Chapter 484: A Blade Well Earned

A little later, Aubrelle had already left Euclid.

By then, Trafalgar had finished bathing and changed into fresh clothes. The warmth from the water was gone now, replaced by the quieter weight of everything waiting for him beyond the mansion. For the first time since waking, he was alone.

He sat in one of the private dining rooms with a plate in front of him, cutting through a thick piece of steak while a glass of good wine rested near his hand. He had woken up hungry, which was not surprising after how the night had gone. If anything, it would have been stranger if he had not.

For a short while, the room stayed silent apart from the faint sound of cutlery against the plate.

Euclid was calm again.

The wedding was over. The guests had come and gone. Aubrelle had already left ahead of him. The mansion had returned to its usual order, though the quiet today felt different from the silence it had carried before. It was his again. His house. His territory. His people.

And yet he would not stay in it for long.

Tomorrow he would return to the academy. Tonight there would be the gathering in Velkaris. Before that, he still had a meeting waiting for him, one that mattered more than the rest.

Trafalgar took another bite, chewed in silence, then reached for the wine and drank from it.

’There really is no rest.’

Not that he minded much. If he stayed still for too long, people started making decisions around him.

After another moment, he looked toward one of the maids standing at a respectful distance near the door.

"Go call Arthur."

"At once, young master."

She lowered her head and left without wasting a second.

Trafalgar returned his attention to the food after that. He cut another piece of steak, ate, then leaned back slightly in the chair as his thoughts moved ahead of him. Arthur first. Euclid after and after that...

His eyes lowered briefly to the wine in his glass.

Vivienne.

The Primordial.

Even now, with the meeting so close, it still felt strange to think that after all this time he was finally about to stand in front of someone from his bloodline who was neither himself nor Rhosyn. That alone was enough to push everything else slightly aside.

Still, Euclid came first.

He was not going to leave without making sure everything here stayed in order.

Trafalgar raised the glass again and took another drink. The steak was good. The wine was better than most of what had been served yesterday. The room was warm. The morning had started quietly.

It would not stay that way for long.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Trafalgar finished the piece he was chewing, set the utensils down, and wiped his mouth with the napkin before speaking.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Arthur stepped inside a moment later.

He carried himself with the same grounded steadiness as always, broad through the frame, his presence solid without needing to push itself forward. His hair was cut short, blond touched by grey near the temples, and his brown eyes still had that alertness of a man who had spent most of his life on battlefields instead of in halls like this one.

He stopped a few steps in and inclined his head.

"You wanted to see me, young master?"

Trafalgar looked at him for a second, then set the napkin aside. "I’ve already told you that when we’re alone, you can call me by my name."

Arthur let out the faintest breath through his nose, something between habit and resignation. "Then... you wanted to see me, Trafalgar?"

"Yes." Trafalgar leaned back slightly in the chair. "Tomorrow I finally return to the academy. Which means you’ll be staying here again, running Euclid, overseeing the troops, and handling their training on top of everything else." His gaze stayed on Arthur. "At this point, I almost feel like I’m exploiting you."

Arthur’s expression shifted at once. "Please don’t say that." His answer came with quiet firmness. "If anything, I’m the one who should be grateful. You placed this much trust in me despite where I came from. I spent some time buried in your father’s lower squadrons. Men like me don’t usually get handed responsibility like this."

Trafalgar took another sip of wine before answering. "You don’t need to flatter me either, Arthur."

"I’m not."

"No?" Trafalgar’s mouth moved faintly. "Then you’re more sincere than most people from my house."

Arthur accepted that without flinching. "I am sincere."

That made Trafalgar look at him a little longer before nodding once. "Fine. Then I’ll be sincere too. I appreciate having you here. More than once you’ve made things easier for me."

Arthur lowered his head slightly, though he said nothing.

"As usual, we’ll keep meeting once a month," Trafalgar continued. "You’ll tell me how things are going here, what needs attention, what doesn’t, and if anything changes in Euclid, I want to know before it becomes a problem."

"Understood."

Trafalgar set the glass down. "Good. Then that part is settled." He paused briefly, and his tone shifted. "Now for the real reason I called you."

Arthur’s eyes moved to him fully.

Trafalgar extended one hand over the table.

A sword materialized into existence above his palm.

The blade was clean and elegant, its surface carrying the pale sheen of fine alloy, with runes worked into it in narrow lines that caught the light when the weapon appeared. It was not extravagant, but anyone with eyes could tell at once that it was expensive. More than that, it carried the pressure of quality. The kind of weapon a man remembered the moment he held it.

