SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The first day of classes passed faster than Trafalgar expected.

It was fairly chill, almost normal, which made it feel stranger than it should have. Second year had begun, but nothing dramatic happened. No sudden attack, strange announcement or assassin waiting on a rooftop or sea beast dragging him into the depths.

For once, the academy acted like an academy.

Trafalgar saw the professors he would have this year, and most of them were the same ones from the year before. That was good. He already knew how they worked, which ones were annoying, which ones were tolerable, and which ones were actually worth listening to.

This year, however, he no longer had the optional class from first year.

Apparently, that class only existed during the first year so students could explore things that interested them. After passing into the second year, that changed. Even though the academy remained neutral, the results of the first year always found their way outside sooner or later. Families, companies, minor houses, guilds, private groups, and even city authorities watched the rankings closely, waiting to recruit any talent worth taking.

It made sense.

The houses grew stronger that way.

The Eight Great Families did not usually use that method. They were far too careful about taking people from outside. A spy slipping through, a planted talent, someone loyal to another power; all of that was more trouble than it was worth. The great houses had their own systems, their own bloodlines, their own ways of raising strength without opening the door too widely.

But strong families below that level, like the Rosenthal, could afford to recruit. For them, talented academy students were an investment.

Because of that, many students who passed from first year to second year now used their free time differently, depending on what path they wanted. Some worked under professors. Some trained with private instructors. Some accepted minor house sponsorships. Others tried to build reputation before graduation. The academy had enough prestige that anyone who stood out here would almost certainly find a place somewhere.

Trafalgar was collecting his things inside Professor Rhaldrin’s classroom when the small professor raised his voice.

Rhaldrin looked different this year, though only in clothing. The rat-like humanoid still barely reached the height of a child, with grey fur, crimson eyes, and whiskers that moved whenever his thoughts ran faster than his mouth. This time, instead of his usual scholar robes, he wore a dark brown academic coat with bronze clasps and a narrow green scarf tied neatly around his neck.

”Bartholomew,” Rhaldrin said, his voice carrying well despite his size, ”stay a while longer. I would like your help with something.”

Bartholomew straightened at once.

”O-of course, professor.”

For someone who loved history as much as Barth did, Professor Rhaldrin was probably close to an idol. With all the knowledge the professor carried, it made sense. Bartholomew had become his assistant for the year, and from what Trafalgar understood, it was something Barth had chosen by his own initiative.

That was good.

He was finally making his own decisions.

Trafalgar closed his notebook and thought, ’Now that I think about it, he has been advancing a lot lately. I like that. He also has a pretty strict schedule he is following, because even though he is helping Professor Rhaldrin now, he is also training seriously. And helping at the orphanage from time to time.’

That was a lot for Barth.

But somehow, he seemed more alive with too much to do than with nothing demanding him.

Trafalgar left the classroom and waited in the hallway. Xavier had already gone because his mother had called him for something. Since Althea was one of the academy directors, it was normal that she needed him today, especially on the first day of the year. Zafira and Cynthia had also left, each with their own schedules.

Vivienne was still inside.

Trafalgar waited for her because after classes they had to go to Velkaris to see Rhosyn, Dravok, and Caelvyrn.

A few minutes later, Vivienne finally came out.

Long blue hair fell behind her shoulders, and her light eyes moved toward him with the same quiet hesitation she had carried since the morning. She looked less nervous now, but not fully used to the place yet.

Trafalgar pushed himself off the wall.

”Are we going?”

Vivienne nodded. ”Yes, let’s go.”

They took the train from the academy to Velkaris.

The ride was uneventful, which Trafalgar appreciated more than he said aloud. Vivienne stayed quiet for most of it, watching the city grow larger beyond the window while the train followed the mana rails into Velkaris. Trafalgar did not force conversation. She had spent her first day inside one of the most famous academies in the world. Letting her process it in peace was probably better.

Once they reached Velkaris, they made their way south.

The change in the district was obvious. The streets grew narrower, older, less carefully maintained. The buildings had more wear on them, more history pressed into the walls, and fewer people with the money or interest to pretend otherwise.

Eventually, they reached the same place where Trafalgar had met Dravok.

The bar looked as miserable as he remembered.

Old wood. Stained walls. A sign that had probably needed replacing ten years ago. Barely any sound from inside. It was the kind of place people passed without noticing unless they already knew where they were going.

Vivienne led the way down the stairs.

Inside, the bar was almost empty, as usual. The dwarf behind the counter looked up, saw who had entered, and wisely decided to say nothing beyond a stiff nod.

At the table waited three people.

Caelvyrn sat with one arm resting over the chair, long black hair falling around his shoulders, violet eyes bright with that old dragon confidence he never really hid. His horns curved from his head with an elegance that made him look less like a man hiding in a rotten bar and more like a king tolerating bad furniture for private amusement.

Rhosyn sat nearby, dressed in black as always. Black hair, black eyes, and a presence that seemed to swallow the poor lighting around her. She looked beautiful in that distant, dangerous way, though today there was exhaustion around her that even Trafalgar noticed.

Dravok sat across from them.

Brown hair touched with grey. Pale green eyes. Old scars visible along his face, neck, and arms where his rolled sleeves revealed them. He looked like a man carved down by wars, with just enough left to keep walking forward.

Trafalgar approached and took a seat at the table.

”Good afternoon,” he said. ”Finally, after all this time. How have you been?” His attention moved to Rhosyn. ”And you, Rhosyn?”

Rhosyn lifted one hand slowly and gave him a thumbs-up.

She looked tired enough that the gesture said more than any long answer could have.

Trafalgar blinked once.

”That bad?”

Rhosyn kept the thumb raised for another breath, then lowered it and leaned back in her chair as if even that had taken effort.

Caelvyrn seemed better. Dravok too. At least compared to her.

Dravok looked at Trafalgar, then at Vivienne beside him, and finally set his cup down.

”Good afternoon, Trafalgar,” he said. ”Well, let’s get straight to the point. This is important.”