SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Cynthia waited for his answer. Trafalgar held the suitcase in one hand and let his attention drift past her, toward the lower floor where students, guests, staff, and half the departing crowd moved through Aurevane’s polished corridors as though the city had handed them exactly what it promised. A grand event. A winner. A harmless story to carry home. He almost envied them for a breath.

”For me,” he said at last, ”it’s more complicated.”

”That sounds like something you say when you don’t want to explain.”

”It happens to be true as well. Both can fit in the same sentence.”

”I know.” She adjusted the strap of her bag across her shoulder and turned toward the exit beside him. ”I’m just learning that with you they usually do.”

Trafalgar glanced at her. ”That makes me sound difficult.”

”You are difficult. I’ve stopped trying to phrase it kindly.”

”That’s... fair.”

That earned the smallest curve from her mouth, and for some reason it sat better than any answer he could have given. They walked out together, joining the stream of students filtering toward the station. Aurevane wore a different face on the way out. Workers were already hauling banners down from balconies, vendors packed half-emptied trays, and guests argued over the best presentation as though every one of them had witnessed the same harmless day. The name Orven von Halbrecht kept threading through the crowd, usually followed by praise for his unexpected mentorship or laughter about the sour expression he’d worn on stage.

Cynthia tilted her head toward a pair of scholars debating Arlen’s invention. ”People liked the final presentation.”

”It deserved that much.”

They reached the station with the rest of the Academy group. After the attack on the way out, the return procedure had grown teeth - more guards, more ward plates, more inspections of luggage, more officials speaking in calm voices while checking everything twice.

Selara moved through the platform at a distance, speaking with staff and wearing the face of a woman who had slept poorly and decided the world could pay for it. Trafalgar caught sight of her only briefly. The homunculus was nowhere visible, which meant Selara had handled that part already or hidden her well enough that even curious eyes turned up nothing to catch.

Cynthia followed his glance. ”Director Selara looks tired.”

”She had a long few days.”

”Because of what you were doing?”

”Partly.”

Cynthia hummed, accepting the limit without pretending she enjoyed it. ”That word does a lot of work around you.”

”It’s a useful word. As you can see.”

She shook her head, though the corner of her mouth gave her away again. When the boarding call came, they entered the train with the others. The seats had been arranged in grouped compartments, and Cynthia dropped her bag by the window before Trafalgar could decide whether to ask where she intended to sit.

She glanced up. ”Unless you planned to sit somewhere else.”

”Not really.”

He took the seat across from her first, mostly because it made the most sense with the suitcase, though Cynthia pointed at the seat beside her with two fingers.

”Here.”

Trafalgar weighed the seat, then her. ”You’re getting bold.”

He moved beside her. The train gave a low metallic groan, the wards along the windows flared once, and Aurevane began to slide away from them inch by inch. Cynthia watched the city through the glass, her reflection layered over pale towers and retreating bridges. For a while, neither of them spoke. Eventually Cynthia broke the quiet.

”Did you ever finish your assignment? Or are you saving it for posterity?”

Trafalgar blinked. ”My assignment?”

”Yes. The very serious one Director Selara handed you.” Her expression turned far too innocent. ”What did she call it again? Alchemical breakfast?”

A laugh escaped him before he could bury it.

Cynthia turned. ”Was that really so funny?”

”No.” He rubbed at the side of his face, failing to mask the amusement. ”I didn’t expect you to remember it word for word.”

”I remember ridiculous things very well. It’s a curse.”

”Apparently.”

”You looked like you were about to laugh when she handed it over. That alone earned a permanent slot in my memory.” Cynthia leaned back slightly, watching him with open suspicion now. ”So. Did you complete your prestigious breakfast research, or did Aurevane deny the world a great scholar?”

”Unfortunately, my work in that field was interrupted.”

”Tragic. The advancement of breakfast science set back by years.”

”I know. Future generations will suffer in silence.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. ”Were you actually doing anything for the Academy while the rest of us had real tasks?”

”I was busy.”

”That word again.”

”It’s useful.”

Cynthia did not look convinced. She held her shoulder near the window, one hand resting over the strap of her bag, and gave him a stare that made it perfectly clear she wasn’t buying the polished version.

”You keep choosing words that leave half the room locked,” she said. ”Dangerous. Complicated. Partly. Useful. You make everything sound like a report someone forgot to finish.”

Trafalgar leaned back against the seat. ”Those are accurate words.”

”They’re convenient words. There’s a difference.” She angled her body toward him. ”I’m not asking you to drag me into whatever happened, Trafalgar. I know you won’t tell me everything. But when you speak like that, it feels like you’re trying to convince yourself nothing touched you.”

His amusement thinned, though it didn’t quite leave. ”You think I’m doing that?”

”I think you’re very good at walking away from awful things with your face arranged properly.” Her voice softened, not enough to lose its bite, but enough for him to hear the worry underneath it. ”And I think people probably mistake that for being fine.”

Trafalgar held her there for a beat.

Cynthia didn’t flinch, and that was becoming one of the most dangerous things about her. She didn’t force her way in, yet she also refused to look away once she noticed a crack. Somehow that made him want to answer more honestly than he had planned.

”I was doing something real,” he said at last. ”The paper Selara handed me was an excuse. A poor one, by the way. I’m still offended she decided alchemical breakfast was the best cover she could conjure.”

Cynthia stared at him. For several heartbeats, she only stared. Then her lips pressed together, and he could see the precise instant she was fighting not to laugh.

”So you admit it,” she said. ”While I was taking notes on arrow coatings, projectile behavior, impact spread, non-lethal force, stabilizing oils, and everything else she threw at me, you were strolling around with a fake assignment.”

”I had a very important fake assignment.”

”You had breakfast.”

”I was asked to study breakfast.”

”You’re enjoying this.”

”A little. Possibly more than a little.”

Cynthia huffed, though warmth had crept into her face. ”I knew the way she handed you that task was strange. You looked like you wanted to laugh, but you kept your face stiff because Selara was standing right there.”

”She would have shot me with something unpleasant if I’d laughed.”

”She might have deserved the laugh. Alchemical breakfast? Really? That was the best your alchemist genius director could improvise?”

”In her defense, she was improvising.”

”In my defense, I lost half a day comparing arrowhead coatings while you wandered Aurevane chasing secrets.”

”I came with you to the Conservatory.”

”You asked questions like a man hunting for hidden bodies under the floor.”

”That was useful.”

Cynthia gave him a look, though this time the annoyance had melted into something more familiar. ”The Conservatory was worth it, I’ll give you that. I wrote far more than I expected. The instructor might actually believe I became passionate about applied alchemical support for archers.”

”You did sound passionate.”

”I sounded annoyed with enough detail to pass as passion. The two are remarkably close cousins.”

”That is a talent.”

”I learned from the best.”

Trafalgar’s mouth curved. ”I’m honored.”

”You shouldn’t be.” She turned back toward the window for a breath, watching Aurevane’s towers retreat behind the train. ”I’m glad I went, even if I only understood a fraction of what was happening. I could tell that place was important.”

”It was.”

Cynthia nodded slowly. She didn’t ask for the full answer, and he noticed that. He noticed too much with her now.

”I wanted to follow you more than once,” she admitted. ”When you left, when Selara started moving differently. I thought about it. Several times.”