Breakfast With The Ross Family

The Ross family dining hall had high, vaulted ceilings supported by dark oak beams. Golden chandeliers hung above, casting a warm glow over the polished table that stretched nearly the length of the room.

However, the most notable item in the room was the Ross family crest—a silver wolf with piercing blue eyes against a crimson backdrop was displayed on banners along the walls. Flanking the crest were large, oil-painted portraits of past Ross patriarchs, including a commanding image of Adin Ross in his prime.

Today's main courses were roast venison, slow-cooked to perfection, served with a red wine reduction. There was a stuffed pheasant filled with wild mushrooms and chestnuts and seared salmon, topped with a citrus-herb glaze.

For side dishes, they had truffle mashed potatoes—Creamy, buttery, and rich. Charred Brussels sprouts were served beside it, tossed with caramelized onions and balsamic glaze.

The final side dish was rosemary garlic bread loaf, freshly baked, with a crispy crust.

For dessert, they had blackberry Tart drizzled with honey and paired with vanilla cream. Chocolate ganache cake and spiced poached pears, served with clotted cream.

Silas was about to speak when more maids trooped in with aged red wines from the Ross family vineyard and a special dark brew of coffee, known only to the Ross estate.

Gazing at the table filled with food he never knew existed, Silas wasn't sure how to react.

Was he supposed to be annoyed that he and other villagers suffered while a few enjoyed the fruits of their labor?

Not really, he didn't even like the villagers enough to care about things like that.

Then there was another perspective to this. Maybe Adin provided this much food to sway him over. A village swine like him could be easily bought over by the simple things of life. 

Silas' eyes narrowed as he glared at the faces seated on the dining table. Adin Ross was a widower with two sons—Elliot Ross was his eldest, in his mid-30s, tall and lean, with a straight posture and calculating gray eyes. His dark brown hair is always combed back neatly, which complimented his sharp and defined features.

His wife, Catherine Ross, was in her late twenties and had long auburn hair often styled in elegant waves. She had high cheekbones, sharp green eyes, and a refined beauty that never faded. She was quiet and judging from the way Elliot gazed at her, he was still very much infatuated by his wife even after having two kids.

Her first son was Victor Ross, a 12-year-old with a perfect heir, standing nearly 5'9 with broad shoulders and a well-built physique for his age—it was clear he was involved in physical training of some sort. 

His dark brown hair was always neatly trimmed, and he had his grandfather's piercing blue eyes, which complimented his strong-jawed and serious expression.

His little sister, Irene Ross, was only 9 with long, wavy dark brown hair and striking blue-green eyes. She had soft, elegant features, but a sharpness in her gaze that made her seem older than she was.

Patriarch Ross's second son was Damian Ross, who was in his early 30s, more rugged than Elliot with a muscular build. His black hair had streaks of gray, and his face had small scars from years of combat training. 

His dark eyes held a constant intensity, and he seemed displeased sharing a table with a peasant like Silas. His wife was Isabelle Ross, a young lady in her mid-20s with long, sleek black hair and warm brown eyes that contrasted with the coldness of her family. 

She had a delicate but confident beauty, often wearing elegant dresses with subtle jewelry that hints at her status but nothing glamorous.

Gareth Ross was her eldest son. He was only 10 years old but strong, with a more rebellious air than Victor. His dark brown hair was slightly messier, and his gray eyes had a wildness to them. He had a few small scars from duels and brawls, always smirking like he was ready for a fight.

And finally, there was Lillian Ross, an 8-year-old menace with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She had jet-black hair that fell in silky waves down her back, and her bright green eyes contrasted against her pale skin, making her look almost doll-like.

Seated in the presence of aristocrats, Silas thought he would be nervous, but the reality was he didn't care. Why? Because he understood their situation more than anyone else.

The only reason they still lived in a big castle, enjoying this luxurious lifestyle, was because of Adin Ross. The moment the old man dies, they will be stripped of their position and their properties and forced to live like peasants they look down on.

That was the reality of living in the last human empire—magic was everything.

"Why am I here?" Silas asked in a dull tone.

However, his words attracted frowns across the long dining table. They gave this pig shelter, new clothes, and food, and he dares speak to them this way?

Bam!

Damian smacked the table with both hands and sprang to his feet. However, before he could speak, Adin signaled him to stay quiet with a simple finger gesture.

"You are a very smart boy, young Silas. I can see it in your eyes. Those are the eyes of a man who has endured hardship and suffering for a while." Adin Ross said in a respectful tone even though he was over 50 years older than this child.

"All this would never have happened if you never had this power," Ruth whispered into his ear, her body burning crimson red. "Don't be swayed by his sweet words!"

"I have seen the worst life to offer. Now that I have what it takes to get the best out of it, I won't be modest." Silas responded with crimson eyes that reflected Ruth's anger.

"I'll be straightforward with you… Your family will become peasants in a decade, at most, after your passing. They have no hope or talent for magic. Without me, your lineage ends…"

Silas stretched out his hand towards the Ross family and spoke in a voice filled with resolve.

"Step down and make me the Ross family patriarch, and I will save your family from the dark fate that awaits them. That is, as long as they remain obedient."