The old man's voice was steady, carrying a weight Renji couldn't ignore.
"Here," he said, his gaze lingering on the swords lining his walls, "everything is shaped by three great lineages. Nothing moves in this world without their hand in it."
Renji swallowed, leaning forward unconsciously.
"The Hawks," the old man began, "are the eyes of this world. The most intelligent of the lineages. They know everyone, every secret, every move before it's made. Their influence stretches beyond walls and borders. Some say they can plan so perfectly, it's as though they see the future itself."
Renji felt a chill run through him. He thought of the shadowy figures that watched without being seen.
"The Vasto," his tone hardened now, "are different. They are not battle winners… they are war winners. Cunning, patient, ruthless. They can outperform anyone, twist any plan, break even the strongest with fear. Their very presence unsettles kings. Assassins, manipulators, wielders of darkness—this lineage is the most dangerous, the most feared. Even the powerful whisper their name with caution."
Renji thought of Yara. The weight of her presence. The way her soldier obeyed her without hesitation.
"And then… the Andros." The old man's eyes softened. "The most decent lineage. True royals, born with dignity, carry themselves with loyalty. They don't think in terms of rivals or enemies. They see themselves as guardians. The strongest of the three, both in body and in spirit. Where Vasto rules with fear and Hawks with influence, Andros rules with sheer strength and order. The best administrators this world has ever seen."
Silence fell. Renji realized he had been holding his breath.
The old man finally turned to him, his voice low.
"You will see soon enough, boy… what this world truly is."