Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 114

Chapter 114: Departing for war Chapter 114: Departing for war Alpheo strode through the gates of the city, the rough cobblestones under his boots giving way to the dusty expanse of the training yard just outside the walls.

The clang of steel and the grunts of men filled the air, as soldiers drilled relentlessly under the midday sun.

His eyes scanned the field, lingering on the formations of infantry and mounted men.

At the far end, Alpheo spotted Jarza, overseeing a group of officers instructing the recruits.

Jarza stood with his arms crossed, his expression stern as he observed the men clumsily trying to mimic the precise movements of the more seasoned fighters.

As Alpheo approached, Jarza shifted his stance slightly but didn’t look up until Alpheo was beside him.

“How do things look?” Alpheo asked, his tone low but curious, eyeing the chaos of the yard as weapons swung in poorly coordinated arcs.

Jarza let out a slow breath, shaking his head in mild frustration.

“A mess,” he muttered, scratching his beard.

“I’m at a loss with these greens.

Most of them are farmhands , never held a proper weapon before, and now they’re expected to fight with hammers and maces.” He gestured toward a group of men awkwardly swinging heavy hammers, their footwork clumsy and their strikes too wide to be effective.

“These weapons require more technique than they think,” Jarza continued, his voice betraying a hint of irritation.

“They assume it’s just about strength, but with hammers and maces, you need precision and control.

Right now, they’re just flailing.” Alpheo watched a few recruits misstep, nearly colliding with one another.

He frowned, thinking of the time he had.

“How long do you think it’ll take them to become half-decent with those?” Jarza turned to Alpheo, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“Weeks, if we’re lucky.” Alpheo nodded slowly, his mind working through the challenge ahead.

“We don’t have weeks,not even days , in a few hours we will march but we’ll have to make do.

Keep drilling them.

All they have to do is watch the wall after all.They can be drilled as second-rate soldiers for now…

” Jarza wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Alpheo.

“Are you sure it’s safe to leave the city?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“The people here…

who knows about their plans” Alpheo crossed his arms, watching the recruits struggle with their training for a moment before responding.

“I’ll be leaving a garrison of 200 men,” he said confidently.

“150 of my own-those I trust.

The other 50 will come from the population itself, people we’ve recruited over the past weeks.

They’ll be equipped with the second-hand weapons we’ve scavenged from the battlefield and looted from the prince’s armories.

They may not be seasoned warriors, but they’ll hold the walls if need be.

Laedio shall be the one to command the garrison, I left him some instructions to follow, I trust him to deliver a good job” Jarza raised an eyebrow, doubt flickering across his face.

“Recruits from the population?

You trust them with the defense of the city?” Alpheo gave a small shrug.

“As long as we are the one getting them their due coins, they will be loyal to us. And besides, they’ll have enough veterans with them to keep them in line.

I’ve made sure that those veterans will know what to do if anyone gets any ideas about rebellion while we’re gone.” Jarza nodded slowly, though his concern didn’t entirely fade.

“And with how many are we going to march?” Alpheo turned his gaze back toward the training yard, his mind quickly calculating.

“We’ll take the bulk of the force.

Around 500 men alongside 200 from my dear grandfather-in-law.” Jarza frowned.

“That’s cutting it close, Alpheo.

If anything goes wrong, we’ll be stretched thin.” Alpheo met his lieutenant’s gaze, his expression unwavering.

“All the things we did to reach this place was nothing short of a bet, what is the use of getting cold feet right now?We have nothing to lose and everything to gain, it is just one more bet.” —— Hours had passed since the army had gathered just outside the city walls.

The sun hung high on the horizon,.

Men stood ready in their ranks, armored and prepared for the march.

Alpheo, dressed in his freshly polished armor, stood near the front of the formation, his trusted squire, Ratto, by his side.

Jasmine approached him, her gown trailing behind her as she walked with an air of quiet grace.

The soldiers cheered as she drew closer, Alpheo glanced up, already feeling the tension of the moment.

He wasn’t one for sentimental farewells, but something about this one felt different.

