SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The Primordials needed to be found.

Dravok knew where some of them were. That knowledge should have been useful. Instead, it sat out of reach because going to them now would likely get Trafalgar killed. The survivors hated, feared, remembered, and carried old wounds with names attached to them. His mother’s name might be one of those wounds.

His own existence might be enough to make them reach for a weapon.

So that door remained closed for now.

The academy. Valttair. Esmond. Vaelion. Selara’s homunculus. Void Creatures. Primordials.

And, because the Morgain family apparently refused to be outdone by ancient horrors, there was Rivena and Lysandra.

Trafalgar’s mouth tightened.

’That is the one I like least,’ he thought. ’What is that bitch planning?’

Rivena had never struck him as someone who moved without purpose. Lysandra’s involvement only made it worse. Family problems were supposed to be petty, poisonous things over inheritance, reputation, and wounded pride. Somehow, even that had begun smelling like something deeper.

Once the academy ended, the work being prepared by Dravok, Caelvyrn, and Rhosyn should be ready. Rhosyn had already finished her part, or close enough to it. Caelvyrn and Dravok were still handling the rest, which meant the hidden domain would become unavoidable sooner rather than later.

’I should meet Rhosyn again,’ Trafalgar thought. ’It has been a while. I wonder what she is doing.’

Cynthia shifted against him.

Trafalgar noticed at once.

Her arm tightened over him before her eyes opened properly, and for a few breaths she only remained there, caught between sleep and the awareness that she was not in her own bed. The color rose slowly to her face when memory returned.

Trafalgar watched it happen with some interest.

”Good morning,” he said. ”Did you sleep well?”

Cynthia blinked, her golden eyes focusing on him through the loose curtain of her white hair. She looked tired, warm, embarrassed, and annoyed that he had managed to be awake first.

”Yes,” she murmured, before shifting slightly and immediately regretting it. Her expression tightened, and she pressed one hand against his chest as if blaming him for gravity. ”Though my hips hurt, and getting up might be more difficult than I expected.”

Trafalgar’s mouth curved.

”That happens when you get carried away.”

Cynthia’s embarrassment vanished behind offense with impressive speed.

She lifted her head fully, white hair spilling over his chest, and glared at him with the first proper sign that the old Cynthia had survived the night perfectly intact.

”I got carried away?” she said, voice still rough from sleep, but already sharpening. ”How convenient. I suppose you were lying there suffering nobly the entire time.”

Trafalgar looked at her. ”I suffered several things.”

Cynthia stared at him for a breath, and despite the flush still clinging to her face, the corner of her mouth betrayed her. She tried to hide it by lowering her forehead against his chest, but Trafalgar saw enough.

After a few moments, they finally got out of bed.

Cynthia immediately regretted moving too quickly.

A faint wince crossed her face, and she grabbed the edge of the bed for support.

Trafalgar noticed.

”Careful.”

”I am fine,” Cynthia replied automatically.

”You are clearly not.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when another step proved his point.

Trafalgar simply walked over and steadied her before she could protest further.

Cynthia looked away, embarrassed.

”This is your fault.”

”Mine? Do I need to remember the things you said?”

Trafalgar opened his mouth.

”Quote-unquote, ’Cu—’”

Cynthia immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, her face turning bright red.

”No need. I remember it perfectly well, you goose.”

His answer only made her face grow warmer.

Once she recovered enough to stand comfortably, they headed toward the bathroom.

The original plan had been simple. Shower, get dressed, and start dealing with the endless list of problems waiting for Trafalgar.

Unfortunately, Cynthia had other ideas.

One look had turned into another. Trafalgar had already been struggling with the sight of her, and Cynthia, apparently deciding that the morning had not yet been sufficiently distracting, had taken full advantage of that fact.

The result was that their shower ended up taking considerably longer than expected.

Fortunately for everyone involved, neither of them intended to discuss the details.

By the time they finally finished, the hot water had long since done its job, and both of them looked far more awake than before.

Once they returned to the room, they began getting dressed properly.

Trafalgar handed her the pieces of clothing scattered around the room while she fixed her appearance, and when her long white hair inevitably became a tangled mess, he helped her sort it out despite the look of disbelief she gave him.

”You know how to do this?”

”I have two wives, soon to be three I hope.”

”...Fair.”

By the time they finished, Cynthia looked presentable again, though the faint color on her cheeks refused to disappear completely.

Trafalgar adjusted his own clothes while Cynthia made a final inspection of herself.

Satisfied, she nodded.

”I think that’s acceptable.”

”You spent five minutes checking.”

”Because unlike you, I care about appearances.”

”You care too much.”

”And yet you’re still looking.”

Trafalgar wisely chose not to answer that. ’How can you expect me not to look, argh.’

A few minutes later, the two of them stepped out of the platform and headed toward the academy cafeteria.

The morning rush had already begun. Students filled the tables, conversations overlapping into a constant background murmur.

Trafalgar immediately spotted two familiar figures.

Zafira and Barth were seated together near one of the windows, already eating breakfast.

Barth noticed them first.

His entire face lit up.

Not with the nervous panic he usually displayed whenever Trafalgar appeared unexpectedly, but with genuine enthusiasm.

”Trafalgar!” he called, raising a hand.

Then his gaze shifted toward Cynthia.

His smile somehow widened.

Zafira looked up next.

Her eyes moved from Trafalgar to Cynthia.

Then back to Trafalgar.

Then to Cynthia again.

A brief silence followed.

Finally, she tilted her head slightly and said:

”You smell the same.”

The table went completely quiet.