SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 452: Sylvar’s Funeral [III]

Night had fully settled over the Peak by the time Trafalgar returned to his chamber. The funeral had ended hours ago, yet sleep refused to come. He lay on the bed in silence, one arm behind his head while the other hovered idly over the translucent status window in front of him, his eyes moving over the numbers and letters without taking much of them in. Too much had happened in too little time, and even with the mountain wrapped in silence, his mind had not slowed enough to rest.

After a while, he gave up. He pushed himself off the bed and left the room, deciding to walk instead. This time he had no intention of returning to the Cemetery of Swords. The last time he wandered there, Armand had found him. Tonight he wanted to see more of the fortress itself.

As he moved through the cold stone corridors, his gaze drifted across the walls, the narrow windows, the intersections guarded by silent men in armor. This place felt even more secure than the main Morgain castle. The other Great Families probably knew it existed, but no one in their right mind would try to take anything from here.

The Peak was armed to the teeth, and somewhere beyond those walls stood a mountain filled with thousands of buried weapons, some of which were probably legendary.

Eventually he found a staircase leading upward. This was only the second time he had come here. He would probably return many more times in the future. One day he might even be the one driving another sword into that frozen ground. Or, depending on the kind of life he kept building for himself, he might not be there when it happened. That family was still not his family. He had never forgotten what Rivena and Maeron did to him. But for now, he would keep taking every advantage House Morgain offered.

At the top, he opened the door leading outside. Two guards turned the moment they saw him. "Good evening, Young Master."

Trafalgar lifted a hand in return. "Is it safe to walk up here?"

"Yes," one of them replied. "You only need to be careful with the winds. Though tonight seems calm."

Trafalgar looked past him into the darkness beyond the wall. Calm. The wind out there had to be well over two hundred kilometers per hour. That answer told him something simple. The men stationed at the Peak were not normal either.

The door behind him opened again. The two guards straightened immediately. "Good evening, Lady Lysandra."

Lysandra gave them a small nod and nothing else before her eyes settled on Trafalgar. The night wind moved lightly through her hair, and even here at the top of the fortress her presence carried the same calm weight it always did. "Do you want to take a walk?"

Trafalgar looked at her for a moment, then nodded once. "Let’s go."

They started moving along the wall together, their boots striking the stone in steady rhythm while the wind pulled at their cloaks. Beyond the battlements, the night stretched wide and cold over the mountain, the sky clear enough for stars to show through the drifting mist. Down below, darkness swallowed most of the world.

After a short silence, Trafalgar glanced at her. "Did you want something?"

Lysandra kept her gaze forward. "That obvious?" A faint breath left her nose before she continued. "I wanted to talk. We haven’t spoken since the last battle, and I wanted to know how you were doing."

That made him look at her more carefully. Once, their relationship had been colder, not hostile but distant in the way most things inside House Morgain had always been. Then, little by little, something changed. Trust came first. After that, familiarity. Now, for all the strangeness of this family, Lysandra was the only one he could truly look at and think of as family.

"That was it?" Trafalgar asked. "I’m normal, I guess. Did you expect me to be depressed because Sylvar died or something?"

"No," Lysandra said. "Honestly, this is what I expected."

Trafalgar looked back toward the dark horizon. "You know I don’t care what happens to the others, right? You know how they treated me. I don’t think they deserve warmth from me."

"I know," Lysandra said quietly. "But I won’t deny that losing Sylvar affected me. I watched him grow up."

Trafalgar’s expression tightened a fraction. "Can we not talk about that?"

Lysandra turned her eyes toward him briefly, then nodded. "Alright. We’ll change the subject."

"Then why did you come out here?"

Trafalgar kept his eyes ahead. "I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk. I wanted to see more of this place. The last time we came here, they made me Lord of Euclid and didn’t leave me alone for a second."

Lysandra gave a faint nod. "I see. This is my third time here."

That made him glance at her. "The third?"

"Yes. The first time was when one of our cousins died. You weren’t with us yet." Her gaze lowered briefly to the stone beneath their feet. "The family was as always. We are Morgains. We have to be strong. After a while it stops sounding like advice and starts sounding like a law."

The wind tugged at her hair again. "Many of them broke today, even if they tried to hide it. Elira. Others too. Nym most of all, because she had to kill him." Her voice softened slightly there, though it never lost its steadiness. "But all of us carry this curse of belonging to this family and having to adapt."

Then she turned her head and looked at him directly. "I think you know that better than anyone."

Trafalgar’s gaze lifted toward the night sky. The stars above the Peak looked cold, distant, and permanent, as though they had watched generations of Morgains rise, bleed, and vanish beneath them without caring in the slightest.

He stayed silent for a second. "I know that very well. Believe me."