The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 26: Chapter 25 — Meeting

”Zephyrion Calderalth of the primary line... has returned.”

The hall was instantly plunged into a deathly silence.

Ingrid’s eyes snapped open. Around her, many others straightened in their seats, their gazes locking onto the massive doors as they swung open.

A figure stepped inside.

He stood at six feet tall, his black flowing hair neatly tied back in a single ponytail, framing a devilishly handsome face devoid of imperfections.

’He hasn’t changed.’

Despite the attention of the entire South bearing down on him, his purple eyes remained unnervingly still, his gait calm and unhurried, as though he were taking nothing more than a casual stroll.

Ingrid’s fingers curled slightly at her side.

She could never forget those eyes. The same gaze he had once looked at her with... as though she was nothing.

”The Lightning Prince...”

”He’s really alive...”

Most of the houses stared at Zephyrion with widened eyes, unable to reconcile the fact that he was truly alive.

Unbothered, he continued forward until he reached the base of the grand stairs. He raised his head toward the heads of the three great lines seated above, then gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.

Ingrid’s eyes narrowed slightly.

’He’s not kneeling.’

The heir of Calderalth should stand on equal authority with the three great lines, under normal circumstances.

But Zephyrion had been gone for over seven years. In that time, the house had changed. Power had shifted. Positions had been claimed.

His past title was, at best, uncertain.

And yet, by refusing to kneel, he was declaring to the entire South that nothing had changed, that he was still heir.

Ingrid’s gaze flickered briefly toward the other two lines.

Tenius, head of the forge line, stared at Zephyrion with a deep frown, his expression filled with disapproval.

Grand Marshal Garaxe, head of the knight line, on the other hand, watched him with clear intrigue.

’I can’t allow this.’

If she let this pass, it would be taken as silent acknowledgment. The three great lines would, in effect, be accepting his claim.

Her expression hardened.

”Zephyr—”

”THE HEAD OF HOUSE CALDERALTH HAS ARRIVED.”

”!!!”

Ingrid’s eyes widened as her head snapped toward the door. The reaction rippled across the entire hall, every gaze shifting at once.

A moment later, a man stepped inside.

He was slender, clad in a simple, rough looking black robe. His black hair was unkempt, his appearance unrefined, yet the instant he crossed the threshold, it felt as though a mountain had descended upon the hall.

Ingrid’s breath froze.

Before a single thought could form, she, along with every soul present, rose abruptly, then dropped to their knees in unison.

”We greet the Head of House!”

Step. Step.

’What is he doing here?’

As Kastor’s footsteps rang out, Ingrid felt her thoughts churn. A man who had not shown himself in seven years had suddenly appeared, on this day of all days.

Her gaze shifted toward Zephyrion.

’Because of him?’

She curled her fists as she stared at her kneeling brother.

”Leave us.”

Kastor’s voice was calm, yet it carried through the hall with undeniable weight.

A ripple of confusion passed through the houses. Several frowned slightly, as though unsure they had heard correctly.

But Kastor did not repeat himself.

He simply ascended the grand steps and took his seat upon the throne.

The pressure in the hall intensified, pressing down on every soul present.

”Now.”

The Grand Marshal rose immediately. Bowing deeply, he turned and left without hesitation.

Not long, the rest of the hall followed. They filled out in silence, and not a single voice dared to rise above a whisper.

”You too.”

Ingrid stiffened slightly.

”But fath—”

Kastor’s gaze shifted to her, and her words died instantly.

She clenched her teeth, then lowered her head.

”Yes, Head of House.”

She rose without another word and turned, leaving the hall seconds later.

...

’I can’t read him.’

Since childhood, Zephyrion had always found it easy to pick up even the faintest cues, whether facial or behavioral, and determine how a person felt, as well as the best way to control and manipulate them.

His years spent as an assassin for the Order, going on countless missions and interacting with countless people, had only refined that ability further.

However, as he stared at the imposing man seated before him, his mind returned nothing.

There was nothing to grasp. No shift in expression, no subtle change in breathing, no hidden intent beneath the surface.

Nothing.

”Stand up.”

”Yes, Father.”

Zephyrion rose to his feet, the weight pressing down on his shoulders immediately intensifying.

’He’s grown even stronger.’

Though Zephyrion himself had grown considerably over the past seven years, the pressure his father exuded far surpassed anything he remembered. It wasn’t just strength, it was presence. Absolute and suffocating.

’A member of the Ten Thrones...’

A flicker of rage stirred within him, but he suppressed it just as quickly.

He lifted his head, meeting Kastor’s cold, unyielding gaze.

”Tell me what happened.”

’Here it is.’

Zephyrion had expected this. His return was bound to raise questions about his disappearance, but the truth was something he could never allow to surface.

As the heir of Calderalth, especially in a world such as theirs, his past life as an assassin would not be tolerated. It would not be questioned. It would be judged.

And he would be executed.

However, while deceiving others would have been simple, Kastor was not like them.

A member of the Ten Thrones could not be deceived so easily.

’He’ll know the moment I lie.’

Zephyrion steadied his breathing and gave a small nod.

”After the ambush, I—”

”No. Start from the beginning.”

’The ambush...’

A faint ache spread through his chest at the memory, but he forced it down before it could surface.

”...After the banquet at the Pyre Palace, on our way back, we were suddenly attacked by a group of Pyrian Heralds. We were outnumbered, so Mother took me and tried to get me out.”

The pressure around him grew heavier. For a brief moment, Zephyrion thought he saw Kastor lean forward slightly.

”Serenith... what happened to her?”

”...we were chased down. Mother stayed behind to draw them away. I stayed hidden. After a while, when everything went quiet, I came out... the forest was empty. The others were dead. I... don’t know what happened to her.”

”...I see.”

Zephyrion’s hands tightened unconsciously at his sides.

’Stay calm.’

Losing control now would serve no purpose. He drew in a slow breath, then released it, letting the emotion settle without allowing it to show.

Meanwhile, Kastor had closed his eyes, silent.

Zephyrion’s gaze hardened slightly as he looked at him.

’What did I expect?’

After joining the Order, he had kept track of the broader conflict between Ferran and the Pyrians. He had expected that, upon learning of the attack on his wife and heir, Kastor would respond.

Declare war. Do something. Anything.

But months passed, then years.

’He did nothing.’

Kastor might be a member of the Ten Thrones, but to Zephyrion, a man who couldn’t even avenge his own wife did not deserve reverence.

A moment later, Kastor opened his eyes.

The pressure in the air eased slightly.

”Where have you been?”