SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 358: The Gathering [V]

Elira was the next to speak.

She sat to Trafalgar’s right, posture relaxed, expression mild enough to pass for harmless if one didn’t know better. Her eyes slid toward him with practiced ease, lips curving faintly.

"By the way," she said, as if it were an afterthought, "how is your maid doing, Trafalgar?" A pause, delicate. "I’ve heard she’s doing quite well." Her gaze lingered. "Still, I didn’t expect a Morgain to keep someone like that so close. I suppose..." she smiled thinly, "...destiny has a habit of repeating itself. Like mother, like—"

Maeron laughed. He leaned back in his chair, sound sharp and ugly as it cut through the room.

"Oh, that?" he said, still grinning. "I remember it clearly. The way her body gave out. Just collapsed." He shook his head, amused. "A really pleasant memory, honestly."

Something in the air shifted.

Helgar didn’t miss the opening.

"Oh yes," he added, voice dripping with contempt. "And the new engagement too. A blind girl." He scoffed. "Figures. Bastards don’t get choices. Just leftovers. In everything."

Trafalgar had tolerated a lot in this room. Always had. Insults aimed at him were familiar—predictable, dull. He’d learned long ago how to let them pass without sticking.

But Mayla.

Aubrelle.

That line didn’t exist.

Lysandra moved first, turning sharply as if to shut it down—but Trafalgar’s hand settled lightly against her leg beneath the table.

She stilled.

’I’ve got this,’ the gesture said.

Trafalgar lifted his gaze.

The laughter around the table died instantly.

"For people who call themselves Morgain," he said calmly, "you all have a remarkable talent for sounding like animals."

His eyes went to Maeron first.

"You’re laughing," Trafalgar continued, voice steady. "But I’m curious—what exactly was the mission Father sent you on that day?" A pause. "Because if I recall correctly, you didn’t come back in very good condition."

The smile slipped.

It was true. Everyone at the table knew it. The punishment Valttair had given Maeron after that incident had been severe. Brutal. The kind meant to leave a lasting impression.

Maeron’s jaw tightened. He tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Trafalgar didn’t wait.

His gaze shifted to Rivena—only briefly. He didn’t say her name. Didn’t address her at all. He looked at her with open disgust, then moved on as if she weren’t worth the breath.

Helgar was next.

"Helgar," Trafalgar said softly. "Your relevance in this house is about equal to a servant’s." His eyes flicked over him once. "Your mother contributes nothing either. She’s spent her entire life standing in Seraphine’s shadow."

A beat.

"Speaking of which," Trafalgar added, glancing around the hall, "I haven’t seen Seraphine. Did something happen?" He tilted his head. "Actually—never mind. It’s better not having that viper here. I think we’re all better off."

The reaction was immediate.

Maeron surged to his feet, chair scraping loudly against stone. Rivena’s expression twisted, fury flashing openly now.

"Because of you," Maeron snapped, voice sharp. "Because of you, she isn’t here. She’s been confined somewhere else."

Trafalgar looked at him.

"Oh?" he said mildly. "Because of me?" He leaned back slightly. "Enlighten me, Maeron. Because last I checked, I didn’t try to kill anyone."

A murmur rippled through the table.

Trafalgar’s gaze swept across his siblings.

"Oh, don’t look so surprised," he continued. "You all know exactly what she did." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Or should I remind you how your precious mother tried to curse me?"

Silence.

"And since we’re being honest," Trafalgar went on, voice still even, "Rivena tried too. Right after my core awakened." His eyes flicked to her. "I remember everything. I have a very good memory."

Trafalgar turned last to Elira.

"And you," he said. "You’re laughing far too much." A pause. "I heard about your fiancé." He smiled faintly. "Fat. Repulsive. A noble who hasn’t left his bed in years. A complete good-for-nothing."

The smile sharpened.

"At least," Trafalgar finished, "I hope he keeps you warm in winter."

That was when the room snapped.

"Enough."

