Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 12

The official demanded, taking a step into the room and pointing at the lower bunk.

 "Is that Jabber? Wake his lazy ass up too and tell him to get to the quarters immediately. You both think you're special? Think the rules don't apply to you?"

Asta swung his legs over the side of the bunk and dropped down to the floor, his bare feet hitting the cold wood with a soft thud.

 "Oh, sure. I'll do just that." 

He said, keeping his voice neutral, respectful. There was no point antagonizing the higher officials,that only led to worse assignments, longer hours, or sometimes worse.

The official held Asta's gaze for a long moment, as if searching for any hint of insubordination or mockery. Finding none, he grunted, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room. The door remained open, swinging slightly on its hinges.

Asta stood there for a moment, listening to the official's heavy footsteps receding down the hallway. Then he turned toward the lower bunk, hesitating. Jabber hadn't moved throughout the entire exchange.

Slowly and carefully, Asta approached the bunk. He reached out a hand, intending to shake Jabber's shoulder, but something made him pause. His hand hovered in the air, uncertain. There was something about the quality of Jabber's stillness that made Asta think twice about touching him.

"I'm awake, Asta."

 Jabber's voice came from the bundle on the bed, muffled by the blanket but clear enough. His tone was low, flat, empty of any real emotion.

 "You can go on without me."

Asta's hand dropped back to his side. 

"Oh. Okay then."

He stood there a moment longer, studying the unmoving figure. Jabber's dark hair was just visible above the edge of the blanket, messy and tangled. His breathing was steady but shallow. There was something deeply lonely about the way he lay there, something that made Asta's chest tighten with sympathy.

Finally, Asta turned and walked toward the door. His hand was on the doorframe when something made him stop and look back over his shoulder. Jabber still hadn't moved, hadn't rolled over to face him, hadn't given any indication that he planned to get up anytime soon.

The worry must have shown on Asta's face as he stood there, framed in the doorway, sunlight from the hallway casting his shadow across the floor. He opened his mouth, considering saying something, offering anything,but the words wouldn't come.

 What could he say that would make any difference?

Instead, he simply looked at Jabber for one more long moment, then stepped through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click.

The hallway was already bustling with activity,laborers hurrying toward the gathering quarters, some still pulling on shirts or adjusting their worn boots. Asta fell into step with the general flow of traffic, his mind already drifting back to the figure he'd left behind in that dim room.

"Poor Jabber." 

Asta muttered under his breath as he navigated through the corridor. His voice was lost in the general noise,footsteps, conversations and the occasional bark of laughter.

 "Back in school, he was so quiet you wouldn't notice he was actually beside you. Like a ghost. He'd sit in class, complete all his work, never cause any trouble, and somehow you'd forget he was even there until the instructor called on him.”

Asta turned a corner, following the stream of bodies toward the main quarters. The walls here were lined with notices and work assignments, papers yellowed with age and curling at the edges.

"At the power revealing exam." 

Asta continued his internal monologue, finding odd comfort in voicing his thoughts even if no one was listening.

 "Jabber was ranked A-class. A-class! Can you imagine? He wields the Sun Arising Flame of the Sunset Clan,one of the most prestigious flame types in the entire academy."

His feet carried him forward automatically while his mind stayed focused on Jabber's story. It was easier to think about someone else's problems than his own sometimes.

"But he was too weak to join any of the higher-up squads. They said he had power but no control, ability but no confidence. So Empress Valerie sent him to Cassian Xavier's squad, and Cassian..." 

Asta's jaw tightened at the memory. 

"Cassian saw Jabber as a weakling because he couldn't match their pace in training. Couldn't keep up with their drills, their standards, their cruelty disguised as discipline. So Cassian just... threw him out. Dismissed him like trash. And when Jabber tried to join other squads, no one would take him. 'We don't want someone Cassian Xavier rejected,' they'd say. 'If he thought you were a weakling, you must be truly worthless.'"

The injustice of it still burned in Asta's chest. Jabber had done nothing wrong except exist in a system that valued ruthlessness over potential.

"So they sent him to the labor section. Us rejects, us failures, us people who don't fit anywhere else." 

Asta's lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace.

 "At least we have each other, I suppose."

He emerged into the laborers' gathering quarters,a large, open space with a raised platform at one end and rough wooden benches arranged in loose rows. The room was already packed with bodies, the air thick with body heat and the smell of unwashed clothing and working sweat. Voices echoed off the stone walls, creating a constant dull roar of conversation.

Asta paused at the entrance, surveying the crowd. The quarters could hold maybe three hundred people when packed tight like this, and it looked like nearly every laborer in the complex had turned out. Some stood in groups, talking among themselves. Others sat alone on benches, arms crossed, faces blank. A few were already looking toward the empty platform, waiting for whoever was going to address them.

Asta began making his way through the crowd, mumbling.

"Excuse me" and "coming through" as he squeezed between bodies. He was shorter than many of the laborers, which meant he had to actively push forward to avoid getting trapped in the back where he wouldn't be able to see or hear properly.

A large man with a scarred face barely glanced at him as Asta slipped past. Two women were deep in conversation about their latest work assignment, voices raised to be heard over the general din. A young boy, who couldn't have been more than twelve, stood on his tiptoes trying to see over the adults surrounding him.

Asta continued weaving through the mass of humanity, his smaller frame actually an advantage in the crush. He managed to position himself roughly in the middle of the crowd, maybe slightly forward,not close enough to be at the very front where the higher officials might notice him specifically, but near enough to have a decent view of the platform.

He'd barely settled into his spot when movement at the side of the platform caught his attention. A figure was climbing the wooden steps,Old Man Kael, his weathered face instantly recognizable even from a distance.

Kael moved with the careful, deliberate steps of someone whose body had logged too many years and too many injuries but refused to acknowledge weakness. His gray hair was pulled back in a short tail, and his labor official's coat hung loose on his thin frame. 

Despite his age, there was something commanding about his presence. The crowd began to quiet as he reached the center of the platform, conversations dying down to murmurs, murmurs fading to silence.

"Good morning, everyone."

Old man Kael said, his voice carrying clearly across the quarters. It wasn't particularly loud, but it had a quality that made you want to listen, a weight that demanded attention.

"Good morning, Old Man Kael!" 

The crowd responded, the words coming from hundreds of throats in a somewhat ragged but genuine chorus. Smiles appeared on faces throughout the room,Kael was respected in a way few higher officials were. He was tough but fair, demanding but understanding. 

He pushed you hard but never asked more than he was willing to give himself.

Kael nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"I appreciate you all gathering here on such short notice. I know many of you are already starting your morning duties, so thank you for your time."

He paused, letting his eyes sweep across the crowd. Asta could have sworn those eyes landed on him specifically for just a moment, but Kael's gaze kept moving, taking in the whole assembly.

"For the past four months." 

Kael continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

"You've all been training hard. Training to make your strength stronger, your bodies more resilient, your minds sharper. The labor section isn't just about moving boxes and cleaning floors,though the gods know we do plenty of that too."

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd at that.

"We've been working on combat drills, endurance training, mental fortitude exercises. Some of you have excelled beyond my expectations."

 His eyes definitely landed on a few specific individuals scattered through the crowd: a tall woman near the front, a broad-shouldered man to the left, others Asta didn't know well.

 "Others..."

Kael's gaze shifted then, and Asta felt it land on him like a physical weight.

".

..are still having difficulties in certain areas."

‘I knew it.’

 Asta thought, his lips curving into a small, rueful smile despite himself. I knew he was going to look at me…