The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation-Chapter 35 - 34 — Garrick Calderalth

Above, the head trainer fixed him with a heavy, piercing gaze.

"Why are you here?"

"To train."

The head trainer tilted his head slightly.

"You know what training here means? This isn’t some place you just walk into."

Zephyrion felt an overwhelming force engulf him as the man’s bloodlust burst forth.

Lumi clutched his arm tightly, her body going rigid.

"Ah—!"

"W-what is this pressure...?!"

"I—I can’t breathe...!"

Even the trainees, who had already put some distance between them, clenched their fists and gritted their teeth, struggling to maintain their composure.

However, the one the bloodlust was directed at remained unmoved.

"Yes."

The burly man narrowed his eyes, locking gazes with him for several seconds. The pressure bore down on Zephyrion, yet it failed to stir the stillness in his gaze.

Suddenly, the man’s lips curled into a grin before he burst into loud laughter.

"Haha! So the rumors were true!"

Retracting his bloodlust, the burly man jumped down from the platform and pulled Zephyrion into a crushing embrace before he could react.

The sharp stench of alcohol rushed his senses, and Zephyrion instinctively held his breath.

"I knew those fire bastards couldn’t kill you! You’re still alive!"

The man didn’t seem to care about Zephyrion’s discomfort, tightening his hold. Zephyrion quickly tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

"Uncle Garrick..."

"Huh?"

At his voice, Garrick finally pulled back and released him.

Catching his breath, Zephyrion cast his uncle a look.

"...Are you trying to crush me?"

"Haha! Sorry, sorry. Got a little carried away."

Garrick laughed, giving him a rough slap on the back.

"Seven years! Seven whole years! That’s enough time to empty a brewery!"

"I see you still like to drink."

"Of course! What kind of man doesn’t drink? That’s just wrong."

"...I don’t drink."

Garrick gave a short laugh.

"We’ll fix that."

"...What have they been feeding you all these years?" He looked him over from head to toe. "You’ve grown. Look at you."

"You used to be so tiny back then. Look at your arms too..."

Zephyrion couldn’t help the slight irritation that rose within him. His short height during childhood had always been a sore spot.

Aside from his mother’s endless jabs, people had always looked down on him, no matter the situation.

It had also made him an easy target for bullying when he first joined the order, though it was nothing a few broken bones couldn’t fix.

A faint smile touched Zephyrion’s lips.

"It’s been seven years. I’ve grown."

"...Yeah. You have."

Garrick let out a breath, studying him with a gentler gaze. He shook his head slightly, and then his expression gradually turned serious.

"Where in the Iron Father’s name have you been?"

The smile faded from Zephyrion’s face as his eyes darkened briefly.

"Surviving."

"Surviving, huh..."

Noticing the fierce look in Zephyrion’s eyes, Garrick grinned.

"Hah! I missed you. No one’s broken anything properly since you left. It’s been damn boring!"

"I’m sure you’re exaggerating."

"I’m not! You see—"

"Another time, Uncle. That’s not why I’m here."

Garrick blinked, momentarily thrown off, before his eyes suddenly lit up in realization.

"...Ah. Right. Training, yeah? Almost slipped my mind."

"We’ll be training."

Zephyrion gestured behind him, and Lumi hesitantly stepped forward. It was only then that Garrick seemed to properly notice her.

"Oh?"

Garrick’s gaze lingered on the little cute girl for a moment before a sly smile spread across his face, followed by a knowing wink toward Zephyrion.

Zephyrion frowned slightly.

"...What?"

"Haha, nothing. Just saying... you’ve got your uncle’s blood in you."

Zephyrion met him with a blank stare.

Garrick chuckled, giving his shoulder a firm slap before turning away and calling out,

"Kons!"

One of the instructors quickly stepped forward.

"Take the young lord, and his... lady, for an assessment."

"Yes, head instructor."

Moments later, they were led away from the Steel training grounds.

Zephyrion’s gaze drifted to his arm. His fist was clenched so tightly that his fingers had dug into his palm.

’Tobias was right. He’s still an instructor.’

Garrick was one of Kastor’s brothers. Though crude and a drunk, he was one of the most respected warriors in the South, having earned the title of Drunken Warhound of Calderalth.

It had taken everything Zephyrion had to maintain a calm expression under Garrick’s overwhelming bloodlust.

’It was necessary.’

From past experience, he knew Garrick to be a brutally honest warrior who valued strength and willpower above all else.

It was because Zephyrion had shown those traits in the past that Garrick had grown fond of him in the first place.

If he had shown even a moment of weakness before Garrick, he would have lost the man’s acknowledgment.

Garrick held considerable influence over the instructors in charge of the youths’ training. Being in his good graces would be beneficial.