The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 237: Chapter 233 — Food

A pin drop would’ve sounded like a bomb.

The wall of Ocren and Donvaire cadets stared at the battered youth. Blood oozed from his bloodied face, and though he still breathed, that was it. He lay motionless, with only the whites of his eyes showing.

He had been knocked out by a single punch, one none of them had even seen.

They slowly turned back toward Zephyrion, each taking a large gulp. Tobias walked by his side, smiling smugly, while Fiona glared at them. But Zephyrion... he didn’t seem to see them. His stride never slowed, his gaze passing over them as though they were nothing but air.

Lasner Ocren, second in command of House Ocren, clenched his fists and straightened, planting himself firmly in Zephyrion’s path. Motivated, the other Ocren, and even the Donvaire cadets, did the same, tightening their line.

Lasner stepped forward.

"We can’t let you pa—"

"Move."

There was a chill in that single word, one that froze them where they stood. No one, not the onlookers, nor even Tobias and Fiona beside him, understood how or why, yet Lasner and the wall of cadets instinctively parted aside like flies.

Zephyrion had already walked past them and reached the table before they realized what had happened.

"Shit."

Lasner gritted his teeth, humiliation burning across his face. The smug look Tobias shot him only deepened the feeling.

Zephyrion settled into the seat directly opposite Vaelor, and the clink of utensils ceased. Lucien had stopped eating, his wary gaze fixed on Zephyrion, while Vaelor remained noticeably calmer.

Without so much as acknowledging his presence, he unfolded a towel and leisurely wiped the remnants of food from his mouth before setting it back on the table.

Only then did he raise his eyes, slowly tilting his head.

"Oh? I didn’t see you come in, Zephyrion. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

It was the second time Vaelor had addressed him directly by name. The first could be dismissed as a mistake. The second, not so much.

Every eye in the hall was on them now. Nedra. Draven. Kaelith. The wall of cadets. Horus and his crew. Even Kaiden and Kaelion watched in silence.

"What are you doing?"

"Hm?" Vaelor blinked. "I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Zephyrion. I seem to be doing quite a few things."

"The food."

"Oh." Vaelor chuckled. "I thought that much was obvious. I’m claiming it."

"It belongs to all the cadets. Our house. You can’t claim it."

"I can’t?" Vaelor let out a laugh. "Then you’re saying I can’t be Ferran. This has been the Ferran way since the time of our forefathers. The strong rule. The weak obey. Look at them..." He gestured toward Horus and the others, who instinctively stiffened. His smile widened.

"I take their food and water, and they stand there too afraid to say a word. Even the best the other cadets outside can do is complain behind my back. They don’t challenge me because they know exactly where they stand. I am strong. They are weak. They look at me and wish they were me. Strong enough to be admired. Strong enough to be feared. Isn’t that what it means to be Ferran?

"Strength is everything. It’s why they train. Why everyone dreams of becoming stronger. To deny that is to deny the Ferran way itself." He leaned back slightly, the corner of his lips curling upward. "Surely no one understands that better than the Lightning Prince."

There was amusement in Vaelor’s eyes, one that made his intentions perfectly clear.

’He’s baiting me.’

It was exactly as he had thought, and why he’d chided himself for making such an error. Everything was a farce.

Truth was, Vaelor wasn’t worth anything. He could end this entire matter with a single punch, overpowering him in one move. The Ferran way always favored the strong, and he was the strong. Destroying every one of them wouldn’t even take a minute. Yet doing so might cost him the true loyalty of the cadets he had been trying to build.

Ruling purely through strength had an expiry date. It was not true loyalty. He might be revered by the cadets, followed, admired, yet if it rested only on his strength, that loyalty would crumble the moment it came under pressure.

Beating Vaelor here would send a message to every cadet that this was how he dealt with problems, that if they too fell out of line, he would simply put them in their place. It was tyrannical, and it would not last.

Vaelor knew this, which was why he’d engineered this situation in the first place. Yet Zephyrion could not let the matter slide. As leader, backing down here would be a devastating blow to his authority. One he might never recover from.

The hall fell silent, every soul waiting for his response. Then, as though reaching a conclusion, he exhaled and leaned back in his seat.

"You’re right. The strong make the rules. It’s the Ferran way." Zephyrion tilted his head, smiling. "But aren’t you forgetting one thing? In this entire settlement... I’m the strong one."

Vaelor’s eyes glinted.

’He fell for it.’

Suppressing his excitement, he frowned.

"Then you’re saying you’re going to use your strength to force me into submission?"

"I am."

"So that’s the kind of leader you are." Vaelor scoffed, raising his voice. "Violence. How disappointingly—"

"Let’s play a game."

The words caught in Vaelor’s throat.

"...What?"

"I’ve heard the warriors of House Ocren pride themselves on their comprehension." Zephyrion tapped a finger against the table as though genuinely considering it. "A rune puzzle should do. What do you think?"

Rune puzzle was a game known to practically every Ferran ascendant child. Certain things would be locked behind complex runes, and it was up to them to decipher and determine what they concealed.

Vaelor narrowed his eyes.

"...What are you talking about?"

"I thought I was being obvious." Zephyrion looked at him. "We play for the food. Best of three. First to decipher wins. The loser shuts up."

Vaelor’s gaze lost focus for a brief moment. He was clearly weighing the offer.

Would he take the bait?

A moment later, he scoffed and shook his head.

"...There’s no point playing a child’s game. We’re cadets of the military academy. We fight wars."

"Ah." Zephyrion nodded slowly. "For a moment, I thought the rumors about House Ocren were true." He sighed. "Guess not."

Vaelor slammed his hand onto the table with a loud bang.

"Who says they aren’t true!"

Zephyrion merely stared at him.

Only then did Vaelor realize his mistake as every eye turned toward him. He slowly withdrew his hand, glaring daggers at Zephyrion.

Silence hung over the hall for several long seconds before he finally ground his teeth, his eyes burning.

"Fine. I accept."