horses; on the inside, the seats were cushioned and encased in white leather.
Two men were face-to-face with each other and did not exchange a single word; the carriage was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. The father-son duo navigated towards the Taylor's territory; their journey was uninterrupted as bandits were horror-struck as soon as the Anderson crest came into view.
The trip that was prolonged due to the size of the carriage, lasted almost a week. The walls of the capital, Baltor, were presenting themselves on the horizon. They truly upheld the status of the prestigious family that was residing inside.
The convoy stopped in its tracks; Carlos and Lucas left the luxury of their carriage and steered themselves towards the gates. Wasting time with useless formalities was a hassle and was the last thing they wanted to do, so they entered incognito.
They streaked past the guards and entered the noble city. The bustling ambiance was able to hold a candle to the atmosphere back in Vainum. The architectural styles however were like night and day; Baltor's buildings were constructed out of intricately crafted wooden elements that framed the brick base while their counterpart's buildings were made out of marble and sandstone.
A ginormous estate was located at the heart of the city; the dwelling obviously belonged to the Taylor family. The house was surrounded by a deep moat filled to the brim with water; rays of sunlight reflected off of the clear liquid and could almost blind anyone who laid their eyes on the house.
A polished wooden bridge linked the gate to the building. The sandstone towers seemed to pierce heaven itself and the stone walls were inlaid with precious stones; the spiraling roofs were embellished with burgundy tiles that truly connected all the architectural elements together. The structure was a sight to behold and anyone lucky enough to feast upon this building would be placed in a trance.
The pair was standing in front of the heavily guarded gate.
"Stop right there, where do you think you're trying to set foot in. Go away before you get hurt," one of the guards said.
"Go call your patriarch, tell him that Lucas is here."
"How dare you order me--"
The guard's phrase was cut off when he took note of the crests that were embroidered on the garments of the two blokes. His mind connected the symbol to the name that the old man had just uttered. He stumbled over his words and began stuttering.
"A-An-Anderson family"
"I apologize for my rudeness, please enter," the man said while giving way to them.
The other guards lowered their heads, almost bowing; the man in front of them was straight out of a history book, his achievements on the battlefield solidified his position on the continent.
After being granted access to the residence, the two of them made their way to the great room. With a firm push, Lucas blew away the door. The spacious area was covered from floor to ceiling with invaluable works of art and family paintings.
In the center of the room was a dining table made out of marble. Silver cutlery and a porcelain dinnerware set occupied all of the place. Seven figures were seated around the table. The patriarch, his wife and their five children.
They had two daughters and three sons. The former were kind and gentle souls while the latter were polar opposites. They were enjoying a sumptuous banquet when the noise of the door crashing against the wall reverberated throughout the room.
"Who dares-- Oh its you Lucas," the patriarch said.
They were at each other's throats for years so it was understandable that he was not pleased to see the Anderson patriarch. One of the daughters was almost in tears as she stared at the man behind the patriarch, Carlos. She sprinted across the room and landed in his arms. They hugged and cried their hearts out as they were reunited after such a long time.
"I've missed you."
That woman was Rohan's mother, Lydia Taylor.
"I thought that we had agreed to break up the marriage," the Taylor head said.
Lucas neared the table and settled down on one of the seats; he was eye-to-eye with the fellow patriarch.
"Rey, the Ellis family has attacked us."
"What does that have to do with us?" he asked
"The atrocity that Von Ellis has committed has prevented your family from boasting one of the most talented youngsters ever."