"Wine."
Kael took a seat. His posture was straight. There was no stiffness in his body, only calmness.
Zephyr poured two glasses of dark wine. The surface of the liquid reflected the moonlight like a black mirror.
For several heartbeats, neither spoke.
Finally, Zephyr broke the silence.
"You've changed."
Kael held the cup between his fingers. His voice was as calm as the night: "Everyone changes, Father. What remains still, rots."
A fleeting spark crossed Zephyr's eyes. "Wise words. Though not all my children understand them."
He took a sip of wine. The chessboard between them seemed to await them, like a silent witness.
"Do you know why I called you here?" asked the patriarch, his tone unhurried.
Kael looked him in the eye. There was no fear or submission in his gaze, only clarity, and he replied:
"I can guess."
"Then let's guess together... while we drink." Zephyr smiled, barely.
They both drank in silence.
The wind rustled the bamboo stalks. The faint crackling of the wood filled the space between father and son.
Zephyr placed the cup on the stone, moving slowly.
"The Medici clan... is a river of power. Those who do not grow strong are swept away and drowned."
His voice was low, but every word carried weight.
Kael listened without moving a muscle. He knew this; he had experienced it firsthand in his past life.
"Your brothers believe that family ties are everything. That being in a good family is enough to secure the future." Zephyr let out a slight exhalation. "Naive. But they're not wrong either. Ties are useful... until they cease to be so..."
The red eyes fixed on Kael.
"Although bonds are important, strength is more important. That is why our clan has become so strong."
Kael took a sip of wine. Although he agreed that strength was the most important thing, ties were only chains that would hold him back from achieving his goal.
Zephyr tilts his head.
"That's why those on the Demonic Path are so dangerous."
Another sip. Another silence.
"I've been watching you, Kael," Zephyr continued. "The way you talk, the way you act, even when you're standing in front of me. You're too calm. You don't seem like a 15-year-old."
The air thickened, as if an invisible mountain had descended upon the place. The wine glasses rattled imperceptibly on the stone. Zephyr's expression turned cold and grim, unleashing the aura of someone at the peak of human power, one step away from becoming a demigod.
"Who are you?"
Sensing the aura of someone in rank 5, Kael held his glass, unperturbed. His eyes, black as the abyss, were reflected in the wine.
"Who am I? Isn't it obvious? I'm your son. The same one who was considered a bastard in this mansion. The same one who returned covered in blood, carrying a corpse, after being kidnapped. Kael Medici."
Zephyr smiled, without warmth. "I'll believe you... for now. But remember this: if I ever have the slightest doubt, I'll kill you."
His words were not empty. Zephyr sensed the danger emanating from his son. There was in him the scent of those who had walked the Demonic Path. He could not allow such a threat to poison the root of the clan.
Kael felt no threat. What his father said was the truth. Without emotion, he replied:
"I understand, Father."
For the first time, a shadow of satisfaction crossed Zephyr's face.
"Good."
He leaned over the chessboard.
"Are you playing?"
Kael put down his glass and, with precise movements, picked up the white king piece.
"Always."
Time passed slowly.
The father-and-son duo calmly moved the chess pieces.
The moon reflected on the calm lake. The black and white lotuses, some closed, others half-open, swayed in the wind.
The larger, darker, shinier leaves caught drops of dew that sparkled in the silvery moonlight.
...
Later, after two games, Kael returned to the mansion accompanied by the butler, Jack. Dinner was waiting.
The dining room was not full. Some seats remained empty. Only his mother, his stepmother, and the brothers who had not been selected as flag bearers were there.
Kael sat down next to his mother.
Alessia looked at him intently. "How did the talk with your father go? Lydia told me he had called you."
"Fine. We just played a game of chess and talked a little," Kael replied calmly, without adding anything else.
His words caused a slight stir at the table. Several eyes rose, though no one spoke aloud. That the clan chief, a man feared by all, would play chess with his youngest son... was hard to believe.
Alessia let out a sigh.
"That's unusual for him. But I guess you made a good impression," she said, glancing sideways at the reactions of the others.
Kael didn't respond. He just gave a slight smile.
The pieces have already begun to move. And with every decision I make, the variables increase.
In his mind, he reviewed every gesture, every word exchanged with his father. Change was inevitable. And in a game where every move altered the flow of power, information was the most valuable resource.
The servants began to enter silently, serving the dinner dishes. The air was filled with the warm aroma of roasted meat, fresh herbs, and spiced broths.
Beef soup, stews, golden poultry in its juices, roasted root vegetables, still-steaming rye bread, glasses of dark red wine.
The soft sounds of the service, the clinking of cutlery, and the murmur of hushed conversations gradually dissolved the tension that still lingered in the room.
Kael did not let himself be carried away by the relaxed atmosphere. His gaze swept across the table—the faces of his older brothers and sisters, each with their aspirations and veiled envy.
Weak blood. Most of them. Names without weight. Forgettable faces.
True power did not lie in these daily rituals or shared blood, but in the will to transcend them.
While the others chatted about trivial matters, Kael remained silent.
He picked up his cutlery slowly.
Inside, his determination was clear: the world kept turning. And he, along with it.