Family Bonding | Lamoureux Mansion

Pierre was standing in the backyard of the Lamoureux Mansion, in a clearing about one hudred meters away from the actual Manor. The clearing was about twenty meters in diameter, covered with soft short grass that has been cut just a day ago, tall trees surrounding it. It was warm in this area of France. A light jacket was enought to sustain the body heat during the coldest weathers of winter.

The man stood to the side as he watched his son with cold calculating eyes as the boy practised his kicks. They had been out there for almost two hours already. In the brief time Pierre was home from school he had to make sure that his son was progerssing well on all parts of his education. Only the best were accepted into the Mafia and his son was going to be one of them.

"Higher," the man gave the order coldly as he begun circling Raymond once again. The boy was getting tired from the gruelling practice of his karate skills, he could see that. His skills were getting better, but he was still very young and had a long way to go. Slacking off was never tolerated in this house.

Two hours Raymond thought as he sighed and readied his stance. He kicked at the dummy and hit his shoulder but then he heard his father say 'Higher'. He mentally growled and readied back to stance, looking over at the dummy on which he was practicing on.

He started imagining that the dummies head was someone else's. Someone that he hates, he grinned when he pictured Sithis Monomyth's head on the dummy. And just as dumb too he thought smirking. He growled and let out his anger and power on that one kick to the dummies head, sending it flying away.

He then went back to position, stood straight, and bowed to the now beheaded dummy then looked at his father. "Was that good enough, sir?" he asked, hoping his father was pleased with his performance.

"No," Pierre said simply, his voice cold as he watched his son. "These movements should be performed almost on insticnt.. You will not have any time to concetrate and think about anything when the need arises to perform a simple kick," he said as he circled the area Raymond was working in with his hands behind his back. "Do them again. Thirty more," he said as he came to stand about ten feet away from the boy.

Ray flinched at the coldness of his father's words but sighed and nodded. He looked back to the beheaded dummy and growled. This is all your fault he thought. He readied his stance and started aiming kicks instinctively at the dummy. Each blow making a ripping sound; when he finally reached 30 kicks the dummy was now pouring stuffing out on one side. He growled and gave it one more quick kick for good measure then looked back at his father.

Pierre's expression remained calm as he watched Raymond, his paitience becoming very thin. He was still much too childish even with the training he was getting. "Finish your training for the day and meet me in the lounge after you shower," he informed his son, before turning to head back to the Manor. There were a few other things that he need to catch up on over the holidays and his son was only one of them.

Raymond did as his father instructed. He finished his training and then went to the showers. What was his father thinking? Of course he'll be immature sometimes. He was still a kid he reasoned in his mind. After having showered, he dressed in his regular clothes. A pair of black pants, a crisp and clean long sleeved shirt and black polished shoes. It was an irony at how mature he looked for an 8 year old. He walked over to the lounge and knocked on the door waiting for his father's permission to enter.

"Enter," Pierre said from behind the door. He was sitting on the couch in the middle of the room with papers spread on the coffee table in front of him. The man was leaning over them, studying them intently. They were the results of his latest research project that he did in southern Andorra for Azazel when he was there to learn more about the counttry's history from within.

He raised his head as his son entered the room. "Sit," he instrcuted, gesturing to the couch opposite him. "Tell me, Raymond, how are you studies in Russian going?" he asked in the foreign language as he leaned back in his own chair, studying the boy.

Raymond mentally sighed as he got hold of the ornate handles of the lounge He turned them as he opened the door and then let go. He stood there unmoving before bowing respectfully to the man in front of him. It was a wonder how he acted it was like he was no more an eight year old boy.


He wandered to the couch that his father had pointed and sat down. He mentally made a face but his outer appearance remained expressionless. "My studies in Russian fair good Father" he said after a quick moment of translating in his head.

"Let's hope so," Pierre said. "Because tomorrow you and I will be going to Russia to see an old friend of mine, Azazel Sicarius, a very important man." Pierre had contemplated for quite a long time whether his son was ready to be introduced into the Mafia, whether he was skilled enough. He knew he was not. But on the other hand they couldn't wait for this too long. He needed to be prepared properly, needed to be completely ready to stand on his own two feet in less than ten years.

Raymond tilted his head at his dad before answering him in Russian. "Azazel Sicarius? Why is he important father?" he asked curiously. He wanted to know how he should act towards the man his father mentioned. How he should act to be accepted. "Why are we meeting him?" he asked again. If he was going somewhere with his father then he knew that this must be important if they were meeting someone that his father deemed important.