SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 929 - The First Heir

- Maeron's POV -

The wyvern came down through the falling snow with a heavy beat of black wings.

It was a large beast even by Morgain standards, covered in dark scales that reflected little light, with bright cyan eyes and a thick leather saddle secured across its back. Its claws struck the landing platform, scraping against stone before it finally lowered its body.

Maeron du Morgain dismounted without waiting for assistance.

The last several weeks had kept him away from the castle more than he would have preferred. Valttair had given him work across the central territories, and completing it had taken longer than expected.

Now, however, nearly everyone important was returning.

Soldiers moved across the landing platforms in disciplined groups while servants took charge of luggage, equipment and arriving mounts. Several other wyverns were already being led toward the sheltered enclosures built farther into the mountain.

Maeron passed through the activity without slowing.

He was tall, broad through the shoulders and carried himself with the confidence expected from the First Heir of House Morgain. His pale hair had been combed back neatly despite the flight, and his expression remained cold as soldiers and servants lowered their heads when he passed.

Every one of them did.

"Lord Maeron du Morgain."

Maeron stopped.

Moses had returned to the platform from one of the inner passages. The captain of the First Morgain Squadron approached without any of the caution most people showed around the heirs.

He never had much use for it.

"How did the mission Lord Valttair gave you go?"

Maeron looked at him for a moment before answering.

"I completed everything Father asked of me. The final reports will reach him before the end of the day, so there should be nothing left requiring my presence there."

Moses gave a slow nod. "I'm glad to hear it went well."

Maeron's expression remained unchanged.

"Do you need something from me, Moses, or did you come over here simply because you felt like interrupting me?"

The captain did not appear bothered.

"Am I interrupting you already? That wasn't my intention. You've only just arrived, so I assumed I had a few minutes before everyone inside started demanding your attention."

There was enough sarcasm in the answer for Maeron to notice it, though Moses did not push further.

Most people would have chosen their words more carefully.

Moses was not most people.

"Since you have decided to make yourself useful," Maeron said, "you can tell me where my father is."

Moses considered him for a moment.

"Can I tell you? I believe I can manage that much. The Patriarch is currently meeting with your younger brother."

Maeron's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Which one?"

Moses's expression shifted just enough to make the answer obvious before he spoke.

"The one you're always so pleased to hear about."

Trafalgar.

There was no need for Moses to say the name.

Maeron knew exactly which brother he meant.

He had little affection for any of his siblings. That had never bothered him. House Morgain was not built around affection, and Maeron had learned early that blood meant very little when everyone carrying it wanted the same inheritance.

Still, Trafalgar had become a different kind of problem.

"What are they discussing in private?"

Moses folded his arms.

"I wouldn't know. If you're curious, you could always go greet your father and brother yourself. Perhaps they'll invite you into the conversation."

A small, knowing smile crossed the captain's face before he stepped away.

"I have soldiers to organize. Welcome back, Lord Maeron."

Moses left without waiting for another response.

Within moments he was already speaking to several soldiers near the wyvern enclosures, ordering one group toward the eastern hangars and directing another to clear space for the mounts still expected that afternoon.

Maeron did not look back at him.

He continued toward the castle, though the encounter had irritated him more than he allowed to show.

Moses had always been difficult.

Not because he lacked discipline, but because rank alone did very little to impress him. The captain respected strength, achievement and people he personally considered worthy of following.

Nobody inside the family truly knew which heir Moses favored.

Perhaps Moses himself had not decided.

That uncertainty made him valuable.

Maeron wanted the captain on his side when the time came.

The First Morgain Squadron was not another collection of soldiers that could be replaced with recruits and coin. It was the strongest military formation House Morgain possessed, built from veterans who had survived battles that would destroy ordinary units.

With Moses at its head, the entire Squadron represented a force few individuals could face directly.

Before Valttair's latest advancement, Maeron had considered the full First Squadron one of the few forces inside Morgain territory capable of threatening even the Patriarch himself.

Things were different now.

His father had grown stronger.

In a direct confrontation, Maeron suspected Valttair would win even against Moses and the entire First Squadron.

But winning was not the same as walking away untouched.

Valttair would pay heavily for it.

That alone made Moses a piece Maeron could not afford to ignore.

Unfortunately, the captain could not be bought with a title or ordered into loyalty merely because Maeron was First Heir.

Respect had to be earned from him.

Maeron entered the castle and left the landing platforms behind.

The interior was busier than usual, though people quickly moved from his path as he crossed the halls. He ignored the servants and continued toward one of the older residential sections rather than heading for his own chambers.

Someone was waiting for him.

Someone who could not leave the castle even if she wanted to.

He climbed several floors before reaching a quieter wing where the number of servants decreased sharply. The corridor ahead had been cleared, and the guards positioned nearby knew better than to ask where he was going.

Maeron stopped before a dark wooden door and opened it.

Three women were waiting inside.

His mother, Seraphine, sat near the windows in an ornate chair. Despite the cold mountain air outside, she slowly moved a folding fan in front of her face, clearly uncomfortable with the warmth produced by the enchanted stones inside the room.

Across from her, on a long sofa, sat Rivena.

Verena occupied the seat beside her daughter.

Rivena looked toward the door the moment Maeron entered. Her expression carried none of the irritation that had followed her restrictions over the last months.

Instead, she looked impatient.

"You took your time, Maeron. We expected you earlier."

Maeron closed the door behind him before walking farther into the room.

"I had something to finish before returning. It couldn't be left incomplete simply because the family decided to gather today."

His gaze passed over the three women.

"Besides, Father is occupied. He's having a private meeting with the bastard."