Vincent walked ahead with short steps, humming softly as snowflakes clung to his cardigan. Trafalgar followed behind him, matching the old man's slower pace without complaint. Vincent was elderly, and forcing him to rush would have felt… wrong. Trafalgar adjusted naturally, letting his stride ease into something gentler.

He glanced around the streets of Euclid as they made their way through the district.

'I'm noticing so many changes everywhere… new buildings, cleaner streets. It feels good seeing real progress.'

Vincent occasionally turned to ask Trafalgar a small question—harmless things, nothing deep. The old man excelled at small talk. Trafalgar… not so much. Still, he nodded and offered short replies where needed.

At last, Vincent lifted a hand.

"We've arrived, Trafalgar. This is the library."

Trafalgar looked up.

"Hmm. It's bigger than the last one."

Vincent puffed his chest proudly.

"Indeed! Much bigger. We needed room for classrooms, after all. Arthur approved the expansion without hesitation. I'm very grateful to him."

"Don't mention it," Trafalgar replied. "You helped me a lot back then—with all my questions."

Vincent only smiled at that, as if those words alone made his week.

They stepped inside.

Warm air brushed Trafalgar's face, carrying the scent of old paper and polished wood. Shelves filled the room—rows and rows of books: history volumes, children's tales, regional folklore, even novels written by authors native to this world.

Trafalgar blinked.

'There are authors here too… of course there are. I just never thought about it.

What do they even write? Fantasy? Drama? Something else?'

Vincent tapped Trafalgar's arm and pointed toward a hallway at the back.

"The classroom is there. Lessons start in five minutes. Come."

Trafalgar followed.

At the end of the corridor, a small crowd of children waited outside the classroom door—little uniforms, little boots, little bags. Humans made up most of them, but Trafalgar also spotted several elves and a handful of young vampires.

'Because of my agreement with the vampiress, more vampires probably moved here… good. I'm not racist, so it shouldn't cause problems. And thankfully they're not from Sylvanel or Nocthar—they're independent. That saves me racial headaches… I hope.'

The children spotted Vincent at once.

"Good morning, Professor Vincent!"

they chimed in unison.

But several pairs of eyes drifted past him—upward—toward Trafalgar.

Their gazes climbed his height, his dark hair tied neatly in a small ponytail, his pale skin, his deep navy eyes. They stared as if seeing a mythical creature.

One child finally asked:

"Who are you, sir?"

Trafalgar suppressed a sigh.

'Sir? I'm only sixteen in this world…'

"I'm Trafalgar du Morgain."

Silence.

Then—

Gasps.

Whispers.

Eyes sparkling as if someone had dumped candy across the floor.

"A Morgain—did you hear that, Kyle?!"

"Yes! I heard it, Alicia!"

"I never thought I'd see one so close…"

"He's so young! He looks almost our age!"

Trafalgar couldn't help it—he found their reactions amusing.

And Vincent, standing proudly beside him, gently unlocked the classroom door.

"Alright, children," he said, "don't bother our guest too much. Behave, so he'll want to visit again. Inside you go."

The children obeyed, though many continued sneaking glances at Trafalgar—one so distracted he walked straight into the doorframe, prompting laughter from the others.

Trafalgar chuckled quietly.

This… was a nice change of pace.

The classroom was small but warm, lit by soft lanterns and lined with shelves of children's books. Cushions were scattered neatly across the floor, each one claimed by a tiny coat, bag, or the eager body of a child already seating themselves. The moment Trafalgar stepped inside, dozens of small faces peeked up at him—curious, cautious, and starstruck.

He lingered near the doorway, unsure whether to sit or stand.

Vincent noticed immediately.

"Take a seat with the others," the old man said with a gentle smile. "You're among friends here."

A space had been left for him right in the middle—surrounded by children, of course. Great.

Trafalgar sighed inwardly.

'Well… they're kids. No danger.'

He stepped forward, and the children parted just enough to give him room. He lowered himself onto the cushion, feeling several eyes drilling holes into him.

