Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 128

Chapter 128: A prince ransom(2) Chapter 128: A prince ransom(2) Alpheo leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a faint smile.

“Unfortunately, Sir Marwoit,” he said in a casual tone, “that arrangement may not be possible.

The princess is already betrothed.” The knight’s brow shot up in surprise, his shock clear.

“Betrothed?” he repeated, his voice cracking a bit “My apologies, I had no knowledge of such an arrangement.

Still,” he continued, regaining his composure, “I believe Prince Sorza would make a far more fitting match for her-better than any ordinary lord serving your grace , I’d say.” His tone held a subtle challenge, clearly attempting to steer the conversation in his favor.

Alpheo, unfazed, chuckled softly.

“Ah, but you’re talking to the man right now.” He gestured casually toward himself, his voice carrying a smooth confidence that immediately baffled the men The knight blinked, his expression shifting to one of utter confusion.

He glanced between Jasmine and Alpheo, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to reconcile the words he had just heard.

“How…” Marwoit finally sputtered, his voice thick with disbelief.

“How could a royal…

mingle with such common rabble?” Sir Marwoit, still clearly rattled by the revelation, leaned forward, trying to regain his composure.

“Your Highness,” he said, turning his focus entirely on Jasmine, “I urge you to reconsider.

A union with Prince Sorza would elevate both our princedoms.

You would have a royal by your side, not some-” But before he could finish, Lord Shahab finally had enough.

He slammed his hand down on the table, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

“Enough!” Shahab’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension like a blade.

His eyes, sharp and unforgiving, fixed on Sir Marwoit.

“Do not dishonor the betrothed of my liege with such reckless words.

This matter is settled!” The room fell into a stunned silence.

Sir Marwoit, swallowed his retort, finally shutting his mouth.

He glanced at Jasmine, who looked relieved that the confrontation had been diffused, and then at Alpheo, whose expression remained impassive but with a flicker of triumph behind his eyes.

Alpheo turned his gaze toward Shahab, the slightest hint of surprise flickering across his face.

Shahab, noticing the look, shrugged slightly.

“I dislike you” he said bluntly, his tone steady.

“But I respect your skills.”  ‘Also the whole city is surrounded by his soldiers, so this whole thing can only go his way’ , he reasoned as he made the choice Alpheo leaned forward slightly, a calm but firm look on his face.

“Now that the marriage proposal is out of the window,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge of finality, “perhaps we should return to the matter of payment.

One of the cities we conquered in a previous campaign could be brought back into the fold.

It would lessen the burden of the ransom.” Sir Marwoit bristled at the suggestion, his face tightening in displeasure.

“We will not give up one of our cities so easily,” he said, his tone cold, “But we could be able to give back the city of Saracende however.

For that we expect the ransom to be set at no more than 20,000 silverii.” Lord Shahab immediately raised a hand, shaking his head with a shrewd smile.

“twenty thousand is far too little.

For the return of Saracende, the ransom will be 35,000 silverii,” he stated firmly.

“And we want it in a lump sum-at least half in aureii, the rest in silverii.

That’s non-negotiable.” Sir Marwoit clenched his jaw, clearly displeased but aware that he was losing ground.

He shot a quick glance at Jasmine, who remained silent but resolute, and then to Alpheo, whose confident gaze remained fixed on him.

The knight sighed, knowing they had little leverage to play with “Very well,” he said reluctantly, his voice taut.

Shahab leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms , his gaze shifting toward Sir Marwoit.

“I think now would be the proper time to consider our other prisoners,” he began, his tone more businesslike but still sharp.

“We are prepared to free the forty knights we hold in our custody for a sum of 600 silverii.” The room fell into a brief silence as Sir Marwoit considered the offer.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the armrest of his chair.

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he nodded.

“Very well,” Sir Marwoit finally agreed,finally liberated at having finally finished “600 silverii for the knights.

It will be done.” Sir Marwoit rose from his seat, his face composed but his eyes betraying a hint of bitterness.

He bowed to Princess Jasmine, his movements stiff but respectful.

“Your Highness,” he said, “I am glad we were able to reach an agreement.” Princess Jasmine smiled, inclining her head gracefully.

