The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation-Chapter 25 - 24 — Ingrid Calderalth

Ingrid Calderalth had a deep frown on her face as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

A beautiful, regal woman with flowing black hair stared back at her. She was impeccably dressed, her navy blue uniform neatly pressed, hugging her figure perfectly.

Her appearance would’ve been perfect, if not for this one thing.

’Has it always been like this?’

Her gaze narrowed slightly as she focused on the tilted sigil pinned to her chest.

She adjusted it carefully, making sure it sat straight before pulling her hand back. However, only a moment later, it tilted to the side again.

A faint crease formed between her brows. She had spent the past five minutes trying to fix it, yet it refused to stay in place.

She had worn this sigil for more than a year, and this was the first time it had ever given her so much trouble.

’Not today.’

Of all the days this could have happened, it just had to be today, when every house in the south would be scrutinizing her every move.

She reached up once more, adjusting it with a bit more force this time, but the result remained the same. The sigil tilted again, almost mockingly.

Ingrid stilled, then exhaled quietly, suppressing the irritation rising within her. To think she had struggled so hard to earn the damn thing, only for it to become a nuisance now, made her want to rip it off and incinerate it.

’Breathe.’

Her gaze lifted to meet her own in the mirror as she drew in a slow, controlled breath. She held it for a moment before releasing it just as steadily, forcing the tension out of her body.

Today was not the day she could afford even the slightest lapse.

After a brief pause, she reached for a thin metal pin and carefully fastened the sigil in place. This time, she made sure it was secured firmly.

A moment later, she straightened fully, her posture shifting as she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

The woman in the mirror no longer looked mildly irritated, but composed and commanding, like a general who held the attention of vast armies with nothing but her presence.

She studied herself for a moment, then gave a small, decisive nod.

’You’re ready.’

A knock came from the door the next moment.

"Yes?"

"My lady..."

There was a brief pause before the ward continued.

"...he’s here."

Ingrid froze, her fingers tightening slightly at her side as a faint tension coiled within her chest.

She closed her eyes almost immediately, drawing in a steady breath as she reined in the reaction. When she opened them again, every trace of hesitation had already been buried.

"Alright."

She turned toward the door and stepped out a moment later, her movements calm.

Her expression remained composed, but her eyes had turned fierce.

...

"Are the rumors true? Is he really alive?"

"The three great lines have confirmed it. I heard he’s already ascending the mountain as we speak."

"That... it’s been seven years. Where has he been all this time? How did he even survive the ambush?"

"There are more pressing matters than that. What about the repercussions? He was heir before his disappearance, what happens now that he’s back?"

"You don’t think... Lady Ingrid would have to give up her claim? That’s bad news. What happens to all my support then?"

"It’s not that simple. She climbed the ranks in his absence and became the head of one of the three great lines at such a young age. Unless he’s returning as a Dominion, I don’t see that happening."

"That may be true... but don’t forget, he became a Vessel at eight years old."

The remark caused a brief silence among the nobles.

"Still... I suppose this means a battle for succession is coming."

"It’s inevitable. All I know is, a change is coming to Calderalth—"

"The High Justicar, Ingrid Calderalth, has arrived!"

The bustling grand hall fell silent as the massive double doors swung open.

Ingrid Calderalth stepped in with calm, measured strides. Her back was straight, her posture flawless, her gaze fixed ahead without wavering.

The grand hall was filled to the brim. Every house of the South, whether high or lesser, had some presence within the hall. Some house heads had attended personally, while others had sent delegates in their stead.

Every single one of them had come to witness the same thing.

The return of Calderalth’s genius prodigy; Zephyrion Calderalth.

Ingrid allowed none of her emotions to surface. She could feel the weight of countless gazes settling on her, each one sharp, searching. With her brother’s return, that scrutiny had only intensified.

She could not afford even the slightest crack.

Giving a curt nod of acknowledgment to the heads of the other two great lines, she moved to her seat and settled onto the throne beside them.

It did not take long for the whispers to return. Fragments of conversation drifted into Ingrid’s ears, but she paid them no mind.

Instead, her gaze shifted briefly behind her, settling on the iron-forged throne of broken swords.

It was empty.

’He didn’t come.’

A faint relief settled in her chest. At the very least, her father’s absence meant that Zephyrion’s return was not being treated as the center of everything.

She exhaled quietly and faced forward again.

The hall continued to buzz, but Ingrid shut her eyes, allowing the noise to fade into the background as she centered herself.

Her brother had returned. Which meant change was inevitable. And she would have to be ready for all of it.

It was not long before an announcement rang out.

"Zephyrion Calderalth of the primary line... has returned."