Chapter 20: [Duchy of Inferna] [11] Dinner with a demigod [2]
The tense silence that hung in the air after my greeting was thick enough to be cut with a knife.
Aron Infernia, instead of answering me, merely narrowed his eyes. It was neither acceptance nor rejection, but rather the indifferent curiosity one might display while examining an insect. It was as if my existence was nothing more than a speck of dust disrupting the perfect order of the universe he had constructed; annoying, but for now, too insignificant to be worth crushing.
The only sound at the table was the faint clinking of silver cutlery against porcelain plates, each chime unnervingly amplified as if echoing through a vast cathedral.
The first move to disperse this unbearable atmosphere came from Duchess Seraphina. Placing on her face the gentle smile that allowed her to maintain composure even in the most strained diplomatic negotiations, she said, "The preparations for the upcoming Fire Festival have begun." Though her voice tried to sound cheerful, it was like opening a silk umbrella in the middle of a storm; futile and a little desperate. "The people are already very excited for the festival."
Duke Veynar cast a grateful glance at his wife and eagerly tried to take over the topic. "Yes, absolutely! We’ve even invited the Kingdom’s best fire dancers for the performances in the main square."
Seraphina turned to me and asked, "Cassian, this will be your first time attending a festival, won’t it?"
All eyes turned to me for a moment, and I struggled to swallow the bite of food caught in my throat. "Yes, my lady," I said, taking care not to let my voice tremble. "It will be a first for me."
"Then this year will be a wonderful first for you!" Iris chimed in cheerfully, lightly touching my hand under the table as if to give me courage.
Aron, however, was completely detached from these worldly conversations. His gaze roamed over the table, but he saw nothing. It was as if we were shadows moving in his world, and he was the only solid object, unaffected by our presence.
Eventually, Duke Veynar’s words also died away, hanging in the air. The Duchess’s smile faded. Iris’s cheerfulness was swallowed by the icy air in the room.
His presence consumed the oxygen in the room, making every bite a lump in our throats. I looked down at my plate; skillfully cooked duck, asparagus, and saffron rice. Normally, it was a sight that would make my mouth water. But that night, it was all no different from tasteless straw. All my senses were locked on the man sitting at the head of the table like a marble statue. The dinner that night was more of an interrogation than a feast, and I, unknowingly, had given all the wrong answers.
Towards the end of the meal, as the servants moved silently to bring the desserts, Aron addressed me directly for the first time. His voice was like a whisper from the depths of a tomb; low, but every tone within it was filled with absolute authority.
"Boy," he said, not even deigning to use my name. "You have a different scent about you. Beneath the smell of mud and orphanage, something else is hidden... something ancient." His eyes fixed for a moment on the spot where my dragon heart lay. The organ inside me stuttered for a second under this direct attention. "What do you think you bring to this Duchy? Hope? Or just more trouble?"
I couldn’t answer. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Duke Veynar opened his mouth to intervene, "Father, please..."
But Aron silenced him with a single glance. His eyes were on me again, like an auger drilling into my soul. "Remember," he continued. "Some secrets turn their bearer into a treasure, and others, merely into a tombstone. I will watch with curiosity to see which you will become."
With those words, he slowly pushed his chair back, left his napkin on the table, and left the room without another word. With his departure, it was as if a weight of tons had been lifted from us. Everyone took a deep breath at the same time. But the coldness that remained in the room was too deep for even the warm flames of the fireplace to dispel.
A week had passed since that night. My life had taken on a strange dichotomy. One half of my days was spent in the brutal training of Lyra and Elara, like a sword being forged in the fires of hell. The other half was like escaping that fire to hide in the shadow of an iceberg.
Aron Infernia’s presence had brought an unexpected focus to my training. Every lesson Lyra taught me something new. I learned to control my mana flow more precisely, to create basic magic shields in seconds, and even to conjure different spells in the palm of my hand within moments.
