Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: Coronation(1) Chapter 134: Coronation(1) The day of the coronation had finally arrived.

In the weeks leading up to it, the realm had been thrown into chaos, its once-relatively-stable order now shattered beyond recognition.

Nobles found themselves entangled in a whirlwind of events so baffling and swift, few could make sense of what was happening.

First came the shock of their prince’s death.

Rumors spread like wildfire-killed in an engagement with the very mercenaries he had hired.

Some claimed it was a betrayal, others said that the prince was the one that ordered for the head of the commander in a fit of madness.

But before the nobles could process this, news arrived of his daughter, Jasmine, seizing control of the throne.

To their astonishment, she not only pardoned the mercenary captain responsible for the prince’s death but re-hired him into her service.

Lord Ormund, one of the realm’s most powerful nobles, had rallied his forces, perhaps in outrage, perhaps to seize the throne for himself.

Yet, he and his son were cut down in an ambush before their intentions could be fully understood.

The princess declared them traitors, accusing Ormund of attempting to usurp her rightful rule, a claim met with murmurs but mostly believed as everyone knew of the bad blood between Ormund and Arkawatt.

And at the top of it , an order came from the capital, summoning all nobles to swear allegiance to the new princess.So in a month the status quo built upon one decade and half of rule , came short all from the arrival of one man.

Had the civil war not been swiftly cut short, many lords would have likely declared neutrality or remained on the sidelines, waiting for the most advantageous offer before choosing a side.

 In such times, loyalty often went to the highest bidder, and alliances were as fragile as the promises that forged them.

But the war had ended as abruptly as it began, and with only one true contender for the throne left standing-Princess Jasmine-there was little incentive for the lords to continue hesitating.

What many thought might drag on into a prolonged conflict had been resolved with brutal efficiency, leaving most nobles with little choice but to accept the new order.

Recognizing that there was no more room for divided loyalties, they sent their messages of allegiance to the capital, knowing that defiance or neutrality would now only bring bad things for the future As the lords and ladies of the realm made their way to the capital, many harbored their own ambitions.

They brought with them the hope of strengthening their positions through a royal marriage, eagerly anticipating the possibility of offering their sons as candidates for the hand of the eligible princess.

For these nobles, marrying into the royal family would be a masterstroke, putting their house in the highest echelons of power and securing influence for generations to come.

They came with grand designs, imagining their bloodline seated on the throne beside Jasmine.

What they didn’t know, however, was that the princess had already been promised to another, her hand quietly taken while the realm had been focused on war.

———— Alpheo walked along through the high-vaulted hall as he moved past rows of gathered nobility.

It was a grand and solemn occasion, the day of coronation, and nearly every noble of consequence had come to attend the event in person.

Those who hadn’t-whether due to old age, sickness, -had sent their sons or trusted representatives in their place, eager to show their allegiance to the new ruler.

Most of the nobles in the room threw curious and wary glances toward one particular group in attendance: the mercenary captain and his band, standing there with all the calmness in the world but wholly out of place in the royal court.

Whispers rippled through the chamber like a low hum, nobles wondering among themselves how the slayer of the previous prince could walk so freely, as if nothing had happened.

They couldn’t ignore the brutal fact that this man had played a key role in the chaos that had reshaped the entire principality.

Many had already approached Sir Robert, the late prince’s loyal knight, whom many knew for his loyalty for his liege, seeking clarity on what had transpired in the last month. They asked him what was true and what was false, hoping to untangle the web of rumors surrounding the prince’s death and the princess’s swift consolidation of power.

Sir Robert, whose grief still lingered beneath his stoic demeanor, had little choice but to confirm the official account.

He had no desire to drag his family down with him by challenging the princess’s narrative, and though his loyalty to his late liege was unshaken, he had his son and wife to think of.

His words, though clipped and cold, had given weight to the royal decrees: the late prince’s faults in instigating the conflict, the mercenary’s pardon, and the rebellious betrayal of the princess’s uncle.

The nobles, while reluctant to accept this version of events, were pragmatic.

They knew that to challenge the new order was to invite ruin, and so, even as they cast sidelong glances at the mercenaries and exchanged hushed speculations, they adhered to the official story.

Alpheo stood amidst the nobles, his eyes scanning the room while his mind drifted into thought.

As expected, most of the lords kept their distance, steering clear of him as though his presence tainted the air.

He smiled faintly to himself, amused by their cautious avoidance.

How will they react, he mused, when they find out that soon I’ll be standing at Jasmine’s side, not merely a hired sword but something far more permanent?

The thought gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction, watching the nobles play their games of decorum and power, unaware of how the pieces were truly arranged.

At his sides there were the close companions of his, that preferred to stay close to Alpheo , then to walk out in a world that was no theirs.

He was lost in these thoughts when a figure approached him, breaking the reverie.

A middle-aged man, elegantly dressed in fine velvets and silks, walked with the confident bearing of a noble, his dark hair touching his neck.

Unlike the others, who masked their distaste when forced to interact with the mercenary, this man showed no such signs.

Alpheo was the first to speak, offering a courteous bow, seeing the man looking at him  ” Name’s Alpheo, pleasured to make your acquaintance my lord.”  The man looked at Alpheo without the reluctance or disdain that many of the other nobles had shown.

“Jared, son of Lord Shahab,” the noble replied, his voice calm and even.

