"I've been better…"

Aubrelle's voice was calm, soft as always—but something in it felt muted. As if a layer of warmth had been carefully folded away and set aside.

Trafalgar noticed it immediately.

This wasn't the Senior Aubrelle he remembered so clearly. The one who was always smiling, always gentle. The kind of person who naturally drew others in—not through authority or power, but through kindness. She had been docile, warm, endlessly patient. Someone who helped without being asked.

Someone who watched over others.

His mind drifted back to his first Council.

He remembered everything clearly. The tension in the air. The weight of unfamiliar eyes. The exhaustion that followed.

He had been awake the entire time.

And Aubrelle had been there. Staying close while he gathered himself. Making sure he was alright without pressing him for words. Offering help where it was needed, space where it wasn't.

That memory lingered longer than it should have.

'I consider her a friend,' Trafalgar admitted inwardly.

And not just that.

He knew who she truly was. One of the Ten Legendary characters. A name that carried weight far beyond her gentle demeanor. Being close to someone like her meant influence, meant power—meant a strong ally.

Yet none of that mattered right now.

"What are you doing here, Aubrelle?" Trafalgar asked quietly. "In Carac, I mean."

Aubrelle turned her face slightly toward him—toward Pipin's line of sight.

"My father allowed it," she replied. "He decided it was too dangerous for me to remain on the battlefield for now."

There was no bitterness in her tone. Just acceptance.

"I'll be returning to the academy soon."

Trafalgar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"That's good," he said honestly. "I'm glad to hear that."

For a brief moment, her expression shifted.

A small gentle smile formed on her lips.

And that alone told him he'd said the right thing.

Silence settled between them, soft and unforced.

Trafalgar was the one who broke it.

"Are you… alright?" he asked, his tone measured, careful not to push.

Aubrelle didn't answer right away.

For a brief moment, she simply sat there, lips pressed lightly together. She was used to that question—had been asked it more times than she could count. Most people asked out of courtesy. Others out of curiosity. Some because they wanted to be seen caring.

But this felt different.

With Trafalgar, there was no pretense. No attempt to draw closer. No hidden intent behind the words. Just concern.

That realization stirred something warm inside her chest.

"I'm fine," Aubrelle said at last. "Thank you for asking, Trafalgar."

He studied her for a second, then nodded—but didn't stop there.

"I've heard rumors," he continued quietly. "That the battle was chaotic. That your side was ambushed… and that you didn't come out ahead."

Her expression didn't change, but the air around them seemed to tighten.

"Yes," Aubrelle admitted. Her voice remained steady. "That much is true."

Then she tilted her head slightly.

"But could we not talk about it here?" she asked gently. "At least in this place. I'd prefer we change the subject."

Trafalgar inclined his head in response.

Pipin caught the motion immediately.

And through Pipin's sight, Aubrelle did as well.

"Of course," Trafalgar said simply.

Yet even as he agreed, a thought formed quietly in the back of his mind.

'At least in this place…'

Which meant there were places where she might speak.

Somewhere more private.

Somewhere safer.

And perhaps—just perhaps—whatever she was holding back had something to do with the vision Selendra had seen.

For now, though, he let the moment pass.

Respecting the boundary was more important than crossing it.

Trafalgar shifted slightly in his seat.

"Then… what would you like to talk about?" he asked, his tone lighter than before.

Aubrelle seemed to relax at the question. The tension that had settled around her shoulders eased, if only a little.

"Hm," she murmured. "Let me think."

Her head tilted, Pipin adjusting along with her movement.

"How has the academy been since I left?" she asked. "And… the elective cooking classes. How have they been with Director Selara?"

Trafalgar let out a slow sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"If I told you everything…" he began, then shook his head. "I think she needs you. Actually—no. We do. The students, I mean."

Aubrelle smiled faintly, amused.

"She's completely out of control," Trafalgar continued. "Her alchemy experiments haven't been going well, so she's been taking it out on us. Or more accurately—on me."

He paused for effect.

"She keeps making me cook 'traditional Morgain recipes' I learned. Over and over."

A soft laugh escaped Aubrelle's lips.

"I'd like to try them again," she said. "It's been a long time since I last did."

"When we're both back at the academy," Trafalgar replied, "we can."

Her smile lingered at that.

"And you?" Aubrelle asked after a moment. "How have you been lately, Trafalgar?"

"Fine," he answered honestly. "I can't really complain."

Then, after a brief pause, he added, "By the way… did you call me over here on purpose? To sit with you, I mean."

Aubrelle nodded without hesitation.

"Yes," she admitted. "After everything that happened, I wanted to clear my head by talking to someone."