“As am I” Though Marwoit returned her words with a nod, he couldn’t shake the bitterness that gnawed at him.  Without another word, he turned, his cloak sweeping behind him as he moved toward the door.

——- As the door closed behind Sir Marwoit and his guards, the room fell into a brief silence.

Shahab, still seated, turned slowly toward Alpheo with a heavy sigh.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the mercenary.

“You should learn to hold your tongue, Alpheo,” Shahab said, his voice calm but carrying a subtle note of reproach.

Alpheo’s ever-present smile faded, his expression hardening as he leaned forward.

“And how many wars have we fought with them in the last decade?” he asked, his tone sharp, though he kept his voice low.

Shahab refrained from answering, knowing full well the answer Alpheo was seeking.

Instead, he clenched his jaw slightly, his silence speaking volumes.

Alpheo, not letting the silence linger for long, leaned back and crossed his arms.

“There’s no use sweetening the drink of the enemy while they piss in yours,” he said coldly, his eyes flashing with conviction.

“They’ve bled us, disrespected us, and now we’re supposed to handle them with gloves?Let your friends cheer and your enemy weep.” hahab’s gaze lingered on Alpheo, tension still hanging thick in the air.

“This is diplomacy,” he repeated, his tone measured yet firm.

“Not the battlefield.

There are times when restraint is more powerful than a sword.” Alpheo’s eyes darkened, his voice growing harder.

“Unfortunately, your sharpest sword knows only how to cut, not how to sing,” he retorted, leaning slightly forward.

“If you think I disrespected them once, they’ve done it thrice to me.

Their sneers, their insults… Do you think they’re playing by the rules of diplomacy?

Let them groan at my words, Shahab.

The truce is made, but when the time comes, it will be shattered.

And when it breaks, no amount of soft words will stop the storm that follows.” He paused for a moment, locking eyes with Shahab, his expression unyielding.

“They will come for us again,” Alpheo continued, his tone lower but no less intense.

“This time, we have two years to prepare.

We should make the most of it ” Alpheo let out a breath, the tension finally releasing from his posture as he turned to Jasmine.

“With this,” he said, a small, confident smile forming on his lips, “we’ve secured your first victory as Princess, a victory that will surely raise her standing among the nobles.

Not only that, but we’ve resolved some of our most pressing financial matters.” He stood straighter now, a certain pride in his voice.

“The ransom will ease our coffers, and the truce-however temporary-gives us the breathing room we need to rebuild and strengthen.

We should cheer to that” he said as he grabbed a cup soon filled by a servant, who quickly followed with the other two Princess Jasmine sipped quietly from her cup, her eyes distant in thought.

Shahab, ever perceptive, broke the silence.

“Have we received any word from Ormund’s wife regarding the royal order?” Jasmine shook her head, a faint frown tugging at her lips.

“Not a word.

It’s likely there will be war.

She won’t just sit idly after her husband’s death.” The weight of the unspoken tension filled the room.

“We should have acted sooner,” she murmured, almost to herself, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

Alpheo, noticing her unease, stepped closer and spoke with a reassuring tone.

“It’s best this way.

If we had rushed, we might have won at a great cost .

As it stands, we still have ways to fight-ways that don’t involve swords.” Jasmine looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“And how would that be ?” Alpheo smiled, his voice steady and confident.

“We’ve captured many of the sworn minor lords loyal to the late Lord Ormund.

With them in our grasp, isolating his widow from any potential allies will be much easier.

Once she’s alone, without any noble support to rally her, our campaign against her will be far more manageable.

We weaken her before we ever raise a blade.” Jasmine paused for a moment, her fingers still resting on the edge of her cup.

Her eyes flickered between Alpheo and Shahab, both standing before her with the weight of decisions to be made.  After a deep breath, she slowly nodded, her gaze steady but distant.

“I trust both of you,” she said softly, her voice calm yet decisive.

“I am not knowledgeable of the way of war.

Do what you think is necessary.

I give you a blank way to handle this as you see fit.” Shahab gave her a respectful nod, his sharp eyes catching hers in acknowledgment.

Alpheo, standing beside him, met Jasmine’s gaze, his expression appreciative.