Arthur’s gaze fixed on it immediately.

"...That’s a fine sword."

"It is," Trafalgar said. "Cost me a decent amount of gold too."

Arthur looked from the blade to Trafalgar again, probably expecting him to continue into some other point.

Instead, Trafalgar said, "I don’t have much use for it. Maledicta suits me better. So it’s yours."

For the first time since entering the room, Arthur looked genuinely caught off guard.

He stared at the sword, then back at Trafalgar, as if making sure he had heard properly. "Mine?"

"Yes."

Arthur did not move yet. "Are you serious?"

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed a fraction. "Do I look like I’m joking?"

"No," Arthur admitted at once. Then, after a brief pause, "But this is an Epic weapon."

"I know what rank it is."

Arthur remained silent.

That reaction did not surprise Trafalgar. A sword like this was not a casual gift. A man like Arthur could have obtained one eventually if he saved enough, if circumstances lined up properly, if luck did not fail him first. But that was very different from being handed one across a table like this.

Trafalgar kept his hand where it was, Nightpiercer still resting above his palm.

"You help me more than most people around me," he said. "You’ve been loyal from the start. You keep Euclid in order when I’m away. You train the men, direct them, and I don’t have to worry every second about whether things will fall apart the moment I turn my back." His voice stayed even, but there was weight in it now. "And during the war, you handled the squad exactly as I needed you to."

Arthur listened without interrupting.

Trafalgar went on. "Under your command, we lost one man. One." He held Arthur’s gaze. "With enemies like those, with the battlefield we were thrown into, I couldn’t have asked for better. You did more than enough. Better than that, actually. You did exactly what was needed."

Arthur’s hand tightened once at his side, though his expression stayed restrained.

"So take it," Trafalgar said. "You’ve earned it."

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Then Trafalgar lowered the sword and let it rest across the table between them.

Arthur stepped forward at last. Slowly, almost carefully, he placed one hand over the weapon.

A second later, Nightpiercer vanished from sight, drawn into his inventory.

Silence followed for only a breath before Arthur lifted one hand again, and the longsword appeared in his grasp.

It suited him immediately.

Arthur looked down at it, his fingers closing more firmly around the hilt, testing the balance without swinging it. A weapon like that did not need much time to announce its worth.

After a moment, he dismissed it again and raised his eyes to Trafalgar.

"Thank you, Trafalgar." His voice was quieter now, but no less steady. "I mean that. I won’t forget this."

Trafalgar waved that aside with one hand. "Just keep doing what you’ve been doing."

Arthur gave a small nod. "I will. And I hope you’ll keep trusting me the same way you have until now."

"I will," Trafalgar said. "As long as you keep giving me reasons to."

That drew the faintest trace of a smile from Arthur.

"Fair enough."

Trafalgar reached for the wine again. "Then that’s all."

Arthur straightened. "Understood." He inclined his head once more. "Thank you, young master." He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

For a second, he stayed where he was, glass still in hand, looking toward the door with a faintly dry look in his eyes.

’He called me young master again.’

A small breath left him through the nose.

’I suppose it’s time to leave. There really is no rest for the great Trafalgar du Morgain.’ His gaze shifted briefly toward the table. ’Well, time to move and stop complaining so much.’

With that, he sat back down and finished eating in peace. The steak did not last long after that, and neither did the rest of the wine. Once he was done, he left the plates there for the maids to collect later and rose from the chair without wasting any more time.

A little later, Trafalgar stepped out of the mansion and left Euclid behind once more.

The air outside was cold again, far cleaner and harsher than the warmth he had just left. The estate remained at his back, quiet now, the wedding already beginning to feel like something that had passed. Arthur was here. Euclid would stay in order. That was enough.

So Trafalgar kept walking.

The Gate leading to Velkaris was ahead, and with each step his thoughts drifted further from the mansion, further from the wedding, further from everything that had occupied the last few days.

Because this was what he had really been waiting for.

After all this time, he was finally going to meet someone else from his bloodline.

Someone other than Rhosyn.

Someone tied directly to the mystery he had been chasing for so long.

As the Gate came into view, Trafalgar’s eyes settled on it in silence.

The anticipation had been building for days now, and the closer he got, the more obvious the weight of it became. Vivienne would be there, yes. But she was not the reason his pulse had grown heavier.

The real reason was the one waiting behind her.

A Primordial.

And in a few moments, Trafalgar would finally stand before him.