The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the grand courtyard of the Byzeth castle. The table, adorned with goblets and parchment, stretched out before Aric as he sat calmly at one end, directly across from King Aszer.
The council members, eleven in total, flanked both sides of the table, their eyes sharp and their postures tense. Suspicion hung thick in the air, with some of them barely concealing their disdain.
They discreetly released and flared ki and mana, all in an attempt to intimidate the prince and make him falter. Though Aric did not show it, the gesture affected him.
The king himself watched Aric closely, intrigued but unreadable, waiting to see how the prince would play his next move.
A man seated closest to the king—a thin, sharp-featured lord dressed in deep purple robes—spoke first, his voice laced with contempt.
"Your Grace, forgive my boldness, but how can we cohort with a Valerian prince to aid in a rebellion against his own empire? Surely this reeks of deception."
Murmurs of agreement swept through the council. A count with a thick beard and an elaborate coat nodded aggressively. "He claims to offer help, but it’s far more likely he’s a spy—someone sent to sabotage us from within."
Aric leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. His eyes scanned the table, taking in the ripples of tension the accusations caused. Then, he smiled—a calm, measured smile that only thickened the unease.
"If I were a spy, I assure you, you’d already be dead," Aric said smoothly, his words causing several of the council members to stiffen.
"Why waste time entertaining plans and meetings? As I said before, I could have delivered every piece of your strategy to the emperor the moment I confirmed your plans."
A silence fell over the courtyard, pressing with the weight of the prince’s words. The thin lord in purple seemed about to respond, but Aric spoke again, cutting him off.
"But let’s be honest. I’m not here to prove my trustworthiness. I’m here because I offer something far more valuable than empty promises or words of loyalty." Aric’s eyes sharpened as he leaned forward slightly, drawing the attention of everyone present. "I offer victory. And that’s something no one at this table has been able to guarantee. Not even King Aszer."
The king raised an eyebrow, still intrigued but now keenly listening.
Aric continued, shifting his gaze to the bearded count who had spoken earlier.
"You doubt me because of my blood, but bloodlines don’t win wars. Strategy does. And as for trust..." Aric leaned back again, his tone casual yet confident. "You needn’t trust me. What you need is results. And I know how to get them."
The bearded count scowled but remained silent.
Aric’s eyes gleamed as he turned his attention to the rest of the council. "Let’s talk about the Northrenders. They are warriors—savages bred in the cold with a thirst for blood and victory. They won’t fight for just anyone. They respect power, cunning, and strength of will. They’ve already aligned with you as business partners, but you’ve only scratched the surface of what they can offer."
The thin lord, trying once more to discredit Aric, scoffed. "What more can you possibly offer them, prince? You speak as though you know their hearts, yet you’ve never even met their chieftains."
Aric’s smile widened, his voice cold yet brimming with certainty. "Because I understand their nature better than you ever could. You’ve played the diplomat with them, negotiated trade and alliances. But the Northrenders don’t want words. They want blood. They want conquest. They want an empire not content to sit behind walls and negotiate deals, but one that takes, crushes, and burns. They want to fight beside someone unafraid to wage war as they do."
The king, intrigued, leaned forward slightly. "And you believe you can give them this?"
"I know I can," Aric answered without hesitation. "Your current plan is solid—on paper. But the Northrenders will only follow you so far if they believe you’re simply another weak king, playing at rebellion while sitting safely behind stone walls. They need to see action. We must give them targets, raids, villages to burn. The Valerian Empire fears the men of winter because they don’t play by the rules of civilized warfare. It’s time to show the Northrenders that you’re more than just another southern king. You are their equal. No—more. Their blade."
A murmur rippled through the council, some nodding, others doubtful. But Aric pressed on, his voice rising with confidence.
"Start small. Send them into Valerian territory, hit outlying forts, border towns, maybe neighboring outskirts—places that won’t raise alarm but will send a message to the Northrenders that this rebellion is worth fighting for. I can provide intelligence—targets the empire won’t expect. And when the time comes, we don’t wait for them to come to us. We take the fight to Valeria... because then the Northrenders are not fighting for weaklings who hide behind their power, but alongside a conqueror just as blood-hungry as they are."
The room grew silent as Aric finished, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.
The bearded count, still unconvinced, narrowed his eyes. "And what would your role be in all of this, Prince? You lie on your sickbed while we work? What use is a weak and sickly prince to such a brutal plan of battle and war?"
Aric looked at him with a cool, predatory gaze.
"No need to display your foolishness, count. I’m already well aware of it."
"You dare?!" The count shot up from his seat, ki flaring.
The king raised his hand, stopping the count, signaling him to let the prince speak.
"Strong men win battles, smart men win wars. I will be the one guiding your strategy. I have knowledge of the empire and every kingdom within it that none of you can match—so much so I knew your entire plan. I know the empire’s weaknesses. I know how to exploit them. And more importantly, I have nothing to lose. The Forgotten Prince is dead to Valeria. But here, in Byzeth? I am an instrument of grander chaos."
The king exchanged glances with several council members, his intrigue now tempered with calculation. Finally, he nodded slowly, his gaze locking with Aric’s.
"You speak well, prince. But talk is cheap. Show me results, and then we will see where our partnership leads."
Aric grinned, knowing he had won the first round of his deadly game. "I’ll have your first target soon."
Use Rejuvenation boost.
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Aric smiled, his hand gripping the seat handles as he prepared to stand. "Also, the next time the lot of you try to intimidate me with such a pathetic display of ki..."
As the prince spoke, the council members’ eyes widened, the hair on their arms standing erect. They felt something. It wasn’t mana nor ki—it was, simply... destruction. Orıginal content can be found at 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮·𝙣𝙚𝙩
"... I will damn the consequences," the prince finished, standing as the chair beneath him turned black and crumbled to ash.
"Have a good rest of your day," the prince said, turning and exiting the courtyard.