Humans, elves, vampires—small versions of every race in Euclid. The variety was surprising, but Trafalgar had already guessed why.

Vincent clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention.

"Alright, children. Since we have a special guest today, let's change our lesson a bit."

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked at Trafalgar. "You all know I'm a lover of history… and history is written every single day."

The children nodded enthusiastically.

Vincent continued:

"So why don't we let Lord Trafalgar tell us a recent story of his?"

Trafalgar froze.

A story?

For children?

'What do I even tell them? Assassination attempts? Fighting Void Creatures? That I'm a Primordial?'

The children, however, were already leaning forward with shining eyes.

Waiting.

Expecting.

Demanding something interesting.

Trafalgar swallowed.

'…Fine. Something harmless. Something that happened without trauma included.'

He cleared his throat.

"Alright… I'll tell you about the time I got trapped in a mine and fought a giant spider."

Gasps erupted instantly.

"A giant spider?!"

"How big?!"

"Were you scared?!"

Trafalgar lifted a hand for silence.

"One at a time. And… yes, it really happened."

He told them a simplified version of the story—how he had been stuck underground, how the monstrous spider attacked, how he dodged webs and shattered stone, and finally how he defeated it.

He, of course, left out the part where he immediately had to kill someone who tried to betray him afterward.

Not exactly kid-friendly.

When he finished, the room burst with excitement. Cheers, claps, sparkles in their eyes. One little elf even pretended to shoot a spider with imaginary magic.

The children were still buzzing with excitement, imitating spider legs with their arms, reenacting Trafalgar's "epic" victory with dramatic flourishes. A few even tried to mimic his serious expression, which only made the others laugh harder.

Vincent clapped twice, smiling warmly.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Your parents will be here soon."

As if summoned by his words, faint footsteps and murmurs began to gather outside the classroom door. Trafalgar straightened involuntarily; old habits died hard. He didn't expect danger—not here—but instincts sharpened by a year of survival never fully relaxed.

Vincent opened the door, and a stream of adults entered the hallway—humans wrapped in winter coats, elegant elves with thin scarves, and pale vampires whose crimson eyes softened when looking at their children.

The moment they saw Trafalgar, their steps faltered.

Gasps.

Whispers.

Recognition spreading like a ripple through the group.

The children ran to them excitedly:

"Mom! Dad! Lord Trafalgar told us a story!"

"A real adventure one!"

"There was a giant spider!"

But the parents weren't focused on the spider.

Their eyes were fixed on the young man standing behind Vincent.

Trafalgar du Morgain.

One of the heirs of a Great Family.

The Lord placed in charge of Euclid.

Seeing him this close—without guards, without distance—was something none of them expected.

Slowly, one by one, they bowed.

"Lord Trafalgar du Morgain… it is an honor."

Trafalgar offered a small nod.

Several parents exchanged looks, and then—as if rehearsed—they spoke together in a single, grateful voice:

"Thank you, Lord Trafalgar. For everything."

Trafalgar blinked, unsure.

'Everything?'

He didn't understand at first. But then he remembered:

The lowered taxes.

The funding for reconstruction.

The new buildings.

The library.

The quiet stability Euclid had gained in such a short time.

Of course they were grateful.

He cleared his throat.

"It's thanks to all of you," he said, voice steady. "Without your work, Euclid wouldn't stand where it is now."

A hush fell—people weren't used to Morgains speaking like that.

Then a human father stepped forward.

"We… we joined your cavalry order, milord," he said. "We want to protect Euclid. To fight by your side, especially with the war—"

Trafalgar's expression turned cold, sharp.

"We are not at war."

The parents immediately fell silent, startled.

"My apologies, Lord Trafalgar…"

He shook his head faintly.

"War destroys lives. It's best to stay out of it… but staying alert is important."

A wave of relieved nods followed.

The tension eased.

Children tugged at parents' hands, dragging them toward home with chatter about spider battles and heroic Morgains.

One by one, families began to leave the library.

The last families drifted out of the library, their children waving energetically before disappearing down the snowy street. The warm chatter faded into the cold air, leaving Trafalgar in a rare moment of quiet.

