The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 182: Chapter 179 — Criminal

Zephyrion was delighted. Good news. Completely good news.

With this, his objective for the banquet was largely complete. He had made a favorable impression on the lords of the south and acquired the full inheritance.

As he was about to browse through it, he felt Demorian’s curious gaze settle on him.

’...what?’

’I’m just curious, my protégé. How in the world did you know he was going to try something like that?’

Zephyrion could understand how the man felt.

Earlier that night, Zephyrion had informed the ancestor about Kaelith’s plans to attack his mind. Since then, he had merely been waiting. The balcony, isolated, dark, and quiet, was the perfect place for it.

A bait.

Zephyrion saw no reason to keep it to himself, so he answered.

’During our fight, his expressions kept changing. It was subtle, but he was clearly arguing with someone in his head. The inheritance.’

’Before he used that last art, he was angrier than usual. I knew it was either because he was losing, or because the inheritance had told him to forfeit. The latter seemed more likely.’

’The only reason it would tell him to forfeit was if it had realized I was trying to copy the art. Once I actually used it, that would’ve been all the confirmation it needed.’

’As you know, inheritances are usually left behind so their owners can one day see their arts restored to glory. Most of them aren’t particularly fond of the idea of someone else copying those arts.’

’So I knew it would eventually attempt to attack my mind and probably cripple it in the process.’

Demorian was speechless. All of this... all deduced from a single fight? Zephyrion hadn’t even spoken to the boy.

’You... how did you become like this...?’

’I—’

Zephyrion paused. He had almost mentioned his mother, but...

’That’s too much information.’ He thought to himself.

Rule eight. Never reveal everything you know.

’Hm?’ Demorian let out a long sigh. ’Oh come on. One memory. Just one. Throw the old man a bone here.’

He sounded genuinely frustrated, but Zephyrion ignored him. Instead, his attention shifted toward the petite girl currently tugging at his sleeve with furrowed brows.

”...what?”

Lumi immediately gestured toward where Kaelith had been standing, signing that she had been trying to ask what happened this entire time.

”He tried to cripple my mind and failed.”

Lumi’s eyes narrowed. She turned toward the direction Kaelith had left, her gaze rapidly growing cold.

Zephyrion held back a chuckle at the sudden change.

”It’s fine. I taught him a lesson. He won’t be coming back.”

Lumi didn’t appear convinced. To her, the boy had run away on his own two feet. The lesson hardly seemed sufficient.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. Zephyrion frowned. The music, the endless chatter, the laughter, the clinking of glasses... Every sound within the banquet hall had vanished.

’Something happened.’

Zephyrion turned and stepped back inside. The first thing that greeted him was the tension, hanging over the hall like a suffocating weight.

His eyes quickly found the source. Three men stood at the center of the room.

They wore pure black robes trimmed with white along the hems, white matted caps resting atop their heads. Etched across the front of each robe was the image of a faceless man standing tall, the sigil of the Ferran Faith.

The three men carried an unusual presence. Gentle, yet cruel. Every eye was fixed on them while a heavy silence settled over the hall.

Zephyrion’s gaze lingered on the man standing between the other two, recognizing him instantly.

The man possessed a stern face and a dignified aura. Though shorter than the priests flanking him, he naturally drew the eye.

High Priest Koran.

High Priests governed the Ferran Church on a regional scale. They were influential figures, respected and revered throughout the Empire, and strictly Sarakhel. More importantly... a High Priest rarely appeared without reason. Only something significant could move a man of such standing.

Suddenly, Zephyrion felt something grip his hand. He looked down. Lumi. She had moved behind him at some point and was clutching his hand tightly. Trembling. Her eyes fixed on the High Priest.

’She’s afraid.’

Zephyrion was stunned. They had fought together in life-threatening situations. Survived massacres. Stood on battlefields littered with corpses. He had seen her angry. He had seen her annoyed. He had seen her sad. But afraid? Never.

A sudden surge of inexplicable rage rose within him.

Zephyrion slowly turned back toward the High Priest, only to discover the man was already looking in his direction. No. Not him... Lumi.

Zephyrion’s body stiffened. Had he missed something? This was not good.

”I greet you all, lords. May the Iron Father be with us all.” Koran spoke in a stern tone. ”Unfortunately, I am not here to join in the festivities. I have come on behalf of the Ferran Church to apprehend a criminal.”

He ignored Zephyrion entirely and fixed his gaze on Lumi. The girl instinctively shrank further behind Zephyrion, her trembling visibly worsening.

”Lumi Ser Sarakhel. You will answer to the Ferran Church for your treasonous crimes. Apprehend her.”

Zephyrion’s eyes were blocks of ice, a blade already forming in his grip.

The two priests had barely taken a step when Ingrid stepped between them.

”Where do you think this is?” Ingrid’s voice was cold. ”This is Calderalth. Do you believe you can simply walk in here and do as you please?”

Zephyrion’s thoughts were a mess. Still, Ingrid’s sudden intervention made him realize exactly what he had been about to do. He dispersed the forming blade. He glanced at Lumi. Even now, her tiny frame was trembling behind him.

Since they met, she had never appeared so vulnerable. Zephyrion gritted his teeth and faced forward. There was an absoluteness to his movement.

He wasn’t moving.

At the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from directing a faintly baffled look toward Ingrid.

Every lord in attendance had spent the evening attempting to earn his favor, yet not one of them had stepped forward. Even the city lords remained cautious, unwilling to offend the Ferran Church.

Yet Ingrid’s back was broad and straight, like some protector out of a fairytale. Zephyrion was confused.

Why was she helping him?

”High Judicar.” Koran’s expression remained unchanged. ”I am fully aware of where I am. But there is no place beyond the Iron Father’s reach. You know this. The girl has committed a grievous act against the Iron Father. She must be judged.”

”Haa... what a load of horseshit.”

Garrick stepped forward with a crazy grin.

”Iron Father this, Iron Father that. Why doesn’t the old man come here himself so we can have a good conversation, hm?”

”Watch your words!” Koran’s eyes grew intense. ”Do not speak about the Iron Father with such disrespect, Garrick.”

”Haha...”

Garrick’s laughter echoed across the hall. He seemed to be in no rush, taking his time. The other lords couldn’t help but stare at him in bafflement. He seemed like a madman.

Koran’s expression gradually darkened as the laughter continued. Eventually, Garrick exhaled, the laughter finally tapering off as he wiped at the corner of one eye.

Then he lifted his head and looked at Koran.

Gravity seemed to increase.

”Or what?”