SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Everyone’s attention turned to Maris and Darian. This was, after all, one of the main reasons Darian had called Trafalgar here. Trafalgar had already wanted to see him again eventually, but the patriarch of House Thal’zar had clearly had something more immediate in mind, and if House Morgain was involved, Trafalgar needed the whole story before deciding what any of it meant.

Darian was the one who answered. ”Besides asking about the situation inside our family, they offered us something.” His expression tightened slightly. ”They started by talking about the war. How House Thal’zar had been treated unfairly, how much we’d lost, how the Sylvanels and Morgains had taken advantage of us afterward.” He paused before adding, ”And if I’m being honest, I don’t completely disagree with that part.”

Trafalgar didn’t object, because there wasn’t much there to argue with. Darian continued. ”But that wasn’t really the point. They were building toward something. Making sure we remembered every reason we might resent the current situation before offering us a secret alliance.”

Trafalgar leaned forward slightly. ”Between House Thal’zar and House Morgain?”

”More specifically, between us and the people behind the approach.”

”Something similar to what you and I already have.”

Maris nodded. ”That was the impression they wanted to give. Cooperation kept away from the rest of the Great Families.”

Cynthia frowned from beside Trafalgar. ”If they’re hiding it from their own family as well, I doubt the reason is good.”

”It isn’t,” Trafalgar said. ”Maeron doesn’t move pieces like this because he suddenly feels generous.” He looked toward Darian again. ”Did they say what they wanted from you?”

”Nothing direct.” Darian rested his forearms against his knees. ”But if I trust my instincts after spending the last few years dealing with people like this, he’s preparing something. Whatever it is, he thinks having House Thal’zar behind him would be useful.”

”Political support?”

”Possibly. Military support too. Maybe both.”

That fit disturbingly well. Trafalgar’s fingers rested against his knee as he thought through it. Maeron approaching dissatisfied branches first made sense. If Darian could’ve been weakened internally, perhaps Maeron would’ve preferred dealing with whoever replaced him, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d gone higher.

What the whole picture told him was worse than the details. A man does not go looking for a Great Family’s army in secret because he intends to win an argument at a dinner table. Maeron was building toward something he expected to need soldiers for, and he was doing it a long way from anywhere Valttair might notice.

”Have either of you answered him?”

Maris shook her head. ”No. Once the approach reached Darian and me, I recommended that we delay giving any real answer until this meeting.”

Darian nodded. ”I agreed. When they contacted my siblings and my father’s widows, they were testing how much influence those people actually had. Once they realised most of them couldn’t offer much, the approach eventually reached us.”

”Does the rest of your family know?”

”They know there were contacts,” Darian said. ”They don’t know exactly what was offered or who we’ve tied it back to. For now, I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

Trafalgar gave a slow nod. ”Hm.” It could mean several things, and none of them were particularly comforting.

He looked at Darian for a few seconds before asking something that caught the tiger Beastkin off guard. ”What do you think of me?”

Darian’s ears shifted slightly. ”That’s a sudden change of subject.”

”It counts, before I tell you what I’m about to tell you.”

That removed any humour from the question, and Darian sat a little straighter in his chair. For all the years that had passed, Trafalgar knew there was still fear there. Darian had watched him make one decision years ago and kill Lucien because of it. Trafalgar hadn’t hesitated then, and Darian had never forgotten what that meant.

But fear wasn’t the only thing holding their relationship together anymore. Darian had grown into his position. He led a Great Family now, with an army rebuilt and borders of his own and every reason to want a shorter leash on his neck. If he still chose to stand beside Trafalgar after all this time, Trafalgar wanted to hear him say it out loud, in his own house, in front of his own sister.

Darian answered carefully. ”What I think hasn’t changed as much as you might expect. If anything, I respect you more now than I did then.” He held Trafalgar’s gaze. ”I know where I am because of the decisions you made. I also know you could’ve used everything you knew about me far more cruelly than you ever did.”

Trafalgar said nothing to that, and let him keep going. ”I don’t think we’re equals, if that’s what you’re asking,” Darian continued. Maris looked toward her brother but didn’t interrupt, and his tail moved once behind his chair. ”You’re ahead of me. You were back then too, even if I am older. I don’t particularly enjoy admitting it, but pretending otherwise would be childish.”

That was the answer Trafalgar wanted. ”Good.”

His voice changed enough that Cynthia noticed immediately. ”Because what I’m going to tell you now isn’t information I’m giving to the patriarch of another Great Family simply because we’re friendly.” Trafalgar looked between Darian and Maris. ”I’m telling you because I expect House Thal’zar to remain on my side. If either of you intends to change that, this is the moment to say it.” He let a beat go by. ”I’d rather not have to repeat what happened years ago.”

The room went quiet in a way it hadn’t all afternoon. Maris’s posture tightened, and she had gone very careful about where she put her eyes. Darian didn’t look away from him at all.

Over by the door, something moved. Varek had understood exactly what that sentence was. Trafalgar caught it without turning his head, the wolf Beastkin’s hands hanging at his sides and the nails on them running out long and dark, some skill working under the skin, the man’s weight already coming forward onto the front of his feet. He hadn’t drawn anything. He was simply getting ready to.

Trafalgar didn’t stand up, didn’t call Maledicta, and didn’t raise his voice. ”If you aren’t going to use a weapon, don’t show me one.” He said it flatly, to nobody in particular. ”And keep your dog on a leash, Darian. You just told me nothing between us has changed. So put your house in order.”

Darian’s head turned. ”Varek.”

That was all of it. One word, from a man whose voice carried the weight of a patriarch now, and the claws drew back into ordinary hands. Varek lowered his head, stepped away from the middle of the room, and put his back against the wall where he had been standing before.

”Forgive me, my lord,” he said, and it wasn’t clear which of the two of them he meant.

Trafalgar let it go there, because the point had already been made, and the man who’d made it had been Darian.

Trafalgar continued before either of them spoke. ”If I trust you with what comes next, I expect it to stay here. I won’t have it used against me, passed to Maeron, passed to the Sylvanels, or turned into another bargaining chip between the Eight.”

Darian answered first. ”You have my word.”

Maris followed after a brief pause, and her voice came out steadier than the rest of her. ”And mine.”

Trafalgar watched both of them for another second before sitting back. ”Then there are things you need to understand.”