SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 840: Three Powers

The room had gone very quiet with Arden and Marella out of it. There were two people left in the whole building, and neither of them was in any hurry to be the first one talking. Trafalgar waited to see whether Lyren would open, and Lyren sat there taking in the room, the doors, the windows, and the man across from him, in that order. Whatever this was, it was going to be delicate, and both of them had worked that out before either sat down.

"Well." Lyren rested his hands on his knees. "As you'll know, the situation in my family is delicate at the moment. Quite delicate."

"Your mother died of natural causes," Trafalgar said. "Isn't that right?"

Lyren looked at him for a long moment. "Oh, come on." There was no heat in it. If anything, he sounded tired. "You're a Morgain of a Great Family. You haven't believed a word of that, and we both know it. It's a story we built so the rest of the world would go about its business. You'll have your own information, or at the very least your own conclusion." He opened one hand. "So say it plainly. I won't take offence."

"Fine." Trafalgar didn't dress it up either. "Your mother was murdered, and it was one of your own who did it."

"Yes." Lyren's jaw tightened. "That is exactly what happened."

'So the rumour was right.' Trafalgar kept his face level. 'And the interesting part isn't the murder. It's that two years on, inside their own house, nobody can prove who did it.'

"Then start at the beginning," he said. "How much do you actually know?"

"Almost nothing, and that's the whole problem. We know it was done, and we know it came from inside. We don't know by whose hand, and until somebody puts a name to it, nothing in my family can move." Lyren tipped his head. "If we knew, this would have been over long ago. Whoever it was would be finished and the succession decided the same week. Instead we've had two years of everyone circling each other."

Trafalgar turned that over. "How was it done?" he asked. "Your mother sat among the eight strongest people alive. You don't put someone like that down with a knife in the dark."

"No, you don't." Something crossed Lyren's face. "It wasn't quick. She was ill for months before the end, it came on slowly, and every healer in Meraval called it age, because that's what it looked like. She was old, even for us." His hands closed on his knees. "She died in her bed with no marks on her. That's why the story holds. It's technically true."

'Months.' Trafalgar's mind moved before he told it to. 'Not a blade, then. Something worked into her over a long stretch until a body that should have lasted another century simply stopped. That takes access, patience, and materials.'

"Somebody had to be close to her every day for months to do that," he said instead.

"Which is why nobody in that house trusts anybody in that house."

"Fair enough." Trafalgar sat back. "So who's actually standing in the middle of it? Give me the whole board, not the polite version."

Lyren gave a small nod, as though that was the first thing all day to go the way he wanted. "There are five of us. My eldest brother, Vaelis, is the First Heir. He's the one everybody believes killed her." He said it flatly. "Tall, white hair, cold as the deep, exactly what you'd picture when someone says the words first heir. And here's what condemns him. He has never once denied it. Two years of the whole family saying it to his face, and he has not defended himself a single time."

"That's either guilt or contempt."

"That's the argument my family has been having for two years."

"And which do you think it is?"

"I think he did it." Lyren didn't hesitate. "So does Nerith. That's my sister, the second of us. She's the one I want in that position."

Trafalgar filed the order of that away. The name of the brother had come with a title. The name of the sister had come with a preference.

"Tell me about her."

"She's spent years running customs, canal traffic and grain." Lyren's tone changed, and he clearly didn't notice it changing. "She governs like an administrator rather than a queen, which is why the merchants and the lower rings listen to her and why every noble in Meraval underestimates her. She's shorter than the rest of us and four times as useful."

"And the others?"

"Corvyn's fourth. Enormous, loud, popular on the docks, and honestly not clever." Lyren let out a breath. "He's also the most dangerous of the three, because the fleet stands behind him. Then there's Ilyra. She's thirteen, and she isn't a candidate."

"She's an option," Trafalgar said.

Lyren's eyes came up, and Trafalgar went on. "If the other three deadlock, "somebody puts the child on the seat and rules through her for twenty years. Everyone in that house has already thought of it, whether they've said it out loud or not."

"Yes." Lyren's voice had gone quiet. "That's exactly right. And she doesn't leave the deep chambers now, because I've made certain she doesn't."

'So he's already protecting her.' Trafalgar adjusted his read of the man by a notch. 'That's not the behaviour of somebody clearing his own path to a throne.'

"Then that's the family," he said. "Who's behind them? A house that size doesn't split three ways without somebody funding each piece."

"You get to the point quickly."

"We've both got somewhere to be."

Lyren almost smiled at that, and laid it out. "Three powers, and none of them can take the seat, because none of them are Myrrhvale by blood. All they can do is back an heir." He counted them off. "The Tide is the fleet and the guard. Sea people, mixed blood, risen on merit, and they're commanded by Admiral Kesh Varlan, who is a great deal more dangerous than his manners suggest. They stand behind Corvyn."

"And they can move soldiers."

"The second is the Ancients. The ritual branch, keepers of the succession rite and of the deep chambers. Ondrek leads them, he is old enough that nobody alive remembers him being anything else. They back Vaelis, and their reasoning is simple. The first is the first. Whatever anyone whispers about him is beneath their notice, because the law doesn't care about whispers."

"That's law without a conscience."

"That's the Ancients."

"And the third?"

"The Canal Houses. The money, and Maela Sorrel speaks for it." Lyren's hands opened. "They're backing nobody at all so far. They're waiting to see who wins so they can already have been on that side." He met Trafalgar's eyes. "Winning them is the whole of Nerith's road. That's the part I've been working on."

Trafalgar built the whole of it in his head. Two armed factions with candidates, and a purse in the middle holding out for the winner. He could name three houses that had come apart exactly that way.

Then he asked the question that had been waiting since the second name. "So how is it you aren't one of the powers on that board?"

"Because I want my sister to win." Lyren said it as though that closed the subject.

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the only one I'm giving you." He held Trafalgar's gaze. "I'm stronger than she is. I could compete for it and make a real fight of it, and I'd probably survive doing it. I wouldn't be a better ruler than her, and I'd know that every day I sat there." A pause. "Beyond that, I have my own reasons."

'Hmm…' Trafalgar noted the size of the gap and left it exactly where it was. 'Everybody keeps one. Push at it now and he closes up, and I lose the rest of what he came here to say.'

"Fine," he said. "Keep them."

Lyren looked mildly surprised at being let off so easily. "There's one more thing on that board," he said. "Which is the reason I sent for you rather than handling this at home." His voice cooled. "There's a Vaelion in Meraval. He's been there for months. Lucard au Vaelion, the third heir."

Trafalgar went completely still. 'A Vaelion. Sitting inside another Great Family's succession?'

He could think of a dozen ways that was a problem and no way at all that it was innocent. The agreements between the Eight existed precisely so a house tearing itself apart didn't become an open invitation, and yet a Vaelion had been standing in the middle of Meraval for months without anyone raising a word about it.

"All right." Trafalgar leaned forward, and every trace of politeness went out of his voice. "Then let's have the two questions I actually came here to ask." He held Lyren's eyes. "What is a Vaelion doing anywhere near your succession? And what exactly do you think I'm doing in it?"

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