His dark eyes studied the young men.

“Ah, Lord Shahab,” Alpheo responded, surprised at meeting his son , while realising why he had come to greet him.Apparently he was told from his father, of the mercenary role in the new hyerarchy and saw it fit to make his acquaitance Jared nodded slightly, a polite smile playing on his lips.

“I know how the court can be.

Rest assured, not all of us are blind to the changes taking place-or to the hands that made those changes possible.” He gave him a long look as he continued  “Most will not give more trouble than a hard look or disdain in engaging with you, they can see that you are favored by my cousin” Jared continued, his tone matter-of-fact.

“My father spoke relatively well of you, surprisingly…” Alpheo’s brow furrowed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral.

“I didn’t know Lord Shahab took much interest in mercenaries,” he replied, his voice calm but with a hint of curiosity ”Most of the time when we were together he only used hard words with me….” Jared offered a slight, detached smile, the kind nobles often wore when trying to keep their emotions from showing too clearly.

“He’s a practical man, more than most in his position.

And your… methods, as unsavory as they might be to some, produced results.I suppose also the fact that it is thanks to you that the old man’s blood sit on the throne , made a positive look in his eye” Alpheo nodded slowly ”A ugly dog start become better-lookin once he start catching rats…” Jared’s smile faded slightly, and he tilted his head, studying Alpheo with a detached curiosity.

The murmur of quiet conversation that filled the grand hall, suddenly it was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of movement beyond the great wooden doors.

The court, once filled with soft chatter and the shifting of silk and velvet, fell into an immediate hush.

All eyes turned toward the entrance as the air thickened with anticipation.

The heavy doors creaked open, and the rich scent of incense began to waft into the chamber, carried by a light breeze.

The courtiers at the front instinctively stepped aside, parting to make way as the red carpet was rolled out.

Through the opening, she emerged-Her Royal Grace, Jasmine of House Veloni-isha.Alpheo’s eyes moved to her, for a brief moment they met , before she steadied her gaze forward.

Her steps were measured, regal, her posture flawless as she glided forward with the poise of a sovereign born to rule.

Her cloak, a rich blend of deep purple and gold, flowed behind her like, though it was made shorter, as she was much smaller than her father .

Her dark hair, intricately braided, was made to circle around like a crown of thorns.

Behind her, priests of the realm followed in solemn procession, their robes of white and gold billowing softly as they moved, swinging censors that released spirals of sacred incense into the air.

The scent-musky and sweet-filled the chamber, mingling with the soft chanting of hymns, each word echoing with reverence.  Jasmine walked with grace, her chin held high as she approached the throne that awaited her.

The courtiers and the nobles bowed low as she passed.

She reached the throne and turned, facing the hall, her eyes sweeping over the gathered nobles and courtiers.  And then, with an elegant motion, she lowered herself onto the throne, her posture as regal and commanding as the seat she now occupied.

Her presence filled the room.

Jasmine of House Veloni-isha was now enthroned, and in this moment, there was no question of her sovereignty, made easier by the fact that anyone that could protest was now dead or isolated…

As Alpheo scanned the assembly, he noted many lords by their emblems, though his memory struggled to recall the banners of lesser houses.

His eyes wandered over the array of sigils embroidered on cloaks.

Some were unfamiliar,yet, among them, the great houses stood out, their emblems as familiar as the sword at his side.

At the far left of the hall, he spotted the crest of House Sistarorum, a golden tree with long branches set against a dark blue field.

Lord Pyrros of Sistarorum stood beneath it, a tall man with sun-darkened skin and sharp features.  Nearby stood Lord Damaris of Maduaroli.

His long, silver-streaked hair framed a face lined with age and hard-fought battles.Though in recent years he had taken off from royal authority , mostly for contrasting view regarding taxation, as the lord believed he ought to pay less taxes to the crown, since his land were among the one most raided by the Oizen’s soldiers, during their numerous campaigns.

To the right, the deep green standard of House Florium caught Alpheo’s attention.

A white lily surrounded by curling vines was their emblem, his owner being lord Corwan, of which Alpheo had little knowledge.  Closer to the throne, the silver falcon of House Lonsium gleamed on a black field.

Lord Niketas Lonsium, with his cold blue eyes and austere demeanor, watched the proceedings in silence, while throwing ugly looks at Lord Corwan.

‘Apparently there is still bad blood between them’, Alpheo thought as he took notice of the bad stare coming from Niketas  Finally, his gaze fell on the snarling wolf of House Bracum, its silver fur bristling on a black-and-red background.

Lord Xanthos Bracum, broad-shouldered and scarred from a lifetime of skirmished , mostly caused by his yearly raiding parties deep into the princedom of Herculia.Raids mostly allowed by the royal crown, as whatever relationship Arkawatt had with the prince of Herculia, could only be described as bad, mostly caused by the change of sides of the lord of Arduronaven, which defected to the prince of Herculia, after a failed rebellion against the crown, some 13 years ago or so.

Useless to say from then on Arkawatt always made a point to express his hostility to his neighbor.

 Alpheo turned his thought back to Jasmine.

In recent days Alpheo had been busy with many matters, yet now in this moment of peace he realised something, he was really lucky….

The thought struck him with a clarity that was both exhilarating and daunting: soon, she would be his wife, and with it the thing he always dreamed of since becoming a slave.

Reaching the peak of the chain