"Faster, Cassian!" Lyra would shout, throwing a wooden spear at me on the training ground. "Your enemy won’t wait for you to gather your mana!"
I reflexively raised my hands, and the blue, hexagonal-patterned shield I envisioned appeared before me. The spear shattered against the shield with a crackle of energy. I was out of breath. "I did it," I said to myself, a wave of pride washing over me.
"You did it?" Lyra’s voice was mocking. "Your shield cracked in milliseconds. If that were a real spear, it would be embedded in your shoulder. Again!"
These relentless lessons, which once felt like torture, had now become an escape, a sanctuary from Aron’s oppressive presence. On the training ground, only the rules of magic and combat applied, and there, the judging gaze of a Demigod was absent.
Somehow, I tried to spend my days subjected to the strict training of Elara and Lyra while also avoiding the old man. I would quicken my steps in the corridors to avoid seeing a shadow resembling his, go out to the garden when I heard he was in the library, and lock myself in the weapons training room when I learned he was in the garden. It was a frustrating game of cat and mouse, and I was always the mouse.
The rest of the day, I spent my time with Iris. She was my only normal moment in this castle. We would read books together, train, or just sit by the lake and silently watch the reflections on the water. But even these moments were rarely completely peaceful, because often the old man would appear from the shadows, trying to come between us.
That day, we were sitting in one of the quietest corners of the garden, under an old willow tree. I was showing Iris my newly learned wind shield.
"Wow, Cass! That’s amazing!" Iris said, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "It’s going to be even harder to get past your defense now."
Her sincere appreciation warmed me. "It still needs a lot of improvement," I murmured.
Suddenly, we felt a distinct chill in the air. The scent of the flowers disappeared, replaced by the smell of ozone and power. When we turned around, we saw Aron standing ten meters away from us, his hands clasped behind his back, watching us like a statue.
"A spark," he said in a distant and emotionless voice. "A pathetic spark trying to survive in the middle of a storm. If you continue at this pace, perhaps in a century you’ll be able to stop a thrown stone, boy."
My shield flickered and dissipated under the weight of his words. Before I could respond, Iris shot to her feet. On her face was an exasperation that had been building for weeks. "Grandfather! Cass is just learning. Please leave him alone."
When Aron looked at his granddaughter, that face carved from marble softened for a moment. "I am only trying to help, my little sun. I cannot allow anyone around my granddaughter to be weak and useless. It is an insult to your safety."
Iris rolled her eyes, the only person who could get away with such a gesture towards such a powerful man. "His teachers are Lyra and Elara. Not you. And this is our time. Please."
That word "please" was not a simple request, but a clear warning. Seeing her eyes begin to well up slightly, that dangerous weapon preparing to be unsheathed, Aron instantly backed down. A momentary panic flashed across his face. "Of course, of course... I did not mean to disturb you," he mumbled and disappeared into the shadows as quietly as he had come.
Each time, he was forced to retreat, scolded by Iris. This strange dynamic had become the routine of the week. I was getting stronger, Aron watched with judgment, and Iris continued to be the invisible shield between us.
"How do you put up with him?" I asked, once the last remnants of Aron’s presence had faded from the air.
Iris sighed, sitting down beside me again wearily. "He’s always been like this. His love... it can be suffocating. In his desire to protect me, he actually locks me in a cage." She turned her eyes to me, a look of both apology and understanding within them. "That’s why he’s so harsh with you. He sees you as a threat."
"Me? How could I possibly be a threat?"
"In his eyes," Iris said with a sad smile, "anyone who can steal my happiness from him is a threat. And you... you make me smile, Cass."
This simple confession changed the air between us in that moment. But even this warmth couldn’t hide the underlying truth. Ours was a balance hanging by a thread. And I knew that the patience of a Demigod was not infinite. I didn’t know how much longer this tense ceasefire could last. But with each passing day, as my dragon heart pumped more power into my veins, a voice inside me whispered: The storm was coming, and this time, Iris’s tears might not be enough to protect me.