Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 116

Chapter 116: An ambush for a crown(2) Chapter 116: An ambush for a crown(2) Two riders trotted along a narrow trail, their eyes constantly flicking toward the horizon.

Truth be told they were happy with their role as scouts, as it allowed them as much freedom as they could have got while remaining soldiers.

As they rode, the conversation naturally drifted toward their captain.

“You know what?” one of them began, his voice carrying over the gentle clopping of hooves, “I’ll just say it we are lucky to have him as our captain.

He always seems so…

carefree.

Drinks when he wants, laughs with the men, but never seems to actually do anything except riding drills.” The other rider, a bit older, shrugged.

“Aye, I’ve noticed.

They say the commanders of the other units are strict as nails.

Keen on discipline.The black giant?

More fierce than a bull.

But Egil?

He’s always got a smile on his face, barely gives orders outside of training.

Strange for a captain, eh?” The first rider chuckled, shifting in his saddle.

“You know what I heard?

That he’s from one of those migratory tribes out east.

His people were allowed to settle on imperial land some years back.Something happened though and they were enslaved and massacred” “That so?” The other raised an eyebrow.  “They say his tribe worships horses as sacred animals,” the younger man continued, “They treat them like gods.

Apparently, that’s why he’s so…

relaxed about most things, but dead serious when it comes to his mount and riding.” The older rider scratched his chin, thinking back to something he’d seen a while ago.

“Well, that explains a lot.

I remember a time in the city when Egil caught some fool mistreating his pack horse.

He was so furious, he whipped the man in front of everyone, took the horse for himself.

Didn’t even blink, best thing was that the fool was not even a soldier, just a casual poor bastard.” The younger rider snorted.

“Sounds about right.

Guess we ought to be careful how we handle our horses around him, eh?

Man’s got more love for his steed than most of us have for our women.” The two shared a quiet laugh, the sound fading into the evening air as they continued their patrol, glancing again toward the horizon.

The older rider’s laughter trailed off , this time his expression shifting from casual to sharp.

His gaze fixed on a faint, glimmering light far in the distance-something reflecting in the setting sun.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice low and tense.

He pointed ahead, drawing his companion’s attention.

“You see that?

Something’s shining out there.” The younger rider squinted, scanning the distant landscape until he spotted it too.

His face paled slightly, and he nodded, his hand instinctively tightening on the reins.

“I see it.

Could be metal…armor, maybe?” The more time they stared the more the number of things shining increased  Without another word, both men wheeled their horses around, spurring them into a swift gallop.

The peaceful quiet of the woods was replaced by the pounding of hooves as they raced back toward the camp —————–  Ormund’s pov:  The army marched slowly along the winding dirt road, a column of men moving forward. At the front, Ormund Veloni-isha rode alongside his eldest son, his face lined with frustration.

His hand gripped the reins tightly, knuckles white as he glanced back over his shoulder at the sluggish pace of his troops.

Rows of infantry, cavalry, and supply wagons trailed behind him, their movements hindered by the uneven terrain.  “At this rate, we’ll be lucky to reach Yarzat before winter,” Ormund muttered under his breath, his voice tight with impatience.

His son, riding beside him, cast a quick glance at his father but said nothing, knowing better than to speak when his temper flared, he did not really understand what was going on, just that they were marching to the capital , where his father would become prince, and apparently he also was to marry his cousin Jasmine.

He did not remember much about her, just that he got along fine with her during the time they met ..

They had been marching for a full day now, and despite Ormund’s relentless push, the army still had another day’s journey ahead of them to reach the city.

The men were exhausted, the horses sluggish.

But Ormund had no time for rest-he forced his troops to march for more than 12 hours every day, ignoring the grumbling and fatigue.

They could only make camp when the sky grew so dark they could no longer see the road ahead.

 The rumors of the mercenary takeover gnawed at him, and he feared what might have happened to his nephews in the city.

He cursed Arkawatt under his breath for his incompetence and prayed that his family’s bloodline remained intact, as the last thing he wanted was for his son’s wife to have been defiled.

Despite the slow pace of the march and his mounting frustration, Ormund couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he looked back at the men he had gathered.

The column stretched far behind him.

His brother, the late Prince Arkawatt, had struggled to muster even a few hundred soldiers during his rule-barely 300, from what Ormund had heard.

