The door creaked open, abruptly snapping Rai from his thoughts.
A tall man in a black overcoat, layered over rugged brown leather, stepped into the hall. Just behind him walked a woman with striking blue eyes and flowing red hair, elegant, poised, and equally aware of every eye that turned their way.
Luko paused for a moment upon noticing Rai. A wide grin stretched across his face as he walked over to where Jake and Rai were seated.
"Ah, Rai. It's been a while, hasn't it? I almost forgot what you looked like," he chuckled. "And congratulations on your claim to the Patriarch's seat. Looks like you're finally getting the attention you always dreamed of, huh?"
Without waiting for a response, Luko took a seat directly across from Jake, his gaze never leaving Rai's face.
Anarita settled down a little farther from the trio, crossing one leg over the other. "You know," she said with a faint smirk, "for someone who's supposed to be a mere bodyguard, you've been absent quite a lot lately."
Jake turned to her. His face was calm, stone-like, but his voice held quiet steel.
"Don't concern yourself, m'lady. I've returned. I won't be leaving Lord Rai's side again."
There was a sharp undertone to his words, one that both siblings caught immediately. A silent warning.
Luko glanced sideways, his eyes narrowing as he studied Jake more closely. Something about him felt different. The air around him had shifted. It was subtle, but undeniable.
"Jake..." Luko said with a dry laugh. "You know, it feels like just yesterday you were picking fights and ending up knee-deep in pig shit. Looks like you've picked up a few tricks since then, huh?"
Rai opened his mouth to speak, when the doors creaked open and shut again, their heavy echo sealing the room in a tense hush.
A man entered, short and broad-shouldered, with fiery red hair. He wore black ceremonial robes, trimmed in silver, and a long dragon-forged sword hung at his side.
Everyone in the room stood and bowed.
"Lord Honko," came the respectful chorus.
Honko walked in with measured grace, with people watching his every step. But instead of heading toward the head of the table, he moved with quiet calculation, and took the seat beside Rai.
Luko and Anarita exchanged only a glance, calm and knowing. They had expected this.
Jake remained silent, eyes steady, watching.
Honko exhaled slowly, poured himself a glass of wine, then poured another, and slid it to Rai without looking at him.
"It's never easy," he began, voice deep and tempered, "standing in a place like this... where every eye is sharpened like a blade."
He took a sip.
"I see the eyes on you, Rai. So does the Council. So does the members connected with the Family and so do you..."
He looked toward the firelight now, shadows crawling along his face like silent whispers.
"Blood doesn't always make family. Legitimacy… even less so. I've no interest in prolonging this dance."
His voice lowered, yet every syllable struck with force.
"Walk away from the claim. You'll receive one hundred thousand rak, clean. And I'll grant you the mercenary division. You leave quietly. No noise. No tension."
A long pause hung in the air.
Rai didn't respond at once. He stared into the wine glass like it held the weight of futures.
And in that moment, his mind slipped to a few days earlier...
****
Two days ago , at the Road to the Docks.
The carriage rocked gently as the city gates faded behind them. Rain pelted the windows.
Jake sat beside him, arms crossed, staring out.
"You know," He said, "they're going to try to buy you out."
Rai didn't respond.
"They'll dress it up nice," Jake continued. "Say it's to preserve balance, peace, unity, all that nonsense."
"And?"
Jake turned toward him. His expression was unreadable.
"If you agree, ask for the Salibex steel division. The one near the Norran Straits."
Rai frowned. "That place is a wreck. It barely breaks even."
Jake didn't blink. "Trust me."
Rai stared at him for a beat. A waste land near war torn border, what use is it to anyone ??
"…You know something?" He asks.
"I always know something. You just don't ask the right questions." Jake replies, while looking outside.
****
Present at the Mourning Hall
Rai's fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. He lifted it, sipped, and set it down.
"I accept," he said simply.
"But," Rai continued, voice even, "I want the Salibex steel division near the Norran Straits. Under my ownership."
Luko blinked. Anarita's jaw stiffened.
A faint smile crept onto Jake's face, just for a second.
Honko's brow furrowed—not in objection, but in curiosity.
"That old mill?" he chuckled. "You'll be inheriting a graveyard."
"Then let me bury myself," Rai said quietly.
Honko studied him for a long moment, then nodded.
"It's yours. All of it."
He stood without another word and strode out, the echo of his boots trailing behind him.
The room remained silent. Luko tapped his knee, thoughtful. Anarita glanced at Jake, eyes narrowing.
Jake didn't move.
Rai let the tension fade from his shoulders and muttered under his breath:
"Let's see what graveyards are good for."
***
Three days later – Outside the Mercenary Head Office
Jake stood before the old signboard, its edges rusted and covered in dust. Faded lettering read: Mystic Hawk Corps Headquarters. Once a powerful and respected private mercenary group, the MHC had become a hollow shell of its former self. The War Council's new regulations, coupled with the late patriarch's diverted attention toward other ventures, had dismantled its structure piece by piece. Now, this decrepit head office was all that remained under MHC's official registry.
"Jake!" Rai's voice called out from behind.
Jake turned to see Rai approaching, holding a folded brown pamphlet sealed with red wax. The golden sun emblem etched into the wax marked it as an official document from the Iron Bank of Saigon.
"Uncle kept his word," Rai said, holding up the document. "The funds have been transferred, and ownership has officially changed hands."
He turned his gaze toward the base.
"It's mine now", he thought, though the reality was far from triumphant. The MHC, while technically under his control, was bleeding money. With no stable income and a monthly upkeep of over 5,000 raks, the operation was less a military asset and more a financial sinkhole. Something had to change—and quickly.
Jake walked toward the gatehouse where a heavily armored guard stood. A sword hung at the man's side, paired with a disabling baton on the other hip. A Hawk symbol was etched on his chestpiece.The guard snapped to attention and saluted as the two approached, then opened the gates without a word.
The compound sprawled out before them, barracks lined one side, while training and sparring grounds stretched into the rear. On the far right, a massive maintenance shed stood beside a cracked landing arena. At the center of it all was the heart of the base: a rectangular command building housing the main offices and control systems.
Rai stepped through the front doors of the main building, with Jake just behind him, silently scanning every corner of the entrance.