SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The next day, Trafalgar waited by the wall beside the circular platform with a dark cloak already pulled over his shoulders, the hood lowered for now. He had no interest in drawing attention, especially not if they were going to Mariven Port.

If he had gone alone, he would not have cared much about being recognized. The situation changed with Zafira involved. He knew the lord of Mariven Port already, and the man had more than enough reasons to remember him after his idiot son tried to kill him and nearly dragged the Mariven family down with him.

Going there with Zafira was different.

A young man and a young woman, heirs of two of the Eight Great Families, walking around together in a trade city where information moved faster than ships. Friendship was one thing. Rumors were another. People loved placing words in other people’s mouths, twisting ordinary things into something dirtier or more convenient, and once that started, it spread on its own.

’She’s taking too long!

He had barely finished the thought when Zafira’s door opened.

She stepped out with the calm confidence she always carried, but this time there was something more deliberate in the way she had put herself together. Her violet hair had clearly been arranged with care, the fit of her clothes sharper than usual, and even the small details that most people would miss made it obvious she had spent time on it.

She stopped in front of him.

Trafalgar could not deny it. She looked good.

”Are we going already?” she asked.

”Yes... hm, wait. Take this.”

He tossed her the second cloak. Zafira caught it cleanly out of the air and unfolded it with one hand.

”And this is?”

”A cloak with a hood. Put it on so we don’t get recognized.” Trafalgar nodded toward the fabric. ”It has two openings for your horns. Don’t worry about that.”

Zafira looked at the cloak, then at him.

”How thoughtful of you,” she said.

The sarcasm was light, but it was there.

Trafalgar caught it at once. ”Are you annoyed?”

She let out a small breath through her nose. ”Yes. But I understand.” Her fingers brushed the fabric once. ”Two heirs from Great Families walking around

together like this would attract attention. I know that.” A pause followed,

quieter. ”It’s just a little irritating to spend that much time getting ready only for it to be covered up.”

Her voice lost the edge by the end.

”What do you think?” she asked, and this time the question came honestly.

Trafalgar answered without dressing it up. ”You look good.”

Zafira held his face for a second, as if checking whether he meant it. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her.

”I suppose it was worth the trouble, then.”

She draped the cloak over her shoulders, though she left the hood down. Trafalgar did the same, and together they stepped onto the platform.

The trip to Velkaris passed without anything memorable. The city greeted them with its usual rhythm, busy without ever feeling chaotic, and from there they made their way to the Gate Hub. Only when they reached the section connected to Mariven Port did they finally raise their hoods.

No one paid them more than a passing glance.

A little later, they crossed the Gate.

Blue mana folded around them for an instant, and when the world returned, salt met them first.

The wind carried it straight off the water, mixed with the smell of fish, tar, damp rope, and fresh cargo unloaded too recently for the scent of wood to fade. Ahead of them stretched Mariven Port, bright under the day sky and alive in the way only a city built around trade could be. Ships crowded the harbor, from lean coastal vessels to broad merchant hulks with heavy sails and deeper bellies. Cranes groaned above the docks as workers lifted crates stamped with foreign marks, sailors shouted over ledgers and curses, and guards moved through it all with the steady alertness of men who knew how much money passed through these streets every hour.

It was wealthy, noisy, and tightly held together.

Zafira stood there a little longer than expected, the breeze moving the edge of her cloak.

”It’s been a long time since I last saw the sea,” she said. ”Not since the excursion to the Primordial ruins. There’s even a beach over there.”

Trafalgar followed the direction of her voice. Some distance away, beyond the busier stretch of docks, the shoreline curved into a lighter strip where people

had gathered.

”Yes,” he said. ”Though that time we were in the ocean, more than anything. Under it, too. That’s a fairly large difference.”

A small smile touched her mouth. ”True.”

He glanced at her. ”You’ve never been to the beach?”

”Not really.” She turned slightly toward him. ”Do you want to go later?”

”We can.” Trafalgar adjusted the fall of his cloak. ”Later. First we need to stop by Augusto’s shop. It’s toward the outer part of the city. Come on.”

They started walking.

The streets of Mariven Port did not flow like Velkaris. Velkaris moved with mana lines, stations, schedules, and the measured pulse of a city built upward and inward. Mariven moved outward, always toward departure or arrival. Carts rolled under the weight of sealed boxes. Porters shouted for space. Traders argued over quantities before the cargo had even fully touched land.

Zafira took it in as they walked. ”It really is different from other cities. Everything here feels built around moving things in and out.”

Trafalgar nodded. ”Even with Gates, transporting loads like these is still better

by ship most of the time. It makes sense. Gates aren’t cheap to use, and for this level of cargo you’d need something much larger than the usual trade routes

rely on.”

”That’s true,” Zafira said. ”The resources needed for a Gate built just for that would be absurd.”

”Exactly.”

They kept moving through the port district, past warehouses, rope sellers, fishmongers, and storefronts that displayed foreign goods with the kind of pride that only came from profitable demand. The traffic thinned little by little

as they moved away from the central docks.

Then Trafalgar saw it.

Augusto’s shop had come into view.