I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 1393 Full of Surprises
Chapter 1393 Full of Surprises
Several nobles nodded. Subtle, careful nods, the kind that committed to nothing but acknowledged the point.
Northern almost smiled.
‘He hasn’t changed at all. Same man who wanted to surrender before the war started, now repackaged in congratulations and temperance.’
What Northern found interesting was how Eryx was trying to find a way out again. He wasn’t arguing against Northern. He wasn’t saying the victory was meaningless. He was praising Northern with one hand and undermining the foundation of that praise with the other. If the Empire’s forces truly dwarfed what they’d faced, then the victory was a fluke, a temporary reprieve, and the smart play was still to negotiate.
Eryx never had to say any of that directly. He just had to plant the numbers.
‘Clever man. Cowardly, but clever.’
Duke Sethran’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Lord Eryx raises a fair strategic concern,” the General said, his tone neutral in the way that meant he was choosing his words carefully. “The Empire will retaliate. That much is certain.”
He looked at Northern directly.
“What is also certain is that we would not be having this discussion at all if not for Lord Northern. We would be having a very different discussion. One about the terms of our surrender.”
Eryx’s face didn’t change, but his fingers tightened slightly against each other.
Northern caught it.
“General Sethran speaks the truth,” another voice added. It came from the far end of the table, from a man who sat with his sword cradled against his chest like a sleeping child. Duke Amene Kaien. The Gentleman of Ash and Flame. His blind eyes were closed, his posture relaxed, as though he were merely resting in a place he happened to wander into.
“I heard the battle from this very mountain,” he said, his voice carrying that soft, almost melodic quality that could either comfort or unsettle depending on his intent. “Every soul that fell, I felt it pass. Every clash of metal, every scream, every silence where a life used to be.” He tilted his head, and despite the closed eyes, Northern had the distinct and unsettling feeling that the man was looking directly at him. “I also heard what Lord Northern did in the forest that night.”
There was a pause in the atmosphere.
“It was not a battle. It was a culling.”
The room went dead still.
Jiro’s smile was small, private, and entirely unreadable.
“I find it curious that Lord Eryx speaks of what the Empire might bring next, as though the thing sitting at this table is something that can be overcome with additional soldiers.” He tilted his head the other way. “Forgive a blind man his bluntness, but some of you are still measuring the wrong things.”
Eryx’s composure cracked for just an instant. A flicker of something in his eyes, there and gone, too fast for most to catch. Northern caught it.
And that thing… was the real divide in this room.
Some of these nobles were afraid of the Empire. They had always been afraid of the Empire, and the victory hadn’t changed that because fear that deep wasn’t erased by a single battle. It was a foundation. It shaped how they thought, how they planned, how they positioned themselves. Men like Eryx had built their entire political philosophy around the inevitability of the Empire’s supremacy. One victory didn’t collapse that foundation. It just made the cracks harder to ignore.
But some of them were now afraid of Northern. And those were the ones who sat quieter, whose glances carried that unbearable light of hope, whose calculations had shifted from ‘how do we survive the Empire’ to ‘how do we keep this young man on our side.’
Both groups were, in their own way, acting out of self-preservation.
Northern understood that perfectly. He might have been the only person in the room who didn’t judge them for it.
‘People protect themselves. That’s not evil. It’s not even wrong. It’s just… human.’
King Ruger allowed the silence to breathe for a moment, then spoke.
“The Empire will come again. On this, everyone in this room agrees.” He looked around the table, meeting each noble in turn. “The question is not whether to prepare. It is how.”
He turned to Northern.
“Lord Northern. You said before the war that you were all Ryugan would need. The battle seems to have proven that claim.” The King’s expression was careful, testing. “Does it still hold? For what comes next?”
Every eye in the room turned to Northern.
He sat there for a moment, feeling the weight of their attention. The hope. The fear. The calculation. The desperate need to believe in something, anything, that could guarantee survival.
‘I could tell them the truth. That I don’t know what the Empire will send next. That five Luminaries is a problem even for me. That I’m not infallible, that I’m not a god, that there will come a fight where the margins are thin and the outcome uncertain.’
He could tell them all of that.
But these were not people who needed honesty right now. They needed something to hold onto. Something harder than fear.
Northern looked at the King, then let his gaze drift across the room, passing over every noble, every expression, every pair of eyes watching him. He stopped on Lord Eryx for just a moment longer than the others. Not aggressive. Not threatening. Just… noting.
Eryx looked away first.
“My claim holds,” Northern said simply. “Prepare your walls. Train your soldiers. Strengthen what can be strengthened.” He paused, and something shifted in his voice, dropping lower, quieter, the kind of quiet that filled rooms. “But when the Empire comes, I will be the one standing in front of them. Same as before.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“The only difference is that this time, they’ll know what they’re walking into. But that doesn’t matter much… I am full of surprises.”
The room was silent. Not the fearful silence from before the war, where men had been too defeated to speak. This was different. Something that teetered between belief and terror.
Prince Rieran broke it by leaning back in his chair and exhaling through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Close.
“I think,” the prince said, “that the Empire is going to regret waking up this morning.”
A few of the younger nobles smiled. Even Duke Sethran’s expression shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been amusement.
Lord Eryx said nothing. His fingers remained laced together, his posture poised, his expression composed. But his knuckles were white.
And across the room, the Gentleman of Ash and Flame was smiling. That small, private, knowing smile that suggested he was hearing things no one else in the room could hear.
Things about Northern’s soul that were far more interesting than any military strategy.