Or almost quiet.

A familiar voice cut through the distance:

"Lord Trafalgar! You're here!"

Trafalgar turned.

Arthur strode toward him from the street, his boots crunching in the snow. Broad-shouldered, short blond hair already graying at the sides, and sharp brown eyes that carried the calm confidence of a seasoned warrior—Arthur looked every bit the man Trafalgar trusted to run Euclid in his absence.

Trafalgar crossed his arms lightly.

"Arthur. You took your time."

Arthur halted in front of him and bowed his head.

"My apologies. I didn't know you would visit today, young master Trafalgar."

Vincent chuckled softly behind them, then excused himself with a polite bow before returning inside. Trafalgar acknowledged him with a brief glance—one that said thank you without words.

Once Vincent was gone, Trafalgar motioned with a tilt of his head.

"Let's talk somewhere else."

Arthur nodded immediately, falling into step beside him as they walked away from the library and down one of Euclid's broader streets. Snow swirled gently as merchants closed morning stalls and workers shoveled pathways. The city felt alive, far more than when Trafalgar first arrived.

After a moment, Trafalgar spoke.

"Alright. Let's skip the pleasantries. How has Euclid been?"

Arthur inhaled, the kind of steady breath someone takes before delivering a full report.

"Busy. Growing. Thriving," he said. "Population is now over twenty thousand. People keep moving here—drawn by the lowered taxes, the reconstruction, the stability you've given them. Even with the climate… Euclid has become attractive."

Trafalgar absorbed the words quietly.

Arthur continued:

"As for the military order… we began with three hundred soldiers."

A brief pause.

Arthur's lips tugged into a rare, proud smile.

"We're now past one thousand."

Trafalgar stopped walking for half a second.

"…One thousand?"

Arthur nodded.

"Yes, young master. Over seven hundred volunteers joined during the last months. Many feel indebted to you. Others admire you. And some simply want to protect Euclid because they finally believe this city has a future worth fighting for."

Trafalgar resumed walking, gaze drifting toward the skyline—new rooftops, repaired walls, distant construction cranes powered by mana.

Euclid was no longer a frozen, forgotten outpost.

It was becoming a city.

Arthur continued walking beside Trafalgar as the city unfolded around them—snow-dusted rooftops, distant chimneys releasing thin streams of smoke, workers hauling crates, children laughing as they tossed handfuls of snow at each other. Euclid felt alive. Strong.

For a moment, Trafalgar let that sight settle in his chest.

'A thousand soldiers… twenty thousand citizens… Euclid isn't small anymore. This place is becoming something real.'

He let out a quiet breath.

"You're doing well, Arthur," Trafalgar said, his tone steady, almost solemn. "Keep it up. We're in the middle of wartime. Even if it doesn't reach Euclid yet…"

He paused.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"…I have a bad feeling."

Arthur did not flinch. If anything, he seemed ready for those words.

"You don't need to worry, young master," he replied. "I've been training the recruits every week. And we have several unusual classes among them. A few talent B individuals as well."

Trafalgar raised an eyebrow.

Talent B was rare among commoners.

To have multiple in one city… that was big.

"Good," Trafalgar said with a faint nod. "That will make a difference."

They walked through the mansion gates, the guards opening them with respectful bows. Snow crunched under their boots as they crossed the courtyard toward the entrance.

Trafalgar spoke again:

"Tomorrow they'll come pick me up. I'm heading to the castle. If something serious happens, I'll send word immediately."

Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Understood."

Trafalgar stopped at the foot of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur.

A small, rare smirk pulled at his lips.

"For now… let's go to the training hall. I feel like moving a bit."

Arthur blinked, then let out a low, amused breath.

"A sparring match, young master?"

"Exactly."

Arthur's expression sharpened into a confident grin—the look of a veteran who hadn't felt this excited in months.

"Then allow me to warm up. I wouldn't want to embarrass myself in front of my lord."

Trafalgar chuckled softly.

"Don't worry. I'll go easy on you."

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