SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 497: Night Walk

Velkaris remained lively as Aubrelle and Rhosyn reentered the street.

Lamps threw unwavering glows across the pavement, carriages rolled by occasionally, and well-dressed individuals wandered the northern district at an unhurried gait. Aubrelle advanced using her cane in one grip, Pipin looping around her shoulder intermittently, her stride so relaxed it resembled a serene promenade more than a journey back home.

Rhosyn kept pace beside her in silence.

A short time later, Aubrelle broke the quiet. "No need to match my speed."

Rhosyn shot her a look. "I know. But I want to speak with you."

Aubrelle tilted her head her way a bit. "On what topic?"

Rhosyn waited through several strides before replying. "You took all that in remarkably fast."

Aubrelle fell silent briefly.

"Truth be told, I never imagined encountering something like this," she admitted finally. "I figured the Primordials were relics of history rather than living reality. Tales from books, classes, and ancient records, but not something I’d ever encounter personally." Her fingers pressed firmer on the cane. "I’ve read up on your kind. The Age of Formation, battles versus the Void Creatures, the supreme bloodline that forged peace amid a crumbling world."

This shifted Rhosyn’s gaze toward her with fresh regard.

"You grasp more than the average person," she remarked. "Most folks have forgotten those details by now."

Aubrelle’s mouth hinted at a smile. "I excel at the academy."

Then that subtle grin eased further.

"And if I wish to remain at Trafalgar’s side, I must embrace his true nature and back him fully. He chose to stand with me first." Her tone dipped a touch, yet held firm. "He never condemned me. He aided me. He brought me comfort when scarcely anyone else did." She faced ahead once more. "So no, I don’t regret loving him. If anything, I’m thankful he confided such a vital secret in me."

Rhosyn held her tongue initially.

The response carried deeper significance than anticipated.

At last, when she replied, her voice softened. "You’re truly committed to him."

Aubrelle nodded lightly. "Indeed."

Rhosyn gazed forward a moment, then added, "I appreciate that."

Aubrelle angled her head toward her slightly.

"You haven’t heard every secret yet," Rhosyn pressed on, "but even so, words like yours carry weight." Her pitch dropped lower. "Our bloodline nearly vanished. We’re shadows of our former glory. Against millions from other races, just hundreds of us linger."

Aubrelle’s grip on the cane firmed a fraction.

Rhosyn continued without pause.

"Trafalgar avoided scaring you tonight," she explained, "but know this too. Worst scenario, within a decade, an event rivaling the Age of Formation might return."

Aubrelle halted abruptly.

Pipin mirrored her tension, wings twitching, his light plumage fluffing as though the bird sensed the gravity.

For an instant, Velkaris’s clamor faded into distance.

"That’s..." Aubrelle inhaled deeply, exhaling deliberately. "That’s too grave to conceal. Shouldn’t everyone learn of it? The Eight Great Families especially. If doom approaches, preparations must begin now."

Rhosyn’s face grew stern. "In theory, yes. In practice, no." She met Aubrelle’s eyes directly. "Word of Trafalgar’s Primordial bloodline, or mine, would spark panic, not strategy. Fear. Distrust. Avarice. Every house, faction, bloodline recalling our past power would mobilize instantly."

Aubrelle listened without interrupting.

Rhosyn persisted. "And that might ignite a conflict fiercer than the recent one."

Aubrelle dropped her gaze briefly, then nodded sharply. "Understood." Her voice regained poise. "The prior war never reached its full fury. House Thal’zar held back prime forces from the core lands to spare the lineage greater ruin. Ultimately, the heaviest toll was the patriarch’s demise."

This insight sharpened Rhosyn’s glance anew.

"You comprehend politics better than I thought."

Aubrelle’s lips twitched faintly, the expression cooler now. "That’s what comes from a lineage that chased proximity to the Eight Great Families across generations, never fully joining them."

Soon, the station loomed ahead, its illumination tracing a serene golden band through the dark.

They arrived at the platform shortly after.

Even late, the station thrummed. Servants hauled bags, guards patrolled premium coaches, and first-class cars gleamed under brighter lamps and shining brass up ahead. Aubrelle paused there, Pipin settled by her shoulder, one palm lightly atop the cane.

Rhosyn regarded her briefly before voicing.

"Protect him."

Aubrelle turned her head a touch. "I shall."

Rhosyn’s stare lingered. "I’m serious. The lad hasn’t grasped the burdens awaiting him."

This softened Aubrelle’s features.

"I understand," she assured. "Rest easy. We’ll support him right."

The reply satisfied Rhosyn enough for a curt nod and silence.

Soon, the attendant swung open the lead carriage for Aubrelle. She boarded leisurely, the sort of compartment for the wealthy, powerful, or both. Pipin trailed in, and ere the door sealed, Aubrelle offered Rhosyn a final gentle smile.

Then the door clicked shut.

Rhosyn lingered seconds longer, observing the train engulf the final sight of white feathers and shadowed cloth. Afterward, she pivoted and ventured back into Velkaris solo.

The metropolis stayed unchanged. Figures in lavish attire still traversed avenues, nocturnal chatter echoed beneath lanterns, and the north quarter retained its glossy nonchalance it feigned eternal. Rhosyn glided through effortlessly, weaving past crowds while tuning out the din.

When she regained Mayla’s flat, night had hushed further.

The interior struck a stark difference.

Trafalgar sat centered in the space, locks tumbling unbound past his shoulders, darker than preferred. Mayla positioned behind, scissors clutched, deftly bunching his tresses with habitual ease.