Trafalgar woke with a groan, rolling over in the bed of his academy room. His head was pounding, every throb reminding him of the little "celebration" from the night before. He covered his eyes with one arm, muttering under his breath.
'Fucking hell… my head feels like it's being hammered from the inside. Not even during my graduation or my eighteenth birthday did I feel this wrecked. What kind of poison did they put in that beer?'
He pushed himself upright, swaying slightly before forcing his legs to the floor. The room was faintly lit by the morning glow. The quietness contrasted sharply with the chaos of last night, when Marella had insisted on one final toast. Trafalgar couldn't even recall how he had made it back to his dorm—only fragments of laughter, clinking mugs, and Garrika joking about carrying him on her back if he collapsed.
