📘 Chapter 2: A Sip Before the Storm
The city of Astragar was alive — not just with noise, but with intent. The clamor of travelers, the clashing of metal from distant forges, the laughter of young warriors too proud to know fear — it all pulsed like a heartbeat.
I walked through the outer ring of the capital, where ancient stones met newer designs. Vendors peddled gear infused with minor enchantments, kids darted around with glowing spirit toys, and warriors from distant clans carried weapons sheathed in pride.
Still… my stomach had other priorities.
 "Mhh… something smells good."
A small signboard, shaped like a dragon curling around a steaming cup, caught my eye. A café? In a place like this? Curious, I stepped in.
The bell above the door jingled softly. Inside, the air was thick with chatter. Not just noise — loud. Boisterous. Warriors comparing scars, strategists debating formations, the creature ,growling low beneath tables.
 "Tch… isn't a café supposed to be a quiet place?" I muttered, shaking my head. "Whatever."
I scanned for a seat. Most were full — of course — but one table in the far corner had a single open chair. A boy around my age was already seated there, quietly sipping a steaming cup of tea.
I walked over without hesitation and sat down across from him.
We didn't speak at first. Just two travellers taking a moment before chaos.
 "Milk tea," I told the server.
"Black tea," the other boy said at the same time.
Our eyes met.
There was a pause. Nothing outwardly changed — no glow, no power burst — but something shifted. A silent pressure filled the space between us.
'Baskin'. A presence that only those trained in deeper sensing could feel.
It was faint — restrained — but unmistakable. We were both holding back.
 "You seem good at that," the boy finally said.
"Name's Arnox… Arnox Arakan," I replied, lowering my voice.
"Zephyrions clan. Call me Nile," he answered, calm but precise.
"Then call me Arnox."
"Didn't you say Arakan?" Nile asked, tilting his head slightly. "If I'm correct, you're the one they call… Spark of Arakan, aren't you?"
I sighed and rubbed my temple.
 "You got me. But please — stay silent. I don't want to make a mess here."
"As expected," Nile said, sipping his tea again. "The potential commander of Arakan."
"Don't you think you know a little too much? What are you — a historian? An archaeologist?"
"I'm a foreigner. Came here for the Trial of Vega.
But I read. Observe. Learn.
And from what I've heard — you're someone worth watching."
I raised an eyebrow, curiosity stirring.
 "So… you one of the foreign warrior clan elites wandering around before the trial?"
Nile shook his head slowly, setting his cup down with a soft clink.
 "Just for fairness, I'll tell you. Because I know you.
The Zephyrions clan isn't a warrior clan. "We're nobles — not warriors." .
"I'm from the Wetlands Kingdom — part of the United Kingdoms of the Western Continent."
 "Interesting…" I murmured. "You seem like a good person, Nile."
There was a small pause. I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice again.
 "After the Trial… if circumstances allow, would you consider joining under the same party banner?"
Nile blinked once. Still calm. Still unreadable.
 "Are you also looking to join a party? I assumed someone like you would aim straight for a Royal Warrior post."
"Mhh… Just to be clear — I'm not joining a party. I want to create one."
"Ah… so a leader then," Nile murmured, eyes narrowing just slightly. "And what makes you think I'd follow?"
"Because I trust my instincts.
And from what I've heard so far — you seem like someone who'd rather shape the battlefield than follow its flow."
Nile didn't smile — but he didn't deny it either.
 "That depends… on circumstances."
We fell into silence again . The sounds of the café, the clash of voices, the boiling kettles — it all faded into a stillness shared between two minds already calculating futures.
Then, I looked up at the crystal clock near the bar.
 "Ohh… crap. I haven't even registered for the Trial yet!"
"You haven't?" Nile asked, a faint note of surprise entering his voice for the first time. "Cutting it close, aren't you?"
"Mhh… got distracted. You know — tea, architecture, strange fate throwing me into your seat."
I stood up. "Wanna come with me?"
Nile exhaled softly, placing a few coins on the table.
 "Alright. Let's go… Spark."
"Tch… don't call me that," I grumbled. "Makes me sound like some flashy firework."
"Better than being forgotten," Nile said under his breath.
We left the café together.
Two cups remained. One still warm. One now cold.
Two names now remembered.
And a storm just beginning to stir.
So on…