Her hand lifted slightly, brushing near Pipin's feathers.

"And Pipin saw you," she continued softly. "So I asked him to let you know."

Trafalgar nodded once, letting her words settle.

"I see," he said quietly. Then, after a short pause, he asked, "When do you plan to return to the academy?"

Aubrelle adjusted her posture slightly, her fingers resting near the handle of her cane.

"The Gates still can't be used," she explained. "So my family planned for me to take the train instead. It'll be a longer journey than usual—several stops, changing routes along the way."

"That sounds… inconvenient," Trafalgar remarked.

"It is," she admitted, her tone calm. "But it's the safest option available right now."

For a moment, he considered his words. Then—

"If that's the case," Trafalgar said, "why not return with me? On my family's ship. I was planning to leave Carac soon anyway. I've already finished what I came here to do."

Aubrelle went still.

The pause that followed wasn't long, but it was heavy.

"I'd like to accept," she said slowly, "but… the Eight Great Families aren't allowed to intervene in the war."

Trafalgar frowned slightly. "Intervene?" he repeated. "I'm not talking about that. I'd just be taking a friend back to the academy. That doesn't affect the war in any way. It's just a trip."

Her expression shifted—subtly, but unmistakably. The softness receded, replaced by something more serious.

"I know why you're in Carac, Trafalgar," Aubrelle said. "You're here to investigate what's been happening around the conflict. Just like members of the other families are."

There was no accusation in her voice. Just clarity.

"I don't blame you for it," she continued. "But you should know… you won't get any information from me."

Trafalgar didn't respond right away.

She was right.

He had hoped that, given time—given privacy—she might say something. Anything. Even fragments. Enough to connect to the vision Selendra had seen.

But he said nothing.

Inside, he adjusted his expectations instead.

'It wouldn't change anything,' he reasoned. 'I won't even pass by the castle.'

Valttair wasn't there anyway. Everything was being handled through Caelum. Reports sent, decisions made at a distance. If Aubrelle returned with him, no one would think twice about it.

Trafalgar broke the silence first.

"There's something I don't understand," he said quietly. "Your family… they're letting you leave alone after everything that happened?"

Aubrelle's fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of her cloak. She knew she shouldn't explain it. Not to anyone involved—even indirectly. That was what her family would expect of her.

And yet—

'I need to talk to someone,' she admitted inwardly. 'And it can't be them.'

Her head tilted just enough for Pipin to come into view. The pale bird chirped softly, a short, affirming sound.

Aubrelle exhaled.

'Alright,' she decided. 'Just a little. No details.'

"Let's go," she said instead. "If you don't mind… I'd rather walk."

Trafalgar nodded at once.

He stood, reached into his coat, and placed a silver coin on the table—more than enough for both meals. Aubrelle rose as well, her cane materializing in her hand with a soft shimmer of mana. Pipin settled comfortably on her shoulder as they made their way toward the door.

Outside, the air felt cooler.

They walked side by side, their steps unhurried.

"You changed your mind," Trafalgar observed after a moment. "About telling me something."

Aubrelle didn't look at him—or rather, didn't turn toward his voice directly. She didn't need to.

"I did," she said softly. "Because… I don't know anyone in Carac. And right now, you're the only person I can talk to."

There was no hesitation in her words. Just honesty.

Trafalgar waited.

"My family—the Rosenthals—decided to remove me from the war," Aubrelle continued. "Not because I failed. But because the enemy saw what I could do."

She paused, her grip on the cane tightening.

"They'll focus on me now. If I stay, others will be put at risk. So they chose to step me aside."

Trafalgar said nothing, but the rumors he'd heard surfaced unbidden. The battlefield reports. The whispers.

The blind summoner who held the line.

The Rosenthal heir who helped hundreds escape the ambush.

One of the strongest summoner families among humans—and she had stood at its center.

"I see," he said at last.

They walked a few more steps before Aubrelle spoke again.

"…In that case," she added, her tone lighter but resolute, "I'll take your offer. The ship. Back to the academy."

Trafalgar didn't hesitate.

"Of course," he replied. "We'll be leaving tomorrow."

The words carried more weight than they seemed.

Somewhere—unseen, unheard—Caelum listened. And even as Trafalgar spoke, orders were already being relayed. Alfred would prepare the ship.

Trafalgar's mission in Carac was over.

And a lot had happened along the way.

He had fought a Leviathan. He had witnessed what might become the future. A possible outcome—one he couldn't simply ignore.

Now came the real task. Understanding that future. Understanding why it existed. And what choices led the world there.

But as the city lights stretched ahead of them and the silence settled once more, one truth remained unmistakable.

The war between the families had only just begun.

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