Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 115

Chapter 115: An ambush for a crown(1) Chapter 115: An ambush for a crown(1) Two days had passed, and the army finally ground to a halt.

The men set up their makeshift camp near the edge of a sparse forest.

Alpheo stood at the edge of the road, his gaze sweeping over the landscape, his lips pressed into a thin line.

His face looked as though he had just bitten into a sour lemon, his usual confident demeanor clouded with dissatisfaction.

Clio, ever perceptive, approached him from the side, brow furrowed slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, tilting his head, his voice calm yet curious.

Alpheo exhaled through his nose, his eyes narrowing at the thin forest line.

“I was hoping for the forest to be a bit higher from the road.

And…

well, more filled with trees,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of frustration as he gestured toward the scattered trees barely providing cover or strategic advantage.

Never trust a map given to you…,he thought as he exhaled The forest was thin, far too open for his liking, they would have to be deeper in it and the road ran a bit too far to it, making any ambush plans feel half-baked.It would still work just not as effective as he had hoped.

Shahab, who had been nearby, overheard the exchange.

He walked up to them, his armor clinking softly.

“And I suppose you also wanted Ormund to kneel and bend his neck for you while you’re at it?” he quipped, his voice carrying sarcasm as he stopped beside Alpheo, his arms crossed.

Alpheo turned his head toward Shahab, regarding him with a momentary glance before shrugging nonchalantly.

“It would certainly make my job easier,” he said dryly, his tone flat but carrying a smirk beneath it.

“But…

it will have to do.” He turned his attention back to the forest, mentally adjusting his plan.

The terrain wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t like he’d ever been dealt perfect cards before.

Alpheo turned sharply to Jarza, who was standing a few paces behind, ready for orders.

“Spread four hundred of the men , make it so they are six deep in rank” he instructed, his tone firm and decisive.

“Make sure they’re well-hidden along the forest line-little noise, little movement as we wait” Jarza nodded, his weathered face showing no emotion as he began barking orders to the nearby officers, who quickly moved to relay the command.

Alpheo then turned his gaze to Shahab, the older lord standing stoically in his shining armor.

“And you, my lord” Alpheo said, gesturing to the opposite side of the road.

“How about you take the other side of the forest, on the far bank of the road?

You shall attack from the other side .” Shahab said nothing at first.

He simply raised his hand, signaling his men to follow him, and began marching toward the designated position without a word.

His soldiers fell in behind him, heavy footsteps crunching over the dry leaves and dirt.

Alpheo watched Shahab go, snorting through his nose.

“Always so chatty, that one,” he muttered under his breath before turning to Clio, who had been watching Alpheo waiting for his turn .

“Take a hundred men and follow Shahab,” Alpheo ordered, his eyes locking with Clio’s.

“Keep an eye on him.When he attacks you follow” Clio gave a curt nod, his expression serious.

“On it,” he said, before turning on his heel and heading off to gather her troops.

Alpheo observed as his orders were executed with precision.

Jarza’s men moved swiftly into their assigned positions, disappearing into the underbrush with practiced ease.

Shahab and his troops marched to the far side of the forest, their armor glinting in the waning light.

Clio and his hundred men followed closely behind, ensuring that Shahab’s movements were monitored.

The sight of his subordinates working efficiently, carrying out his commands without hesitation, gave Alpheo a sense of satisfaction.With the positions secured, he turned his attention to Egil, who had been standing nearby, waiting for a signal.

“Egil,” Alpheo began, his tone brooking no argument, “send out scouts immediately.

I want them to cover anything shiny-any reflective surfaces or armor.

They need to blend into the environment as much as possible, don’t want their armor or weapons reflecting the light and giving them away .

Their primary task is to watch for the enemy.

The road leading to the city is the only viable route for them.

I need to know every movement they make.” Egil nodded, his face a mask of concentration.

“Understood, sir.

I’ll make sure the scouts are briefed and deployed immediately.” “Good,” Alpheo replied, his gaze firm.

“And once they’re out, take your position at the far back of our formation.

When the ambush is triggered, I want you to maneuver around and strike at their vanguard.

I want the vanguard surrounded by all sides .” Egil gave a sharp nod, acknowledging the plan.

“I’ll be ready.” Alpheo watched as Egil moved off to carry out the order before allowing himself to finally settle down.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

The uncertainty gnawed at him.

He didn’t know if Ormund’s army was close or if they had even departed at all.

ù Jasmine had no spies embedded in the enemy’s camp, leaving Alpheo with nothing but speculation.

