The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 366: Chapter 361 — Greywatch

Greywatch Bastion wasn’t like most bastions on the eastern front. Perched atop a high hill and surrounded by endless wilderness bordering the Aeralith Empire, its duty was split between safeguarding the border and protecting the Ferran people inhabiting the region from wild mutated beasts.

Zephyrion had researched the bastion extensively before even leaving the academy. More than that, Greywatch had been one of the many bastions he’d visited as a child, so he wasn’t surprised to discover that everything was just as he remembered and expected.

The walls were tall, dark and imposing, lined with countless gigantic turrets. The bastion grounds vast and spacious, packed with enough self-sustaining facilities to keep the fortress operational through years of war if necessary. At its center stood the main building, four floors tall, with the highest floor reserved for the fortress’s commanding officers. Above it all, thick black smoke blanketed the skies, pouring endlessly from the numerous forges operating below.

To Zephyrion, it was as though he’d been thrust right back into the academy. Everything, from the towering walls to the dull colors of the buildings, closely resembled the fortresses he’d spent the past months fighting in. Somehow, despite only having left recently, the sight felt oddly nostalgic.

Well, almost.

Instead of green-faced cadets scrambling around trying to look like soldiers, Greywatch was littered with heavily muscled, battle-hardened men who looked like they ate said cadets for breakfast.

Still, the familiarity was refreshing.

The fortress itself wasn’t the only thing that turned out as he’d anticipated, though. The people had proven equally predictable.

The Bastion Commander was a short, hardened man with a blunt and boisterous personality. There had been no mind games, subtle tests or attempts to establish his authority.

At this point, practically the entire Ferran Empire had heard of Zephyrion, while those who actually mattered had seen what he was capable of. Upon his arrival, the commander had welcomed him with open arms, laughing boisterously, slapping him on the back and immediately launching into what felt like a personal campaign to convince Zephyrion that Greywatch was the greatest place in the entire Ferran Empire.

The food was apparently incredible, the beds unmatched, the soldiers wonderful company, and if Zephyrion so much as frowned at something, the short, battle-hardened commander looked about ready to have it personally executed.

Zephyrion had seen through his excitement from a mile away.

Someone with Zephyrion’s feats and accomplishments choosing a bastion like Greywatch had come as a shock to many, and the honor and prestige that would come from being known as the man who trained the empire’s hottest genius were immense. It was obvious the commander wanted him to stay, and he seemed determined to ensure Zephyrion never had a reason to consider leaving.

Zephyrion found the entire situation beneficial.

Having someone with the commander’s authority so eager to keep him around was a godsend.

The others, too, turned out as expected. The bastion was divided between the regular soldiers and the apprentices. He barely interacted with the former, but he could feel their eyes following him whenever he wandered through the bastion and hear the whispers that trailed in his wake. Some were filled with awe, others with an inexplicable hostility.

The apprentices, though, he had far more interactions with. There were roughly two hundred of them within the bastion, many of whom had chosen to continue shadowing their masters even after their mandatory one-year apprenticeship had ended.

The majority, due to their ranks at the academy, were attached to lower-ranking officers and generals, while he and, as he soon discovered, a select few elites had been assigned directly to the commander, given the opportunity to shadow and learn from one of the greats, as Ferrans would say.

As with every organization, the apprentices had established a hierarchy of their own, largely determined by the rank of their masters. The apprentices of lieutenants sat at the bottom, while the elites shadowing the commander practically ruled the rest. The former were expected to bow to the latter, or otherwise face rather unpleasant repercussions.

Of them all, Zephyrion had identified the one sitting at the very top of this hierarchy on his first day.

Posum Ocren.

According to the other apprentices, Posum had always been the Bastion Commander’s most favoured apprentice.

Well, that was before Zephyrion arrived.

Now, all the commander seemed to sing were Zephyrion’s praises. He’d noticed the hostility in Posum’s eyes from the very first day, and from the way several apprentices had suddenly begun avoiding and shunning him soon after, it wasn’t difficult to tell just how deep Posum’s influence ran.

Still, all of them were afterthoughts compared to his true goal.

After Horus’ death, Zephyrion had thought extensively about his next course of action. He’d spent close to a decade within the Order and, in a way, understood what Frost was and what it was capable of.

Void, however, was entirely different. He knew practically nothing about the being, wasn’t even certain of its gender. Horus was the only link to Void he had, and Zephyrion found it necessary to uncover even the smallest detail about him. At the very least, determine whether or not he were friend or foe. For all he knew, everything that came out of Horus’ mouth were lies.

At the same time, Zephyrion still intended to rise through the ranks of the military, which was precisely why he’d chosen this bastion in the first place.

But the moment he tried to pursue his goal, Zephyrion came across a firm, and rather unexpected, obstacle.

The commander.

Apparently, every apprentice assigned to him had to undergo a month of hazing before officially joining the fold. Without joining the fold, he couldn’t go on missions. Without missions, he couldn’t pursue his investigation.

Unfortunately, every attempt to sway the commander fell on deaf ears, and Zephyrion eventually had to accept the fact that his plans were going to be delayed by an entire month.

He decided to use the time to focus on other matters instead. First, of course, was his advancement to mark two Herald rank. Unfortunately, before leaving the academy, Demorian had imposed yet another rather annoying restriction on him.ℯℯ𝑙.