SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Trafalgar looked at the headline and his thoughts went directly to Garrika.

If the Concordant Wardens had already begun operating, then she was probably somewhere dangerous by now, doing the work she had chosen for herself. He had not forgotten what she told him two months ago either. The words had stayed somewhere in the back of his mind since that day in the shop.

He did not know when they would see each other again.

The article spoke about the trouble that had happened near the territory between the Vaelion and the Nocthar. Rifts had opened there around two months ago, and the situation had caused more problems than the early reports made it seem. The Wardens had intervened with strong results, and most of the credit in the article went to Eldric au Veyr.

Eldric was a professional when it came to this kind of thing. The articles were already beginning to treat him like the face of the new force.

Cynthia noticed Trafalgar’s expression.

She leaned a little closer from across the table, her voice lower than before.

”What do you think of them? As someone from the Morgain family, one of the Eight Great Families, I imagine their creation must have influenced the great houses.”

Trafalgar lowered the newspaper slightly.

”You’re not wrong,” he said. ”The families accepted their creation, and honestly, I think creating them was the right thing to do. If they can prevent people from dying because no family wants to move first, then they have a purpose.”

Cynthia listened without interrupting.

”But it can be dangerous too,” Trafalgar continued, folding the edge of the paper with one hand. ”They are not an ordinary force. You can’t compare them to the private forces of one Great Family, because they answer to the Council and can operate in places most families can’t easily touch. Neutral territory, smaller cities, cross-boundary incidents. That kind of authority can save lives, but if it is mishandled, it can create problems.”

Cynthia stayed quiet.

From his tone, she understood that he was not treating the Wardens like some simple guard group built to help people in trouble. This was larger than that. The academy made the world feel structured, almost contained, but every now and then Trafalgar spoke in a way that reminded her how much bigger everything was outside those walls.

Politics, families, neutral cities, hidden forces, territory, authority.

All of it moved around people long before they noticed.

’This is what Trafalgar will have to face in a few years…’

Selara pulled both of them and the whole wagon out of their thoughts by clapping once from the aisle.

”Alright, everyone. You may move around the train if you want. Remember what I said about not touching dangerous things. Though to be fair, most of you couldn’t open the sealed areas even if you tried.” She waved lazily toward the front. ”There are places to sleep, eat, sit, waste time, play cards, pretend to read, or actually read if you’re that kind of person. Do as you like, but do not make me regret bringing students.”

A few students rose immediately.

Cynthia looked back at Trafalgar. He still had the newspaper in his hand, but his mind seemed half elsewhere.

She thought about offering to go to the restaurant.

She had already eaten breakfast, but that did not matter much.

Her thoughts drifted to a conversation she had not long ago with Aubrelle and Mayla. The topic had been obvious: Trafalgar. Cynthia had realized by then that she was attracted to him. That she liked him. It had not happened suddenly. At first, she could have said she hated him.

He had put Bartholomew in danger. Or rather, he had made Barth do things her brother would never have done on his own. Trafalgar was dangerous, calculating, and often kept far too much to himself.

But there was another side to him.

He was good to the people he cared about. He never forced Bartholomew in some dirty way to help him. He treated the children at the orphanage better than she expected. He had done absurd things for people who mattered to him.

Cynthia remembered what Mayla had told her about a delicate subject, one she said was better kept private.

Mayla had been induced into a coma because she had been close to Trafalgar. Trafalgar had acted because of it, and he was still working toward the day he could take revenge. Mayla had also told Cynthia how he got her out of that house, and even though she had no family name or status, he married her.

Aubrelle had told something similar.

How Trafalgar had thrown himself into a sea of Void Creatures simply to save her.

He was a strange man, at the very least.

Slow in romance many times, but not because he failed to notice everything. It was because he knew who he was, and what his name represented. Having someone close to him meant that person would always be in danger, whether they understood it or not.

Trafalgar knew that.

Aubrelle and Mayla knew it too.

And they stayed with him anyway.

Cynthia had understood her own feelings two months ago, after what she saw at the orphanage. Once she realized it, she did not waste time. When Cynthia wanted something, she preferred moving toward it instead of pretending the desire did not exist.

She was friends with Aubrelle, so she told her.

Aubrelle had not taken it badly. She had not even seemed surprised. She simply supported her.

Cynthia pushed the thought aside before it became heavier than she wanted.

”Let’s go to the restaurant,” she said. ”I haven’t eaten yet.”

Trafalgar glanced at her.

”You said earlier you had breakfast.”

”I can eat again. We must take advantage of this, remember what Director Selara said”

”Fair enough.”

He stored his luggage properly and stood.

They passed through several cars, moving from the academy wagon into the more public sections of the train. The restaurant car was easy to recognize before they entered it. The smell of warm bread, roasted meat, fruit, coffee, and expensive spices slipped through the doorway before it opened.

Inside, the restaurant looked more like a high-class lounge than a place built inside a train.

The tables were fixed to the floor, but the design hid it well. White cloth covered them, crystal glasses rested beside polished cutlery, and long windows stretched along both sides of the car, showing the platform outside and the distant movement of workers preparing departure. Soft mana lamps glowed above the tables, and stabilizing runes along the floor kept the car from trembling.

There were already people inside.

A dwarf in a formal vest argued quietly with a thin human merchant over a sealed case. Two aquatic humanoids with pale blue skin sat near the window, speaking in low voices over tea. A demonkin woman in a dark red suit read a document with bored patience, while a beastkin guard stood behind her chair like carved stone.

Everyone looked important.

16:19

Trafalgar and Cynthia took a table near the middle.

A waiter approached almost immediately.

He wore the train staff uniform perfectly: dark blue and silver, with gloves, a neat collar, and a small Council emblem near the chest. His hair was ash-brown today, cut shorter than usual, and a pair of thin glasses changed the shape of his face just enough that most people would never think twice about him.

Trafalgar recognized him instantly.

Caelum.

Of course.

Cynthia did not know who he was, so Trafalgar kept his expression normal.

The disguised Caelum gave a polite bow.

”Good morning. What would you like to order?”

Cynthia looked at the menu. ”Juice, toast, eggs, and something light with fruit.”

”The same,” Trafalgar said. ”And coffee.”

”Of course.”

Caelum wrote it down like a man who had spent his entire life serving breakfast on trains.

Cynthia stood a short while later, touching the edge of the table lightly.

”I’ll be back. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Trafalgar nodded.

Caelum moved away to place the order, then returned before Cynthia had fully left the car. He stopped beside Trafalgar’s table, posture still that of a waiter, face perfectly professional.

His voice lowered.

”Young Master. Everything is according to your orders.”

Trafalgar did not look up from the newspaper. But his fingers tightened slightly around the page.