His entire strategy hinged on predicting the moves of an opponent he had never met, based on battlefield logic alone and the words of men describing someone he did not know.

To prepare for the long wait, he had made sure his men carried provisions sufficient for a week.

Every soldier had been given strict instructions-no fires during the day, as even the faintest wisp of smoke could betray their position from miles away.

He wasn’t even convinced it was safe to light fires at night.

With caution being paramount, Alpheo personally selected the rations: smoked meats, hard bread, dried fruits and vegetables-anything that could last without spoiling for several days of tension-filled waiting.

The plan was self-contained.

If they ran low on supplies, there were a few scattered villages nearby.

In the worst case, they could send riders to purchase more food, but Alpheo was wary of drawing attention.

He preferred not to make any hasty moves that might reveal their position.

Every decision had to be deliberate, calculated, and silent.

For now, they would wait-and hope that the enemy moved according to his expectations.

Alpheo let out a heavy sigh as he wandered deeper into the forest, eventually finding a sturdy tree to lean against.

Now came the part he hated most-waiting.

Patience had never been his strong suit.

The stillness, the inactivity, gnawed at him.

He wasn’t built for idleness, and boredom had always been his enemy.

With nothing to occupy his mind, his thoughts began to drift, so he turned his gaze toward his young squire, Ratto.

Misunderstanding the look from his master, Ratto quickly reached for the flask of wine and poured a cup, offering it with the kind of speed that only came from being eager to please.

Alpheo accepted the drink but took the moment to redirect the conversation.

“Have you been keeping up with your studies, boy?” Alpheo asked, taking a slow sip of wine.

Since solidifying his deal with Princess Jasmine, he had taken an unusual interest in the boy’s education, making sure the squire had proper instruction, not just in arms, but in letters and numbers too.

Ratto looked surprised at the sudden question, but answered quickly, “Yes, sir.” “For how long each day?” Alpheo inquired, raising a brow.

“Two hours every day,” the young squire replied Alpheo couldn’t help but chuckle.

A damn child is more diligent than a grown man, he mused, the image of Egil flashing in his mind-always clever and witty but sometimes too carefree in his duties.

“Mayhaps the others could learn from your diligence,” Alpheo said aloud with a smirk.

The compliment caused Ratto to blush, his cheeks tinged with red as he glanced at the ground.

Once the flush faded from his face, he hesitated a moment before staring up at Alpheo with curious eyes.

“When you marry Princess Jasmine…

will you become a prince?” Alpheo paused for a moment, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He swirled the wine in his cup before answering, “Prince consort,” he corrected, emphasizing the distinction.

“A princess has no power without her prince, and so it is with the prince consort-at least, lawfully it would be so.” Ratto tilted his head, confusion clear on his youthful face.

“Lawfully, sir?” Alpheo’s smile widened as he gazed down at the boy.

“Yes, lawfully.

But power doesn’t always follow the law.

It’s a game, and it depends on many factors…

Titles, laws-they mean little if you don’t know how to wield the power behind them or how to maintain them.

Tell me, Ratto, is a man king only because of the crown he wears on his head?” Ratto, still innocent in his understanding of the world, nodded eagerly.

“Yes, sir.

The crown makes him king.” Alpheo shook his head slowly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“No, lad.

It’s not the crown that makes him king.

It’s the men under him-the ones who wear swords and shields-that make him king.

A crown without an army behind it?

That man won’t be king for long.

But a man without a crown, yet with an army?

He may very well become one.Power in an astract thing, and yet it can move mountains and dry rivers.Isn’t that a funny thing?” Ratto blinked, taken aback.

“But…

isn’t it blood that decides who should be king?” Alpheo chuckled, sipping from his cup before continuing.

“Blood, laws, titles-they’re all things kings invented to make the path to power seem clearer, less contested.

But it’s just an illusion.

These rules, these traditions, they make people think twice before challenging authority.

They give a sense of legitimacy.

But in truth, it’s all just a pretty cloak to cover the steel underneath.

The moment a man loses his army, he loses his power, no matter what crown sits on his head.

And a man with an army, well…

he can carve out his own crown, no matter what blood runs in his veins.Laws are made by men, and can be changed by them.Titles are created and handed to men, they may be destroyed or taken away .Life is chaos, it is everything and nothing at the same time.

Some men shy away from it; others try to make use of that for their own agenda.

But at the end of the day every man fears what he cannot see nor comprehend.” Ratto looked down, processing the weight of Alpheo’s words.

His young mind struggling to reconcile with the mind of a man shaped by two worlds.