At the Pendragon estate, dawn had barely broken when Logan Pendragon stirred in his bed. It was 5 AM, and the air was crisp with the morning chill. Rising from his silken sheets, he made his way to the bathroom, washing off the remnants of sleep. The Pendragon heir donned his academy uniform—a sharp, tailored suit that marked him as part of one of Elaris' most powerful families. His reflection in the mirror was stoic, ready.
As he walked down the grand staircase to the dining hall, the scent of freshly prepared breakfast filled the air. Sitting around the long, elegant table were his mother, Selene, his older sister Diana, and his younger sister Lily. Each one was the picture of grace and refinement, much like the estate itself—polished marble floors, priceless artwork adorning the walls, and servants attending to their every need.
Logan took his seat at the table, his presence acknowledged with a nod from his family. But the atmosphere shifted when Henry Pendragon, the patriarch, made his entrance. Standing at 6'4" with a full beard and a body built from years of physical discipline, Henry commanded respect without saying a word. As he approached the table, the family rose in unison, greeting him with the deference reserved for a man of his stature.
Once Henry was seated, breakfast commenced. The clatter of silverware filled the room, but there was an air of anticipation. Henry's piercing eyes eventually landed on Logan.
"How are your preparations for the upcoming exam?" Henry asked, his voice deep and direct.
Logan, who had been stirring his drink, glanced up. His jaw tightened as memories of his encounter with Asher flooded his mind. "They're going well, Father," he answered, measured but tense.
Henry nodded, observing his son closely. "Good. But something seems to be weighing on you. What's bothering you?"
Logan paused for a moment, then looked his father straight in the eye. "Father, have you ever encountered a peasant who looked at you without an ounce of fear, as if they were your equal?"
Henry's brows furrowed, curiosity piqued. "No, never. What are you trying to say? Has someone dared to disrespect you?"
Logan's expression darkened as he relayed the story of his meeting with Asher Starline, carefully leaving out the details involving Snknifes. "I met a boy—a commoner. His name is Asher Starline. He looked me in the eyes, with no regard for who I am, for what the Pendragon name represents. He stood before me with boldness… and defiance."
Henry's lips curled into a smirk. "And what do you plan to do about this boy?"
Logan's eyes gleamed with a cold resolve. "I don't just want to have him punished or humiliated. I want to crush him. I want to destroy his pride, his confidence, and make him understand the weight of our name. I want him to know what it means to stand before a Pendragon."
Henry chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the room. "That's the Pendragon blood in you. You understand power and how to wield it. Do as you wish, my son. Crush him, and show him the difference between a Pendragon and the rest of the world."
Logan smiled. His father's approval was all he needed.
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, but Logan's mind was already spinning with thoughts of the upcoming exam. He would deal with Asher then—and he would ensure that Asher never forgot his place.
As breakfast ended, Logan stood, ready to leave for the academy. His father left for his business, and Logan climbed into the family car. The engine roared to life as he headed toward the academy, the weight of his name fueling his every move.
He was a Pendragon, and Asher Starline would soon learn what that truly meant.