Valttair’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.

Every sound died instantly.

He stood at the head of the chamber, gaze sweeping across the table with absolute authority.

"Silence," Valttair said coldly. "We will now begin the meeting regarding the war between the Sylvanel and the Thal’zar."

Someone dared to ask, voice hesitant, "My lord... where is Lady Seraphine?"

Valttair didn’t hesitate.

"She is confined," he said. "She committed an act unbefitting of House Morgain." His eyes flicked briefly—once—toward Trafalgar. "She cursed an heir of this family."

No one needed further explanation.

They all understood who that heir was.

Valttair let the silence sit for a heartbeat longer.

"Now that your curiosity is satisfied," he said, "we begin."

Valttair’s gaze swept the hall once more before he spoke again.

"This house," he said, voice carrying without effort, "has waited for months." A pause.

"Not out of hesitation. Not out of weakness. But because timing decides wars long before swords ever clash."

Silence reigned.

"Now," Valttair continued, "House Morgain is no longer restrained. We are entering the war." His eyes sharpened. "And when we do, it will not be as spectators, nor as auxiliaries."

A low murmur stirred through the chamber.

"For generations," Valttair said, "the balance between the Eight Great Families has been maintained by restraint. By rules. By patience." His mouth curved slightly. "That balance is ending."

He straightened.

"The Thal’zar have crossed a line that cannot be ignored. They have captured a Void Creature." A beat. "And worse—they are experimenting on it. According to our report, they are attempting to grant it intelligence."

The reaction was immediate. Chairs shifted. Breath caught. Several expressions hardened outright.

"You all know this," Valttair said calmly. "The Eight Great Families have always sworn to destroy such abominations on sight. Void Creatures are not enemies of one house or one race. They are enemies of the world. And as we Morgans well know, we have suffered great losses because of them."

Trafalgar listened in silence.

’What have the Morgain suffered because of Void Creatures?’ he wondered. ’I don’t know. Not really. I’ll find out.’

Valttair’s voice did not soften.

"More than anyone," he continued, "House Morgain understands what it means to pay the price for allowing such things to exist." His gaze flicked across the heirs, the branches, the assembled bloodlines. "That is why this war is not only for our rise—but for necessity."

He turned slightly, hands resting on the table’s edge. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"I will soon meet with the Matriarch of House Sylvanel," Valttair said. "Together, we will decide how to proceed." His tone hardened. "But understand this—when we move, there will be no hesitation."

A pause.

"Icarus," Valttair said. "Kaedor. And the Void Creature itself." His eyes narrowed. "All three must fall."

The weight of it settled like frost.

"This will not be a small war," Valttair went on. "Nor a quiet one. It will be remembered." He lifted his chin. "Many of you will remain behind to protect the house and its territories. You will do so without failure."

His gaze sharpened once more.

"For now," Valttair finished, "if you have questions—ask them."

The moment broke.

Voices rose, measured but eager. Questions about deployment, about borders, about supply routes and coordination with Sylvanel forces. About what roles each branch would play, what risks were anticipated, what protections were in place. Valttair answered each without rush, cutting through uncertainty with the confidence of someone who had already mapped the outcome in his mind.

At last, he lifted a hand.

"That will be enough," he said. "You have all traveled far." His tone shifted—not softer, but satisfied. "Eat. Drink. Tonight, we celebrate a victory for House Morgain."

Servants moved immediately. Plates were filled. Glasses raised. Conversation returned, louder now, charged with ambition and expectation.

Trafalgar remained seated, watching it all.

’He’s certain,’ he thought. ’Certain this will end well for us.’ A pause. ’I suppose that’s only natural. If you’re someone great... you think in great terms.’

As the hall settled into noise and motion, Valttair stepped away from the head of the chamber.

He stopped beside Trafalgar.

"You wanted to speak with me," Valttair said quietly.

Trafalgar looked up.

"Come," Valttair added, already turning. "I’ll tell you the truth."