The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 269: Chapter 264 — Celebrate

It took several minutes for Lumi, Kaiden, Horus, and the others to return with the resource drop. As they walked through the gates, cadets lining the walls and gathered across the courtyard erupted into loud cheers, hurling praise after praise.

The reactions varied among them. Lumi unceremoniously ignored the cheers, her gaze drifting across the crowd as though searching for someone. Zephyrion realized who the moment their eyes met and she smiled at him, clearly expecting praise.

He frowned, unsure how to respond. Wasn’t she keeping her distance from him? Then what... was this?

Kaiden, on the other hand, looked like he might start floating if the cheers continued. His chin rose higher and higher, as though trying to spear the heavens. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

Horus was the complete opposite. Scratching the back of his head with an awkward grin, he looked more like a shy little boy than someone who had just returned victorious.

Along with the others, Zephyrion walked over to them.

”Good job.”

He gave an approving nod, making sure to smile.

Lumi nodded back with a smile brighter than the sun.

”We barely did anything,” Kaiden said, flicking a cautious glance toward Lumi. ”She did all the work.”

The little one was a monster in a cute skin. Several of them were just starting to understand that.

Horus, meanwhile, fisted his chest.

”It’s our honor, Prime!”

Nodding, Zephyrion turned his attention to the resource crate. It was massive, forged entirely of metal, its sleek surface so flawless it looked almost untouched.

”Lady Lumi got there before they could touch it!” Horus quickly explained. ”They didn’t manage to take a single thing!”

”What house?”

It was something Zephyrion had been trying to figure out for a while. Unfortunately, despite spending months at the academy, distinguishing one house from another through their fortress was still difficult. Yet knowing which house directly bordered theirs was highly significant. It would determine how he approached this war from the very beginning.

Rather than Horus, it was Kaiden who answered.

”The Sarakhel.” Kaiden snorted. ”Saw the tattoos on their chests. Besides, I can smell those self-righteous bastards from a mile away.”

’The Sarakhel...’

This... changes things.

The Sarakhel were masters at manipulating the masses, and the descendants of their dynasty were particularly gifted at it. If nothing else, he should expect a level of solidarity from the northern house that most other houses simply couldn’t match.

Aside from that, like every other dynasty house, the Sarakhel possessed a power that placed them above ordinary houses.

The ability to enchant.

In simple terms, through the use of metal-element runes, the Sarakhel could enchant almost anything, even themselves. Greater strength, heightened speed, teleportation—the possibilities were nearly endless. They were every bit as dangerous as the other dynasty houses and should never be underestimated.

”Open it,” Zephyrion ordered a moment later, taking a step back.

Horus nodded and hurried over to the crate. The moment he resonated with it, countless runes flared to life across its surface. An instant later, the crate sprang open, releasing a cloud of cold mist into the air.

As it gradually dispersed, everyone’s eyes fell upon the neatly arranged contents within. Weapons. Relics. Armor. And... food. Loads and loads of food, along with beverages and refreshments.

Several pairs of eyes lit up almost instantly. It was enough food to keep them supplied for quite some time. At the very least, they wouldn’t have to worry about their dwindling stock anytime soon.

Zephyrion studied the crate in silence for a few moments before turning to the cadets.

”You’ve all worked hard, and I believe that deserves recognition.” He said with a smile. ”Everyone except those on patrol is to gather in the mess hall. Tonight, we celebrate.”

The cadets blinked. Once. Twice. Again. Then they exchanged uncertain glances, wondering if they’d somehow misheard him.

Fortunately, Tobias voiced what everyone else was thinking.

”...My lord... did I hear that correctly? You... want us to celebrate?” he asked, staring at Zephyrion as though the latter had suddenly grown a second head.

”Yes.”

”...You’re serious?”

Tobias’ eyes slowly widened. Kaiden, Kaelion, Fiona, and nearly every other cadet wore much the same expression.

It was expected. After all, not once since Zephyrion had taken command had he ever suggested something like a celebration.

Among them all, however, Nedra, who had long since regained her composure, was the first to frown.

”Is that really using ample neurons, Prime? We just secured the resources while the northern house got nothing. They’ll be even more desperate now. They could attack at any moment.”

The cadets, understanding her point, immediately frowned, several of them nodding in agreement. It made perfect sense.

”That’s why I plan to double the patrols.” Zephyrion shook his head. ”The moment they make a move, we’ll know.”

His reasoning was just as sound.

The cadets’ gazes shifted between the frowning Nedra and their calm, ever-composed Prime, whom they trusted with all their hearts, before they made their choice without the slightest hesitation.

”The Prime’s right...”

”Yeah. We’ll see them coming anyway.”

”And besides...” One cadet grinned. ”It’s a celebration.”

Besides, the past few months had been nothing short of hell, and not a single cadet could bring themselves to turn down a celebration.

Soon, the resource crate was hauled away amid the cadets’ thunderous cheers.

...

Within the northern house war room, a chorus of derisive laughter echoed through the chamber.

The generals of the northern house stood around the war table, clad in gleaming armor that caught the light with every movement. They had just listened to everything that had transpired within the southern fortress, and now cold, mocking grins stretched across every face.

”They’re actually celebrating over that? Hah. I expected more from the famous Lightning Prince. Just how incompetent is their Prime?” one of the generals sneered.

”It wasn’t even a victory. They never once realized we let them take the crate.” Another scoffed. ”And now they’re celebrating it.”

”Well, can you really blame them? They’re southerners. Expecting them to see through the young lord’s brilliance is asking far too much.”

”Exactly!”

Wide, satisfied grins spread across the generals’ faces as they turned toward their Prime.

Malach Sanct Sarakhel stood like a giant among men, towering over the generals and nearly everything else within the war room. Even now, he remained silent, his crimson eyes half-lidded as they rested upon the war table, a calculating light flickering within them. He didn’t seem to care that every eye in the room was fixed on him, simply staring at the war table.