She stopped before him, her gaze steady as she reached into the folds of her sleeve and pulled out a single red rose.

Without a word, she extended it toward him.

Alpheo blinked, surprised, his gloved hand hovering awkwardly in the air for a moment before he took the delicate flower.

The cheers went higher “Good luck, Alpheo,” she said softly, her voice carrying just enough warmth to make the moment feel more personal than he expected.

“May this bring you back victorious.” He stared at the rose for a moment, unsure how to respond.

It was an odd gesture, one that left him feeling slightly off-balance.

Roses were not typically his thing, he was more accustomed to the weight of steel in his hand than the softness of petals.

“I… uh, thanks,” he mumbled, fumbling with the flower before carefully tucking it into his belt.

The awkwardness of it made Ratto snort quietly beside him, though the squire was wise enough not to say anything.

As Alpheo rode toward the front of his army, the steady rhythm of his horse’s hooves echoed in the air, mingling with the clatter of armor and murmured conversations among the soldiers.

The weight of the rose tucked into his belt still felt oddly out of place, a small reminder of the farewell he’d just had, toward the one he still did not understand if he had to regard as friend or foe.

Ahead, the banners of Shahab Filastin fluttered in the breeze, his contingent of men already lined up and prepared for the march.

Alpheo spotted the lord himself, donned in gleaming armor, the metal polished to perfection.

Shahab’s weathered face, stern and battle-hardened, softened into a rare smile as Alpheo approached.

“Ah, there you are…” Shahab called out, his voice carrying over the sound of the troops.

His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his armor catching the fading sunlight.

“We shall see what paste you’re made of.

All your talk-let’s see if it holds up in the heat of battle.” Alpheo raised an eyebrow, his expression remaining relaxed as he slowed his horse beside Shahab.

“Paste?

Well, I hope I’m not made of the same stuff that held this princedom’s army together, else the battle will be quite short, quite the sorry state indeed…” Shahab groaned a deep, throaty sound, though his eyes remained sharp.

“Confidence is one thing, boy.

Skill is another.Most of your age are more brave than wise ” Alpheo leaned forward slightly in his saddle, his voice dropping just enough for only Shahab to hear.

“We both know it’s not confidence or skill that’ll win this day, my lord.

It’s having the right men in the right place.

And fortunately for us,” he added, flashing a quick grin, “that’s my specialty…” Alpheo rode deeper into the column, weaving through the thick mass of soldiers as they formed into marching order.

The rhythmic clinking of chainmail, the thudding of boots, and the occasional snort of a horse filled the air.

The men, some seasoned veterans, others fresh recruits, looked up as he passed.  The smell of the earth, damp from the night’s dew, mingled with the scent of leather, sweat, and steel.

Ahead, Jarza stood with Clio , Asag and Egil, directing the final movements of the column, his face a mask of focus.

Alpheo caught his eye and gave a slight nod.

His horse moved at a steady pace, its powerful legs crunching the ground beneath, and the men parted for him, creating a narrow path through the tightly packed ranks.

Every face he passed seemed to be waiting for his word, the order that would set their march in motion.  Finally, Alpheo reached the front of the column, his position now centered among the cavalry and officers.

The field ahead stretched out toward the horizon, where the distant hills marked the edge of their path.  He straightened in his saddle, turning to face his army, his voice cutting through the noise of the morning.

“Men,” he called out, his voice clear and commanding.

“The time has come.

We’ve rested long enough.

Ahead lies our path, and soon, our victory.

Stay sharp and stand together.

” A murmur spread through the ranks, some soldiers exchanging glances, others adjusting their armor or gripping their weapons tighter.

Alpheo raised his hand, holding it high for a brief moment before dropping it in a swift, decisive motion.

“March!” he ordered.

The command rippled through the column, officers echoing his word.

The sound of boots hitting the ground became a unified beat as the army began its forward movement.

Horses snorted, hooves clattered and banners waved proudly in the morning breeze.

Alpheo stayed near the front, his mind already on the battle to come and his lucky star always watching over him.