SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Rhosyn’s question remained between them, heavier than the wind moving over the cliffside.

”And what is the complete version?”

Trafalgar sat near the edge with his legs hanging over the drop, his boots suspended above hundreds - maybe thousands - of meters of empty air. His hands rested on the cold stone beside him, his gaze lowered toward the city far below. It continued moving beneath them, all lamps and distant carriage lights, beautiful in the indifferent way cities always were from above. It was easier to speak from there. Easier than doing it inside a room, with walls close enough to make every hidden thing feel cornered.

”Trafalgar said at last. ”The Aurevane matter was worse than what Caelum is telling Valttair.”

He gave Rhosyn the shortened version, explaining what the homunculus really was, what some of Aurevane’s most powerful figures had intended to do with it, what it had been made from, who had been involved, and everything that had happened afterward. He mentioned Orven, Esmond, Selara, Matteo, the sealed records, and the fact that the whole affair had ended far messier than most people would ever learn.

He did not dress the words in pity. He had seen enough in Aurevane to know pity did very little once the damage had already been done. What remained was control. Names. Records. Custody. The hard, unglamorous parts of making sure a horror did not crawl back out wearing a different face.

Rhosyn looked toward the city, black eyes unreadable in the mana glow rising from below. ”Fuck...” she murmured, the word quiet but stripped of softness. ”More happened than I expected.”

”Yes.”

”I hope you know exactly where that homunculus is,” Rhosyn said, turning her head toward him. ”Because if she becomes a threat, I will not hesitate to go there and kill her, Trafalgar. I mean that.”

Trafalgar met her gaze without flinching. There was no offense in his face, no attempt to defend a creature that might one day become a blade in someone else’s hand. Compassion had its place. So did execution, when the alternative was letting a manufactured leash drag more corpses behind it.

”Don’t worry,” he said. ”I have thought the same.”

Rhosyn held his gaze for a few breaths longer, as if measuring whether he meant it. Whatever she found there satisfied her enough. She looked away first, but the edge in her posture did not leave. It remained under the skin, quiet and ready.

Trafalgar let the subject rest there. Aurevane had enough weight to fill an entire night if he allowed it, and he had no desire to turn this conversation into a confession chamber. There was something else Rhosyn needed to hear, something more personal and possibly more dangerous in a different way.

”There is another thing,” he said.

Rhosyn’s attention returned to him.

”I am with Cynthia now.”

For the first time since the conversation had begun, Rhosyn’s expression shifted in a way that was almost human. Not surprise exactly. She had known Trafalgar long enough to understand that people gathered around him whether he invited them or not. But this was different from alliances, servants, family politics, and battlefield debts. This touched the fragile circle close to his life.

”Cynthia,” Rhosyn repeated. ”Bartholomew’s sister.”

”Yes.”

”You told her about yourself then? That is why you are telling me?”

”I did.”

Rhosyn studied him, her black clothing moving faintly with the wind. ”Everything about you?”

Trafalgar’s answer came without hesitation. ”No. I told her about my blood, about the Primordials, about part of what is happening, and why the people close to me needed to know enough to stop walking blind. But not everything.”

Rhosyn waited.

”The other world will stay buried forever,” Trafalgar said. ”That secret goes with me to the grave. Only you know, since you are the one who bringed me here.”

The words came out colder than he expected, but he did not regret them. There were truths a person could share and survive. There were others that changed every room they entered. His old life, the body he had stolen or inherited or been forced into - whatever name anyone wanted to carve onto that wound - was not something he would place in another person’s hands.

Rhosyn looked at him for a long time.

Trafalgar exhaled quietly through his nose. ”Are you angry because I told her?”

”No,” Rhosyn said. The answer was firm, without heat. ”I am not angry.”

That should have eased something. It did not.

”But you think I made a mistake,” Trafalgar said.

”I think you made a choice.” Rhosyn turned back toward the city, voice controlled. ”Those are not the same thing.”

Trafalgar stayed quiet, letting her continue.

”You care about her. That much is evident. I will not condemn you for refusing to build your relationships on lies and half-answers.” Rhosyn’s gaze remained on the lights below, but her words were aimed at him with precise force. ”However, you need to understand what knowledge does to people around you. It does not only protect them. It stains them with your danger.”

Trafalgar’s fingers tightened once against the stone beside him.

Rhosyn went on, ”Cynthia knowing about your blood makes her a risk to those who want the truth hidden. It also makes her valuable to those who want the truth exposed. The same applies to Mayla and Aubrelle. Every person who knows a piece of you becomes harder to leave untouched.”

”I know.”

”Knowing and accepting are different things.”

”I accepted it before telling them.”

Rhosyn looked at him again. ”Good to hear. Because this cannot reach the world. Your blood, my existence, the Primordials, the Void Creatures, the way your soul arrived here - all of it would become a weapon the moment it left your circle.”

Trafalgar listened without interrupting. The warning was not new, but hearing it spoken with that much care made it less abstract. He could almost see the paths branching from one loose word. Cynthia dragged into a family interrogation. Mayla used as leverage. Aubrelle questioned under the mask of diplomacy.

Rhosyn’s voice softened, though only slightly. ”I am not asking you to trust no one. That would be useless advice. You have already chosen your people. But do not mistake intimacy for safety. The world is very good at punishing both.”

Trafalgar lowered his eyes to the lamps below. ”Cynthia deserved to know enough. She was already involved, and I was not going to keep pretending the danger around me was normal.”

”That is your decision.”

”You disagree?”

”I would have waited longer.”

”Of course you would, that sounds very like you, but I don’t regret doing so.”

”Yes,” Rhosyn said. ”Because I have lost more people to truth than to ignorance.”

That stopped him from answering.

The wind crossed the cliffside again, colder this time, pressing Trafalgar’s coat against his arms. He understood what she meant. Maybe not fully. Maybe no one could unless they had lived through the eras she carried behind those black eyes. But he understood enough to know this was not caution for caution’s sake. Rhosyn did not fear truth because she was weak. She feared what people did once they learned it.

Trafalgar’s voice came lower. ”I will be careful.”

”I hope so.”

”I mean it.”

”I know you do.” Rhosyn’s gaze remained steady. ”That is why I am warning you now, while the circle is still small enough to protect.”

Trafalgar absorbed that, the city lights reflecting faintly in his dark-blue eyes. Small enough to protect. That was the problem with every secret. At first, it was a sealed room. A person. A promise. Later, it became a house with too many doors, and everyone inside believed they knew which ones were locked.

He drew one leg back from the empty air, shifting on the cliff’s edge until he faced Rhosyn fully.

”What are you planning to do now?”