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Chapter 34 - Chapter 32: Silence

The war room of Bel'zhun's garrison had witnessed countless campaigns, but tonight, it was not a place of strategic planning—it was a battlefield of ideology and power.

The black-stone walls, adorned with crimson banners of Noxus, loomed high, casting long shadows over the room's occupants. At the center, a massive stone table bore the weight of maps, tactical reports, and supply documents—the instruments of control over Bel'zhun and the surrounding Shuriman territories.

The gathered officers and commanders stood in tense silence.

Then, the iron doors opened.

General Dorrik entered.

His armored boots struck heavy steps against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the chamber. The murmurs ceased.

At his side, Lieutenant Gadriel moved like a shadow. He did not speak. He only observed.

Without a word, Dorrik unfurled a sealed parchment onto the table.

His eyes swept the room. Then he spoke.

"A messenger Raven has arrived." His voice was unreadable.

Then came the words that changed everything.

"From General Ambessa Medarda."

The officers stiffened.

A name that did not belong here. A name that carried weight, power, and dangerous implications.

The war council had begun.

---

Captain Luthen, a hardened loyalist to Dorrik, was the first to scoff.

"Medarda?" He leaned back with a smirk. "I hear House Medarda are glorified merchants Nowadays . What's she going to do, buy our loyalty?"

A few officers chuckled—but the smarter ones didn't.

Across the table, Commander Vargan, a veteran of imperial conquests, shook his head.

"Underestimating General Ambessa is a mistake."

Luthor's amusement faded.

Vargan placed a calloused finger on the map, pressing down.

"She doesn't need an army. She doesn't need permission. If she wants control over Bel'zhun, she won't come marching in with banners—she'll make herself indispensable."

Jorelle, a sharp-eyed strategist, nodded.

"Her pretext is trade."

Dorrik's gaze hardened.

"Explain."

Jorelle tapped the map, her tone measured, precise.

"Bel'zhun isn't just a military stronghold. It's a trade hub. The sand routes funnel Shuriman goods, the port connects us to Piltover's markets, and the desert feeds Noxian war machines with its resources." She let that sink in.

"If Medarda wants influence here, she doesn't need to conquer us—she just has to make Noxus need her."

Dorrik's fingers tightened on the table.

"Medarda does not act alone. If she's making a move, she has backing."

Jorelle nodded.

"House Medarda is deeply connected. She has ties to Piltover, and certain noble houses within Noxus itself. If she's coming here, she isn't just acting on ambition—she has allies in the capital."

The room shifted uneasily.

Darkwill's remnants still lingered. The Du Couteaus were silent. Swain's rule was still fresh.

A move like this wasn't just about Bel'zhun.

It was about the Empire itself.

Then, an unexpected voice spoke.

Major Kael, one of the younger officers, hesitated before speaking.

"Could this have something to do with that Piltover delegation that arrived a few days ago?" He looked around the table. "We know Piltover's invested in Hextech. If Medarda's making a move, maybe it's not just about trade—maybe she's here for something... bigger."

For a moment, no one responded.

Then, Luthen scoffed.

"You think Ambessa came all the way to a war garrison for some Piltover trinkets?" He shook his head. "She's not interested in toys, Kael. She's a warlord. She wants control, not Hextech baubles."

A few officers murmured in agreement.

Kael frowned but said nothing further.

For now, the idea was dismissed.

But not forgotten.

Dorrik's voice cut through the room like a blade.

"This is my city."

A beat of silence.

"I secured it. I crushed the rebellion when it first began, and I have held this garrison against everything thrown at it."

His gaze hardened, sweeping across the room.

**"No one—**not Ambessa, not her merchants, not the rebels—will take Bel'zhun from me."

A few officers nodded—those who had profited under his rule.

But others—those loyal to Noxus itself—remained silent.

Commander Vargan folded his arms.

"If we move against her, we must do it carefully. She has economic power, and if certain noble houses are supporting her, then the Grand General himself may tolerate her presence."

Luthen scowled.

"Noxus doesn't negotiate."

Jorelle smirked.

"Then why is Swain building a new empire on strategy rather than brute force?"

Luthor's jaw clenched.

Dorrik stepped back from the table.

"This changes nothing."

His voice carried the finality of an executioner's axe.

"We will handle Ambessa when she arrives. But let me make one thing clear."

His gaze swept the room.

"This city is mine. And it will remain that way."

-----------

The war council dispersed, officers leaving in quiet conversation or silent contemplation.

But as Su turned to exit, a voice stopped him.

"Stay."

He turned. Dorrik was watching him.

The room emptied, leaving just the general and his junior officer.

Dorrik's eyes narrowed.

"I couldn't help but notice your silence on this meeting." His voice was calm—but beneath it was an edge.

Su remained impassive. "I was listening."

Dorrik studied him for a long moment.

"You've led men into battle. You've seen war. And yet, you had nothing to say."

Su met his gaze evenly.

"I speak when I have something worth saying."

Silence.

Then—Dorrik let out a small, humorless chuckle.

"So it seems." He turned away, pacing toward the window. "Remember this, Su'Rhaal—silence can be mistaken for weakness. And in Noxus, weakness is fatal."

Su said nothing.

He simply watched.

Waiting.