SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 355: Chapter 355: The Gathering [II]

Trafalgar was already on the ground when they reached him.

Snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he came to a stop in the courtyard, the cold settling into his coat while the weight of countless eyes lingered just out of reach. Before anyone else could approach, four figures broke away from the gathered crowd.

Anthera was the first he saw.

She wore a smile as she came closer, tired but genuine, the kind that didn’t belong in a place like this. The cold mountain air tugged at her red hair, and for a moment, the courtyard seemed to fade around her.

”I’m glad to see you, Trafalgar,” she said warmly. ”How have you been, after all this time?”

Sylis stood just behind her, a little straighter than Trafalgar remembered, with the two small twins flanking her—one already fidgeting, the other staring up at him with open curiosity.

Trafalgar felt something loosen in his chest.

He really was glad to see them. Truly.

They weren’t like the rest of the Morgain. Not Anthera. Not Sylis. They were the only ones he could honestly call family. And that made their presence here... strange.

They had distanced themselves from the house after Mordrek died protecting Euclid. They had wanted nothing to do with Morgain after that.

”I’ve been doing well,” Trafalgar replied, looking at all of them in turn. ”What matters is you. How have you been?” He hesitated, then added, ”I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with House Morgain again.”

Anthera’s smile thinned, her eyes sharpening with exhaustion and something heavier beneath it. ”That was the plan,” she admitted. ”After Mordrek left us, yes. That was the plan.”

She glanced briefly at the castle looming above them. ”But life doesn’t always allow us that kind of choice.” Then her gaze returned to him. ”I saw Euclid. It’s doing well. I’m glad you’re taking care of our old territory, Trafalgar.”

Sylis stepped forward then, a small smile tugging at her lips. ”I also heard what you did for the library,” she said. ”Seems like you really liked it... after all that time.”

Trafalgar scratched the back of his neck. ”You can visit whenever you want,” he said honestly. ”You know Euclid is still your home.”

Anthera nodded. ”Thank you.”

Before anything else could be said, the twins suddenly rushed forward, one clinging to each of Trafalgar’s legs. He laughed softly and rested a hand on each of their heads.

”You’ve grown a lot,” he said quietly.

Anthera’s gaze shifted subtly, sweeping the courtyard around them. The warmth from a moment ago didn’t vanish, but it tightened. She rested a hand on one of the twins’ shoulders and leaned closer, lowering her voice so only Trafalgar could hear.

”Trafalgar... be careful,” she said quietly. ”I mean it.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and saw it clearly—the concern she wasn’t trying to hide.

”I care about you,” Anthera continued. ”Like a son. Even if we haven’t spent that much time together.” Her eyes softened. ”Mordrek felt the same way. He always did.”

The name settled between them, heavy but familiar.

”I know the family says this gathering is about the war outside,” Anthera went on, her tone sharpening just a little. ”And maybe that’s true. But don’t fool yourself.” Her gaze locked onto his. ”You’re the real focus here.”

Trafalgar didn’t interrupt.

”You’re holding Euclid at your age,” she said. ”That alone would be enough.” She hesitated, then added, ”And your engagement with the Rosenthal family. With Aubrelle.” Her jaw tightened. ”All of that puts you right at the center of the family’s attention.”

Sylis stepped closer, her expression mirroring Anthera’s worry. She didn’t say anything, but the way her hands clasped together said enough.

The twins looked up at Trafalgar, sensing the shift even if they didn’t understand it. They stayed close, quieter now.

Trafalgar listened, then nodded slowly.

”I know,” he said calmly. There was no surprise in his voice. No denial. ”You don’t have to warn me.”

He glanced around the courtyard, at the castle rising above them, at the people watching from a distance. ”It’s always been like this in the our family.”

Anthera studied him for a moment longer, then straightened slightly, her expression a mix of pride and worry.

Snow continued to fall around them, soft and relentless.

And Trafalgar stood there, fully aware that no matter what the gathering claimed to be about, every path here led back to him.

The shift came without warning.

Valttair’s voice cut through the courtyard, impossible to ignore. ”Everyone. Inside.”

The sound carried, pressing down on the gathered family with the weight of command. The massive doors of the castle responded at once, stone grinding against stone as they opened wide, spilling warm light into the snow-filled courtyard.

Movement followed immediately.

Valttair didn’t allow the wives to split off. He didn’t let side conversations form or small groups peel away. Everyone moved together, drawn forward as a single mass, boots crunching against the snow as they passed beneath the towering entrance.

The intent was obvious.

Whether anyone else understood it or not, Valttair did.

All eyes were meant to stay on Trafalgar.

He remained where he was as the others advanced, watching backs disappear through the doors one by one. The courtyard slowly emptied, the noise fading until only the wind and the distant snort of wyverns remained.

Less and less people stayed behind.

Until, finally, there were only a few left.

Servants and handlers near the edges.

The drivers of the flying vessels.

Wyverns shifting against their restraints.

The ships, quiet and looming.

And at the center of it all—

Armand.

Valttair.

Trafalgar.

It was his turn.

Valttair’s gaze settled on him, steady and unreadable. Then he spoke again, this time not as a commander addressing a gathering, but as a man addressing someone specific.

”You did well,” he said. ”Your first official mission was handled properly.”

He paused, just long enough for the next word to land.

”Son.”

The word struck harder than Trafalgar expected.

It lingered, heavy, pulling at questions he still didn’t have answers to. About blood. About intent. About whether that word was symbolic—or something closer to the truth. Valttair’s opinion of him was high. Trafalgar knew that. As an asset. As potential. As something worth shaping.

Still, it was a risk.

But Trafalgar took it anyway.

”Thank you,” he said, steady. Then, after the briefest hesitation, ”Uncle.”

The reaction was immediate.

Valttair’s eyes widened, just slightly. Armand’s gaze snapped toward them, unmistakably surprised.

The air seemed to tighten.

The snow fell thicker, colder, as if the mountain itself had reacted. The winter of Morgain pressed down harder, biting deeper into stone and bone alike.

No one spoke.

One word had been enough.

And in that silence, Trafalgar knew—

something fundamental had shifted.