The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 371: Chapter 366 — Ceremony

The award ceremony was supposed to be small. A gathering consisting of the bastion commander and his group of elites, numbering only a small fraction of the apprentices. Due to the commander’s personality, Zephyrion had expected him to stretch the definition a little, perhaps invite a few high-ranking generals and call it close enough.

He hadn’t expected the entire damn bastion.

The more than two hundred apprentices currently stationed at Greywatch were all packed into the massive main mess hall, alongside generals, soldiers, non-combatants, and, for some inexplicable reason, even the cleaners, every last one of them staring directly at him.

’I really should have expected this...’

The hall was a bit rowdy from the sheer number of people gathered within it, but that wasn’t the source of Zephyrion’s current irritation. It was the probing eyes, the shocked stares, the looks of awe, suspicion, and even fear that followed his every movement.

He’d been foolish to think his advancement had gone unnoticed. Though there hadn’t been a dramatic explosion like when he first advanced to Herald rank, the sudden but significant surge of WorldPulse had been more than enough to alert the powerhouses within the bastion.

Coming out of the bathroom, Zephyrion had been greeted by the sight of several old, gruff men standing in the room, all staring at him with wide, trembling eyes.

The news had spread across the bastion over the past few hours, and as he anticipated, probably the entire empire by now.

A nineteen-year-old mark two Herald...

Now they had all come here to witness his swearing-in ceremony.

’Let’s just get this over with.’

He was clad in a formal, ceremonial Ferran military uniform, impeccable in appearance, but unusually tight and grossly uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to get back to his room and rip the damn thing off his body.

Just behind him stood the other elites under the bastion commander, arranged perfectly straight in a horizontal line.

Even without turning around, Zephyrion could still feel several shocked gazes boring into his back, especially from the broad-shouldered man standing in the middle, whose sheer presence seemed to swallow the apprentices around him. He was the calmest of the lot, though ever since Zephyrion entered the hall, those cold eyes of his hadn’t left him once.

To his front stood the probable cause of his grievance. The bastion commander, Gonaster Calderalth, was a short, hardened man with an almost perpetually eccentric look on his face. Even now, he was grinning at Zephyrion from ear to ear, as though he’d personally done something to make him the proudest man on the planet.

’You’d think he was the one who advanced.’

Eventually, Gonaster gave a small nod, and his aura rippled across the hall, gradually silencing the crowd.

”Zephyrion Calderalth. Get up here, boy.”

He did so immediately, straightening as he came to a stop before the commander, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. It was simply a means to an end. After this, he could finally go on missions. Could finally get to the bottom of Void.

”For the past month, we’ve run you into the ground, worked you half to death, and thrown just about everything Greywatch has at you. There’s a reason for that. Ferrans don’t care much for pretty words. We care about what a man can do when things get ugly.

”Greywatch stands between our people and everything out there that wants them dead, so capable soldiers aren’t enough. We need men and women who can be beaten bloody, dragged through hell, and still stand back up. We need tempered soldiers.”

Gonaster swept a stern gaze across the hall before finally settling it back on Zephyrion.

”Zephyrion Calderalth... over the past month, you’ve proven yourself to be exactly that, and probably a little too damn good at it. You are tempered. You are Ferran. And with every bastard in this hall as my witness, I hereby swear you into our fold. Raise your hand and repeat after me.”

Zephyrion mimicked Gonaster, raising his arm.

”I swear to protect the empire above all else. To stand as a barrier against all who wish to do it harm. To forsake the pleasures of life in servitude to our empire.”

Zephyrion had attended several swear-ins during his childhood and had always found them very... stupid.

Apparently, soldiers were required to give up every happiness in life in service to millions of people who probably didn’t give a damn about them. He’d always known the day would eventually come when he’d have to do the same, as every Ferran went through it upon formally joining the military, and he’d wondered more than once what he would do when the time came.

It hadn’t taken him long to reach a conclusion.

He’d just lie.

”I swear...”

Zephyrion repeated every single word without hesitation, and soon, it was all done.

”Then welcome to the fold, soldier. May we be the iron that tempers the world.”

The commander pinned the sigil of Greywatch to his chest, and a wave of applause immediately broke out across the hall.

’Finally...’

”Ah, one more thing.” ℯ

’Of course.

Zephyrion inwardly sighed as the commander’s words brought the applause to a halt. Gonaster was staring at him with a barely contained excitement that Zephyrion didn’t quite like, before eventually turning to address the crowd.

”I’m sure every last one of you has already heard about Apprentice Zephyrion Calderalth’s latest little accomplishment...”

Several eyes immediately returned to Zephyrion, the shock, awe, and fear resurfacing as they were once again reminded of the impossible thing standing before them. Zephyrion frowned slightly, wondering where all this was going.

”Well, seeing as the brat apparently decided one impossible achievement wasn’t enough for the month, I believe a proper reward is in order. There are still a few days before the actual ceremony, but I hate wasting time, so we might as well get this over with now.”

Gonaster grinned.

”Apprentice of the Month goes to Zephyrion Calderalth.”