Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 2

The morning sun poured through the tall windows of the Tristan mansion dining hall. The long table was covered with warm bread, golden eggs, fresh orange juice, and little silver dishes of jam. Everything looked perfect.

Asta sat alone at one end, still in his soft blue pajamas, hair messy from sleep. He was quietly spreading butter on his toast and taking small bites.

Cassian stood in the doorway,his arms crossed. He was already dressed in his neat school uniform, his tie perfect, his shoes shiny. His sharp eyes stared at Asta for a long second.

Asta looked up and met his gaze.

Cassian let out a tiny, cold chuckle, just a puff of air, nothing friendly. Without saying a single word, he walked past Asta’s chair, his shoulders stiff, his shoes clicking loud on the marble floor. He headed straight for the grand staircase and disappeared upstairs.

The old butler, Grogerry, stepped closer, wiping his hands on a small towel.

“Young master Asta, did Master Cassian wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

He asked, his tone soft.

Asta looked down at his half-eaten toast and shrugged.

“I have no idea…”

He responded as he kept eating.

Night came.

The mansion was quiet and dark, only a few lamps glowing along the hallway.

Asta walked out of his room in a loose t-shirt and shorts, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He turned the corner and…

BAM!

He crashed right into Cassian, who was coming the other way.

Asta stumbled back a step.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you…”

Cassian’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Watch where you’re going next time!” 

He snapped, his voice sharp.

He tried to push past.

Asta turned and gazed at him with a frowning face.

“Hey! What’s your problem? You bumped into me! If anyone should be angry, it’s me, not you!”

Cassian stopped walking. His back was still to Asta. Slowly, he turned around, his voice low and cold.

“Why? Why should it be you?”

He let out a bitter laugh.

“Oh, let me guess… because you’re the real son of the great fire mage? Because you’re the strongest one here? The boss of the house?”

He stepped closer, his eyes burning.

“Or is it because I’m just the adopted cousin? I don’t get to have a say? Is that it, Asta?”

Asta didn’t move or flinch, he just looked confused.

“What are you talking about, Cassian? You’re not making any sense.”

Cassian’s face twisted.

“I’m making nonsense, right?”

 He poked his own chest hard. 

“Tomorrow you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

He spun around, stormed to his room, and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

Asta stared at the closed door for a second.

“What is his problem…?” 

He whispered to himself.

Then he shook his head and walked downstairs.

The kitchen was lit by one warm light above the sink. Butler Grogery was washing dishes, his sleeves rolled up, humming an old song quietly.

Asta walked in.

Grogery smiled when he saw him.

“Young master Asta, still awake?”

“Yeah… just came down for water.”

Asta filled a glass from the big jug on the counter and drank half in one go.

“Young master Cassian was down here too.” 

Grogery said.

 “You must have passed him on the way?”

Asta sighed.

“Yeah. More like he walked straight into me.”

Grogery chuckled softly.

“Don’t be too hard on him. He hasn’t lived here in years. He’s still getting used to the place.”

Asta sat down on one of the kitchen stools, resting his chin in his hand.

“Butler… Can you tell me more about Cassian? I feel like I need to know who he really is… and which part of the family he came from.”

Grogery dried his hands on a towel and

pulled up a stool and sat across from Asta.

He smiled gently.

“Alright. If you really want to know… I’ll tell you everything about young master Cassian.”