SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

”So, Caelum,” Trafalgar said, looking at the body on the bed, ”my question is simple. How long has Halbrecht been like this?”

Caelum stood beside him, both of them facing the true and living Orven von Halbrecht. The man lay on a narrow bed in some discreet room tucked away from Aurevane’s better streets, breathing evenly, his face carrying the worn irritation of an engineer even in sleep. Trafalgar did not know how Caelum had acquired this place, how many faces had been worn to secure it, or how many people had walked past the door without remembering it existed. At this point, asking felt less like curiosity and more like volunteering for a headache.

Today was the day Orven von Halbrecht woke up.

The homunculus issue had been contained for now. Aurevane’s records would be copied and delivered into Trafalgar’s hands, regardless of whatever softer wording the officials preferred to use. Selara would take responsibility for the homunculus, with Matteo helping preserve the legal trail. Esmond would be moved as well, alive, sealed, drugged, and watched closely enough that even breathing too creatively might offend Caelum.

Killing Esmond would have been easier.

Trafalgar had thought that from the start. One cut, one corpse, one monster less in the world. The problem was that Esmond’s life had become a key, and keys were irritatingly useful before they were thrown away. If his testimony could prove that the Vaelion had used him, if the connection to Icarus and the war could be placed before the right eyes, House Vaelion would find itself standing under a very different light. And if Trafalgar told Valttair everything now, without control, without timing, without a plan, a war might begin before the day ended.

Caelum had said Valttair could be reached.

He had also made it clear that Lord Valttair would not leave his current training until he chose to. That left Trafalgar with copies, a living witness, a hidden prisoner, and a city full of people pretending today was still about innovation and applause.

Caelum had said Valttair could be reached.

He had also made it clear that Lord Valttair would not leave his current training until he chose to. That left Trafalgar with copies, a living witness, a hidden prisoner, and a city full of people pretending today was still about innovation and applause.

Trafalgar scratched the back of his neck, his gaze returning to Caelum. ”I imagine you’ll wake him the same way you woke Matteo. Although doing it here sounds like a bad idea. He’ll have questions, and I doubt ’you were kidnapped by a man wearing your face’ will calm him down.”

”Do not worry, Young Master,” Caelum said. ”Director Selara and Lord Matteo provided a vehicle. It is waiting outside. I will take Master von Halbrecht to his home, place him in his bed, adjust his surroundings, and leave before he opens his eyes.”

Trafalgar looked at him. ”So you already planned the part where the victim wakes up comfortably confused.”

”Yes, Young Master.”

”That sounds more like you.”

Caelum accepted the comment with a small bow, as if being called terrifyingly prepared was a normal compliment. Perhaps for him, it was. He moved to the table, where Halbrecht’s ring, gloves, tools, and documents had been arranged in the exact order required to return a man to his own life with minimal damage to reality.

Trafalgar watched him work for a while. ”The main event starts in a few hours. I’m leaving this to you. I promised Cynthia I’d go with her.”

”Understood.” Caelum checked the dose in a small vial, held it to the light, and stored it. ”I will report once Master von Halbrecht has been returned.”

”Alright, see you later then.”

Trafalgar left the room without another word.

Outside, Aurevane had dressed itself for its most important day. Banners hung between pale towers, carriages rolled toward the central castle-like venue, and guests moved through the streets in formal clothes that made the city look cleaner than it deserved. The air smelled of perfume, polished metal, hot bread, and expensive nerves.

Cynthia waited near the corner.

Trafalgar stopped walking.

She had dressed for the event. Her long hair fell down her back in a smooth spill, brushed with more care than usual, catching sunlight along the strands when she turned her head.

The dress was one he had never seen before, dark and fitted without looking fragile, open at the back in a way that showed the athletic lines of her shoulders and the strength beneath her usual guarded posture. Cynthia had never needed softness to look good. Today made that point rather aggressively.

She noticed him looking. Cynthia lifted one brow, though the corner of her mouth was already betraying her. ”What are you staring at?”

Trafalgar did not blink, nor did he pretend to be caught doing something accidental. He had looked because he wanted to look, and if she was going to ask, she could suffer the answer.

”You.”

Cynthia’s composure cracked, but not completely. She was far too stubborn for that. But the reply struck before she had built a shield for it. Her skin, already sun-warmed from training outside, darkened with a visible blush across her cheeks, and she looked away with the speed of someone suddenly interested in the street stones.

”That was very direct,” she muttered.

”You asked.”

”I did not ask you to answer like that.”

”You should have been more specific then.”

Cynthia adjusted the strap of her small bag, using the motion to recover herself. ”Are you ready? The others are probably already heading to the venue.”

”Ready enough.”

They began walking toward the castle-like hall at the heart of Aurevane.

For a while, the city did most of the talking. Guests filled the roads in bright coats and jeweled collars. Assistants hurried behind scholars carrying cases, rolled diagrams, sealed vials, and enough nervous paperwork to build a second tower. Guards kept the flow moving with polite commands that sounded rehearsed within an inch of their lives. Above them, suspended banners announced the Grand Alchemical Conclave in gold-threaded letters.

Cynthia walked beside him, quieter than usual at first.

Trafalgar glanced at her. ”Are you nervous?”

Cynthia kept her eyes on the road ahead for a breath before answering. ”A little. It’s the first time I’ll be at an event like this.”

”Same for me,” Trafalgar said.

She turned her head toward him, studying his face as they continued walking. ”By the way, how did that matter go?”

Trafalgar’s steps did not slow.