Pathetic, he thought, the memory of his brother’s ineptitude only fueling his self-satisfaction.

Arkawatt, for all his titles and princely status, had failed where Ormund, a mere lord, had succeeded.

And look at me now , riding high towards the crown.

Ormund had gathered a force of 500 men, far outnumbering what his brother had ever been able to command.

Among them were 70 mounted knights, their armor gleaming in the dimming light as they rode with disciplined precision.

It wasn’t just about the numbers-it was about the strength, the organization, and the clear loyalty of these men to him.

He had handpicked many of them, ensuring they were hardened fighters, not some ragtag band of militia, unlike the band behind them, securing the centre and the supply carriages.

As the army moved on, his mind drifted to the task ahead.

He had heard from Robert that the mercenaries occupying the city numbered fewer than 300.

A band of sell-swords, he scoffed to himself.

Rabble more loyal to gold than any banner.

Ormund felt confident, almost arrogantly so.

His force was nearly double the size of the enemy, and with 70 mounted knights leading the charge, he was certain they would make quick work of the mercenaries.

No matter their tricks, no matter how they had managed to seize the city, they would be no match for his army.

The thought of victory filled him with a sense of ease,as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

This will be no hard campaign, he mused as he patted the sheath.

I’ll reclaim Yarzat, avenge my brother, and finally sit on the throne,  just like he was meant to be.  ————– Alpheo crouched low on the ground, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the column of men and horses snaking through the dirt road below.

From his vantage point in the cover of the trees, the sound of hooves thudding against the packed earth and the rhythmic steps of marching boots filled the air, a steady drumbeat of movement that seemed to reverberate through the forest.

His jaw tightened as he watched the line of soldiers, their armor glinting in the faint light, stretching far into the distance.

The column moved sluggishly, forced into a narrow formation by the confines of the road.

The path, no wider than a single carriage, allowed only four men to march side by side at any given time.

It was an inefficient formation, perfect for ambush, and Alpheo silently counted the ranks as they advanced.

He estimated that the tail end of the army was still well behind, hidden beyond a bend in the road.

The column stretched far too long, leaving gaps of exposed flanks vulnerable to any clever opponent.

Alpheo smirked slightly to himself.

They’ve made this easy for me.

He continued to watch, taking note of every detail.

The banners swaying in the light breeze, the knights riding stiffly toward the front, and the slow, steady grind of their movement.

The men looked weary-understandable after such a long march, especially with the slow progress this narrow road allowed.

Four ranks deep… he thought.

They’re strung out thin.

Perfect.

He glanced over his shoulder at the trees surrounding them, dense enough to hide his own forces but not so thick that they couldn’t launch an attack.

The situation was ideal.

The enemy had little room to maneuver, and any sudden strike would throw them into chaos.

His eyes narrowed as he gave a single, sharp nod to the hornblower by his side.

A loud, piercing blast of the horn suddenly cut through the stillness, its echo ricocheting off the trees and startling the marching soldiers below.

The sound seemed to ripple through the forest like a battle cry.

In an instant, the air was alive with the whistling of arrows and the whoosh of javelins.

Dozens of dark projectiles shot up from the cover of the trees, their deadly arcs raining down on the unprotected column below.

The enemy soldiers barely had time to raise their shields before the first wave struck.

Screams and shouts of alarm echoed through the ranks as men fell, pierced by arrows and impaled by javelins.

Horses reared in panic, their riders desperately trying to control them as the first signs of chaos spread like wildfire.

Before the enemy could even process what was happening, Alpheo’s infantry surged out of the forest from both sides.

Like a tide crashing against the shore, hundreds of men charged down the slopes, weapons raised, their boots pounding against the earth.

The ambush had been sprung.

The soldiers in the road, caught between the dense forest on either side, had nowhere to escape.

Swords clanged, shields clashed, and the once-ordered column of men was now a scattered, panicked mess.

Alpheo’s men struck hard, taking full advantage of the confusion, cutting through the disorganized ranks with brutal efficiency.

Above it all, the sounds of horns and battle cries filled the air, drowning out any attempts at order from the enemy commanders.

Alpheo stood tall, a grim smile playing on his lips as the battle unfolded exactly as he had planned.