The morning sun rose, and Kasimir awoke from his sleep. As soon as his eyes opened, a wide smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Finally! No more rotting away—no more reading the same books, day in and day out!"
Kasimir couldn't contain his excitement. He stretched his arms just as a knock came at the door.
"Young Master Kasimir, it's time for your morning routine," said the maid as she entered with a warm smile. She picked him up gently from the bed and brought him to the bath, where she began his usual routine. After bathing him and helping with his hygiene, she wrapped a towel around his damp hair.
"Since Master Lax is visiting, the young master should dress appropriately," she said, presenting an elegant set of clothes—most adorned with the family's sigil.
The Asheensteel Sigil, known as the Flamebound Star, was a radiant six-pointed star formed from intersecting silver blades, each with serrated edges that symbolized their war-forged legacy. At its center blazed a crimson flame, shaped like an ascending sword—representing inherited will and divine conviction. Encircling the star was a thin black ring inscribed with glowing runes in the ancient Asheensteel tongue, bearing their ancestral words:
"We Do Not Break. We Do Not Betray."
Silver, crimson, and black—the colors of discipline, sacrifice, and unshakable loyalty to blood and legacy.
"Oh, it looks amazing, young master!" the maid chuckled.
She picked Kasimir up again and brought him downstairs, heading for the dining hall—an unnecessarily large room with a long table stretching down the center. Every meter sat a chair, yet only one was used. Kasimir's.
After seating him, the maid bowed and returned to her chores.
Kasimir looked at his plate—mashed potatoes, asparagus, and tender meat, topped with exquisite sauce. A goblet sat beside it, filled with the cleanest mountain water.
But while he ate, his gaze constantly shifted to the windows—as if waiting for someone.
After ten minutes of silence, he couldn't take it anymore. He climbed down from his chair and hurried toward the window. From afar, he spotted it.
"A carriage! A carriage!" he shouted.
The knights guarding the door smiled beneath their helmets… but then their expressions froze. A chill ran down their spines.
'L-Lax Asheensteel is going to live here—for years!'
They shuddered as they tried to sneak a peek out the window, but—
BANG!
The main doors burst open.
A tall man stepped inside, his broad shoulders held in rigid posture. Crimson red hair—tied into a warrior's knot—crowned his head, and not a single strand was out of place. His blue eyes, piercing and cold, swept through the hall with a calculating gaze.
He wore a high-collared black coat trimmed in silver, lined with old runes and faintly glowing Asheensteel sigils stitched into the sleeves—marks of a high-ranking Bonded. A thin scar traced his jaw.
His eyes locked on the two knights.
"What exactly are you doing? A Nexus-Bond and a Soul-Forged Knight caught off guard?"
His presence alone made them stiffen. Then, with a sneer: "And you're even contracted with C-Tier spirits. Tch."
"W-We give our greetings and apologize, my lord!" they said, bowing as the temperature in the hall began to drop.
'So… that's the Frost Sovereign of the Anamea Empire…'
Lax Asheensteel—a name that could silence entire courts. His very presence kept the empire's stability intact. A man standing atop the hierarchy.
"Go. I'm here to see my nephew." He turned and made for the dining room.
As soon as he left, the knights nearly collapsed, gasping for breath, hands trembling.
"So… the rumors were true," one whispered.
"Yeah. I attended the academy in the capital once," the other replied. "I heard the stories—the Frost Sovereign. Sounded far-fetched… but the emperor wouldn't send an imperial decree without reason."
"And where'd he get that title anyway? We've seen Barsan over the past three years, but nothing's happened. Just quiet."
Smack!
His comrade lightly struck the back of his helmet.
"Don't be stupid. We're here because no one wants to risk offending the Asheensteels. You've heard of the Storm Warden of Anamea, haven't you? The man who wiped out forty-three elite Contract Bearers in one battle? The battlefield's now a canyon they call the Split Sky."
"And Lax? He's done worse. During the conflicts between Anamea, Velkhar, and the Arcane Dominion, he defeated fifty thousand troops, a hundred B-Tier Contract Bearers, and the three generals of the Velkhar Empire."
The first knight's jaw slackened. "That's… That's even possible?"
"It's said he did it in under an hour," his partner muttered.
⸻
Back in the dining hall, Kasimir had just returned to eating. His excitement about the carriage had settled… until he felt the air change.
A chill crept into the room. He froze mid-bite, gripping his fork tightly.
His instincts told him someone powerful had arrived.
The man who stepped in? None other than Lax Asheensteel.
"Oho? Daring, are we, my dear nephew?" Lax's cold chuckle echoed. "A true Asheensteel."
Kasimir stood instantly and met his eyes. "Vey Ardentem."
Lax smiled wide. "Vey Ardentem." He flicked his hand—and a chair made of ice appeared across from Kasimir.
'Magic!' Kasimir's eyes lit up. His heart raced with excitement.
Before he could get carried away, Lax's voice snapped him back.
"So, Kasimir. Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Lax Asheensteel. My great-grandfather and your father's grandfather were brothers. I grew up with Barius and Barsan. Your father… he was the greatest of our era—perhaps ever."
Lax leaned back in the icy chair.
"I'm here to teach you until your sixteenth birthday. The first seven years will be general education:
Noble etiquette. Asheensteel traditions. Geography. Ashen language.
…And, of course—
Magic."
