The room did not react immediately. It just stopped.
The murmurs died halfway through breath. A chair creaked somewhere in the back, then even that sound faded into nothing. Every eye in the room was fixed on Maria, but no one spoke. It felt like the word she had dropped was still hanging in the air, heavy, waiting for someone to either believe it or break it apart.
Fabio was the first to move. Not much. Just a slow nod. His fingers, which had been pressed against the edge of the table, relaxed slightly. His shoulders followed, just a fraction. When he spoke, his voice had lost that earlier edge.
"History gave credibility to its potency." He did not rush the words. He let them settle, like he was reminding himself as much as everyone else. His gaze shifted, locking onto Maria.
"But how do we get black water?" A small pause. "No one has said to have used it since Dennis' conquest."
The name carried weight. A few of the older generals exchanged glances, subtle but there. The kind of look that said they knew the stories. Or at least, they thought they did.
"Some were said to be in the palace," Fabio continued, his tone tightening again, "but were never tested."
Silence followed.
Not disbelief this time. Something closer to caution. Maria did not look away. She smiled.
It was not a loud reaction. Not triumphant. Just quiet, controlled, like she already knew how this moment would unfold.
"My ancestor," she said, "Cregan Woodland is the first person to create black water."
The name slipped into the room, unfamiliar to some, but not all. One of the older men near the far wall straightened slightly, his brows drawing together like he was trying to pull a memory forward.
"And the secret," Maria continued, her voice steady, "has been passed to us." That did it. Fabio's expression changed.
It was not subtle. The tension in his face broke, replaced by something sharper. Interest. Real interest. The kind that lights up the eyes before the mouth even reacts.
"You mean," he said, stepping forward slightly, "you can create it?"
Maria nodded once.."I can forge jars within two hours.".The reaction this time was not silence. It was breath.
Sharp, uneven, almost in sync. Someone behind Cedric muttered something under his breath. Another man let out a low whistle before catching himself. Even those who had stayed stiff until now shifted where they stood.
The weight in the room changed. Not gone. Just different. A few hours ago, they had been speaking like men preparing for something they might not survive. Now, there was something else creeping in. Something dangerous.
Hope.
Drexo felt it too. He did not smile. But his shoulders eased, just a little.
The war that had felt like a storm closing in now, it flickered. Just slightly. Like maybe it could be turned.
But Maria did not let the moment breathe for long. She moved her hand back to the table. "However," she said. The word cut through everything.
The small shift of relief. The quiet sparks of confidence. It all paused again, like the room had remembered where it was.
"If this does not crush the whole army," Her finger traced a line across the map. "or they reinforce."
Now the room leaned in again. "then our army must be divided."
Cedric's head lifted immediately. He did not wait. "Why should we divide our army," he asked, his voice firm, "when we will have the advantage to blow out our enemies?"
There was no hostility in his tone. But there was resistance. And it spread.
A few nods. A few tightened expressions. The earlier confidence had not fully settled, and now it wavered again.
Maria looked at him. And then she smiled. It was the same smile.
Calm, and certain. "You do not know Robert and Edmond," she said.
Cedric held her gaze. "I know them very well," Maria continued, "and I know how they think."
That was enough. Cedric did not argue again..He did not agree either. He just stopped.
The room seemed to pick up on that. The quiet challenge dissolved, replaced by attention. Not blind trust. But something close to it.
Maria continued.
Her fingers moved across the map again, slower now, more deliberate. She spoke, and this time, no one interrupted. No one scoffed. No one tried to push back.
They listened. They followed every movement of her hand, every shift in her tone. The plan unfolded piece by piece, not rushed, not dragged. Just steady. Controlled.
Even Fabio did not interrupt. Not once. By the time she finished, the room felt different again.
Not lighter, but sharper.
Like something had been drawn tight and was now ready to snap forward. Fabio lifted his head. For a moment, he just looked at her.
Then he stretched out his hand. "I am glad," he said slowly, "the prince did not listen to me when I suggested you should be killed."
A few men shifted uncomfortably. Others pretended not to hear. Maria did not react. Not even a flicker. She turned. Like the words had not touched her.
Like they did not matter. Fabio stepped after her.."When are you producing the black water?" he asked, his tone different now. Lighter, almost eager. "I would love to send men to help you out."
Maria stopped. Just for a moment. Her back was still facing him. Then she turned slightly, her eyes settling on him.
She did not speak immediately..She studied him. The aging lord stood there, trying to appear casual, but it was all there. In the way his fingers flexed slightly. In the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long.
He did not like her. That had not changed. But this was something else.
Interest. Not in her. In what she carried.
Maria's smile returned. Soft, and Measured. "Do not worry about that, my lord," she said.
A small pause. "I made it last night." The words landed quietly. But they hit harder than anything she had said before.
"Even before I brought up the suggestion." Fabio's expression froze for a fraction of a second.
Just a fraction.
Then it smoothed out again. But it was enough. Enough to see it. The shift. Maria turned fully this time.
And walked away. She did not wait for a response. Did not look back. Her steps were steady, unhurried, as she moved toward the exit.
Behind her, Fabio let out a slow breath. Almost a sigh. "I had thought," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "I would be able to gain the knowledge."
No one answered him. Because there was nothing to say. And because, for the first time since the war began to take shape, it was clear.
Maria was not just part of this battle. She was already ahead of it.