Time passed, and the academy, with all its polished halls, noble students, tedious classes, and training grounds that never stayed empty for long, returned to its normal rhythm.
Normal, of course, was a generous word.
For Trafalgar, normal meant attending classes when they were useful, enduring them when they were not, and spending the rest of his time grinding every skill that could still be pushed higher before the world became even more unreasonable. He had almost two years left in the academy, less now that the days had begun slipping away again, and Valttair had made it clear enough that he expected him to finish properly.
So Trafalgar trained.