⸻
The morning sun rose, and Kasimir awoke from his sleep. As soon as his eyes opened, a wide smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Finally! No more rotting away—no more reading the same books, day in and day out!"
Kasimir couldn't contain his excitement. He stretched his arms just as a knock came at the door.
"Young Master Kasimir, it's time for your morning routine," said the maid as she entered with a warm smile. She picked him up gently from the bed and brought him to the bath, where she began his usual routine. After bathing him and helping with his hygiene, she wrapped a towel around his damp hair.
"Since Master Lax is visiting, the young master should dress appropriately," she said, presenting an elegant set of clothes—most adorned with the family's sigil.
The Asheensteel Sigil, known as the Flamebound Star, was a radiant six-pointed star formed from intersecting silver blades, each with serrated edges that symbolized their war-forged legacy. At its center blazed a crimson flame, shaped like an ascending sword—representing inherited will and divine conviction. Encircling the star was a thin black ring inscribed with glowing runes in the ancient Asheensteel tongue, bearing their ancestral words:
"We Do Not Break. We Do Not Betray."
Silver, crimson, and black—the colors of discipline, sacrifice, and unshakable loyalty to blood and legacy.
"Oh, it looks amazing, young master!" the maid chuckled.
She picked Kasimir up again and brought him downstairs, heading for the dining hall—an unnecessarily large room with a long table stretching down the center. Every meter sat a chair, yet only one was used. Kasimir's.
After seating him, the maid bowed and returned to her chores.
Kasimir looked at his plate—mashed potatoes, asparagus, and tender meat, topped with exquisite sauce. A goblet sat beside it, filled with the cleanest mountain water.
But while he ate, his gaze constantly shifted to the windows—as if waiting for someone.
After ten minutes of silence, he couldn't take it anymore. He climbed down from his chair and hurried toward the window. From afar, he spotted it.
"A carriage! A carriage!" he shouted.
The knights guarding the door smiled beneath their helmets… but then their expressions froze. A chill ran down their spines.
'L-Lax Asheensteel is going to live here—for years!'
They shuddered as they tried to sneak a peek out the window, but—
BANG!
The main doors burst open.
A tall man stepped inside, his broad shoulders held in rigid posture. Crimson red hair—tied into a warrior's knot—crowned his head, and not a single strand was out of place. His blue eyes, piercing and cold, swept through the hall with a calculating gaze.
He wore a high-collared black coat trimmed in silver, lined with old runes and faintly glowing Asheensteel sigils stitched into the sleeves—marks of a high-ranking Bonded. A thin scar traced his jaw.
His eyes locked on the two knights.
"What exactly are you doing? A Nexus-Bond and a Soul-Forged Knight caught off guard?"
His presence alone made them stiffen. Then, with a sneer: "And you're even contracted with C-Tier spirits. Tch."
"W-We give our greetings and apologize, my lord!" they said, bowing as the temperature in the hall began to drop.
'So… that's the Frost Sovereign of the Anamea Empire…'
Lax Asheensteel—a name that could silence entire courts. His very presence kept the empire's stability intact. A man standing atop the hierarchy.
"Go. I'm here to see my nephew." He turned and made for the dining room.
As soon as he left, the knights nearly collapsed, gasping for breath, hands trembling.
"So… the rumors were true," one whispered.
"Yeah. I attended the academy in the capital once," the other replied. "I heard the stories—the Frost Sovereign. Sounded far-fetched… but the emperor wouldn't send an imperial decree without reason."
"And where'd he get that title anyway? We've seen Barsan over the past three years, but nothing's happened. Just quiet."
Smack!
His comrade lightly struck the back of his helmet.
"Don't be stupid. We're here because no one wants to risk offending the Asheensteels. You've heard of the Storm Warden of Anamea, haven't you? The man who wiped out forty-three elite Contract Bearers in one battle? The battlefield's now a canyon they call the Split Sky."
"And Lax? He's done worse. During the conflicts between Anamea, Velkhar, and the Arcane Dominion, he defeated fifty thousand troops, a hundred B-Tier Contract Bearers, and the three generals of the Velkhar Empire."
The first knight's jaw slackened. "That's… That's even possible?"
"It's said he did it in under an hour," his partner muttered.
⸻
Back in the dining hall, Kasimir had just returned to eating. His excitement about the carriage had settled… until he felt the air change.
A chill crept into the room. He froze mid-bite, gripping his fork tightly.
His instincts told him someone powerful had arrived.
The man who stepped in? None other than Lax Asheensteel.
"Oho? Daring, are we, my dear nephew?" Lax's cold chuckle echoed. "A true Asheensteel."
Kasimir stood instantly and met his eyes. "Vey Ardentem."
Lax smiled wide. "Vey Ardentem." He flicked his hand—and a chair made of ice appeared across from Kasimir.
'Magic!' Kasimir's eyes lit up. His heart raced with excitement.
Before he could get carried away, Lax's voice snapped him back.
"So, Kasimir. Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Lax Asheensteel. My great-grandfather and your father's grandfather were brothers. I grew up with Barius and Barsan. Your father… he was the greatest of our era—perhaps ever."
Lax leaned back in the icy chair.
"I'm here to teach you until your sixteenth birthday. The first seven years will be general education:
Noble etiquette. Asheensteel traditions. Geography. Ashen language.
…And, of course—
Magic."
⸻