The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 275: Chapter 270 — Loyal

”Nice suggestions.” Nedra nodded with a smirk. ”I say we get this started as soon as possible. By dawn, we should’ve made some headway.”

The shackles clacked against one another as the northern cadets shrank back, as though trying, and failing, to put as much distance between themselves and the southerners as possible.

”Y-you think you can scare us?” Jogo tried to put on a brave front, but the unease in his eyes betrayed him. ”Think again! We’re loyal!”

However, his fear had little to do with the threats being thrown around. In truth, it was Zephyrion. Since entering the room, those cold, indifferent purple eyes hadn’t once left him. They made him feel insignificant, almost pitifully small, as though he were something beneath notice.

”I-if you know what’s good for you, you’ll release us,” Jogo said, struggling to keep his voice steady. ”Our Prime is a total beast. You’ve never met anyone like him. He’s from the primary line of the Sarakhel, a Sanct, raised by monsters! He doesn’t tolerate nonsense. If anything happens to us, there’ll be hell to pay. He’ll wipe every one of you off the map. Especially you, Lightning Prince.”

For a moment, silence filled the room as the others exchanged baffled glances.

Then they burst into laughter.

Nedra shook her head, looking almost offended by the sheer stupidity of what she had just heard.

”A beast, my ass. Your fuck-shit Prime can suck my imaginary dick.”

Kaiden sneered, his contempt far less amused.

”Your Prime’s a coward. If he was really a beast, he wouldn’t have sent a pack of idiots to do his work. He would’ve come himself. Then I’d beat his ass into the floor.”

”Aside from that!” Tobias looked at Jogo as though he had just said the dumbest thing imaginable. ”You keep calling your Prime a beast, but my lord isn’t a beast, he’s a fucking calamity! He’d swallow your Prime whole, chew twice, then spit the pieces back out. You’ve never seen anyone like him before. I mean, he’s quiet, bu—”

”That’s enough.”

Zephyrion’s words cut through Tobias’ rambling like a hot knife through butter. Tobias fell silent in an instant. Even Kaiden and Nedra, who clearly still had plenty left to say, held their piece.

All eyes turned towards Zephyrion.

He stared at Jogo for a long moment. Under that indifferent gaze, the latter felt himself shrinking, beads of sweat slowly gathering across his face.

Eventually, Zephyrion finally spoke.

”Where did you get that armor?”

The others frowned, wondering what armor he was talking about. However, contrary to their expectations, Jogo instead paled.

”I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zephyrion offered no reply. With a casual wave, a streak flashed through the barely lit room. The dark attire covering each northern cadet split apart the next moment, revealing the gleaming black armor hidden beneath.

Jogo’s face visibly drained of color.

”That armor,” Zephyrion said. ”Where did you get it?”

Silence fell.

The others wore furrowed brows, trying to figure out why this even mattered. Of all of them, Tobias’ eyes suddenly widened. He nodded with a smile, as though everything had just clicked into place. A moment later, Nedra nodded as well. Then Fiona. Then Kaiden.

Draven merely stood there grinning, completely clueless.

The purpose of the question was quite simple.

The resource drop had been claimed by the southern house, and supposedly the northern house had received nothing.

Then why did they have armor?

A moment later, Jogo forcibly composed himself. Then, after giving it a moment’s thought, he spoke with a guarded expression.

”What? You’ve never heard of a crafter before? Ah, I get it, I get it.” Jogo grinned. ”Guess you southerners wouldn’t know quality if it hit you in the face. All you’ve got are a bunch of shitty crafters. Seeing real craftsmanship must be a rare occasion for you, huh?”

”Please.” Nedra took a step forward, her eyes turning icy. ”Give me five minutes alone with this cocksucker.”

While the north were known for their enchantments, the south were known for their craftsmanship, especially armor and weapons. The west, the Kharadun, were also known for craftsmanship, but theirs was an entirely different discipline. In any case, Jogo’s words had just trivialized and insulted what every southerner took pride in, an insult of the highest order.

Aside from Nedra, even the others now wore cold expressions.

As the air turned increasingly oppressive, Jogo instinctively cleared his throat, falling silent. Still, he kept his chin raised, stubbornly maintaining the appearance of confidence.

Zephyrion, though, didn’t even flinch.

”Your armors are flawless, durable, and perfectly identical. Every set is made from the metal of a Mark Seven. Same resonance. Same weight. Same density. If you’ve ever crafted anything in your life, you’d know crafters don’t waste time making every piece identical. They care about durability and function. The only exception is mass-produced military equipment. Soldiers need consistency. Everything is made to match. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

By this point, Jogo’s expression had darkened to the extreme. Still, Zephyrion continued.

”These armors weren’t crafted by any cadets of the northern house. They’re military-grade. Which confuses me because, earlier today, the southern house acquired the resource drop. So... how did you get them?”

Jogo desperately grasped for another excuse.

”Well... we got there first. We grabbed a few things before you showed up.”

”The resource drop can only be opened once. Once it’s opened, it stays open.”

He had tested it himself before destroying it entirely and had already confirmed as much.

Jogo fell silent, his teeth grinding together.

”The armor...” Zephyrion paused for a moment. ”Your Prime gave it to you, didn’t he?”

Jogo’s jaw tightened even further.

”Tell me. Where do you think he got it from?”

He held Jogo’s gaze for several long moments. Then, Jogo spat on the ground, glaring back without the slightest intention of backing down.

”I won’t ever betray my Prime.”

Zephyrion slowly nodded.

”Suit yourself. Strip them.”

Then, after a brief pause, he added;

”And get me a horse.”

Jogo’s eyes widened in horror as the southerners closed in on him.