Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 142

Chapter 142: Close call Chapter 142: Close call Alpheo was on his knees, his voice a raw shout of agony that cut through the air.

His right hand was all red with blood , a dagger piercing through the flesh, the blade embedded deep enough that the tip jutted out from the back of his hand.

Blood pooled beneath him, his face contorted in pain as he clutched at the wound with his free hand, eyes wide with shock and fury.

Nearby, Thalys lay face-down in the dirt, his arms forcibly twisted behind his back by two of Alpheo’s men.

This was the first man Alpheo was so close to death, in this life at least , yet it seemed that his luck was as big as his ambitions.

Meanwhile Jarza wasted no time.

With a savage roar, he swung his mace in a brutal arc, crushing the skull of one of Thalys’ guards, the sickening crack of bone echoing across the battlefield.

He then turned and with a roar brought his weapon down on a second man before the guard had a chance to react.  The rest of Thalys’ men immediately surrendered as they saw they rest of the guards running towards them.

 Shahab wasted no time in delivering a brutal kick to Thalys’ face, sending the man’s head snapping to the side.

Blood dribbled from his nose and mouth as Shahab spat at him, his anger not faked as what just happened would have made the blood of any noble boil with anger.

“You bastard without honor.” Thalys, despite the agony in his limbs and the assault to his face, let out a ragged laugh, blood-stained teeth bared in defiance.

“You would serve a cunt who spreads her legs for dogs!What does that make you?” he shouted, his voice thick with contempt and hatred.

Jarza,hearing the words, with his face twisting in rage, raised his mace high, ready to bring it crashing down on Thalys’ skull.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the weapon, fury blazing in his eyes.

But before the blow could land, Alpheo’s voice, still hoarse from pain but sharp cut through “Stop!” he roared, even as his face remained contorted in pain, his hand still pierced by the dagger.

Jarza froze mid-swing, glancing back at his friend and leader for a brief moment, his mace trembling slightly in his hands.

Reluctantly, he lowered his weapon, stepping back.

Alpheo, breathing heavily, turned to one of his men standing nearby.

“Go, fetch Agalosios.

Tell him…

tell him my condition.” His voice was strained but firm, the urgency clear.

As the soldier ran off to fetch the medic, Shahab turned slowly, catching sight of Alpheo’s expression-an intense, simmering fury beneath the pain.

The anger in his eyes was undeniable, and Shahab, recognizing the fire within him, took a step back, subtly shifting to the right, allowing Alpheo the space to handle Thalys however he saw fit.

Thalys lay on the ground, bloodied and bruised, but his defiance burned just as fiercely as before.

He spat on the grass, a dark glob of blood and saliva staining the earth between them.

His eyes were wild with hatred as he looked up at Alpheo.

“My only regret,” he growled, “is not killing the murderer of my lord and his son when I had the chance.” Alpheo, still kneeling and clutching his injured hand, breathed heavily, the pain from the dagger wound etched across his face.

But despite the agony, a cold, mocking smile crept across his lips.

Slowly, he shifted his weight and leaned closer to Thalys, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

“Do you want to know how they died?” Alpheo began, his grin widening as he saw the fury ignite in Thalys’ eyes.

“Ormund, your precious lord, was surrounded by my riders.

Hundreds of them.

And his last moments?” He chuckled, his breath ragged but sharp as a blade.

“Pathetic as his death .

Screaming his name, as if it meant something.

‘I’m a prince!’ he cried, as though that would save him.One of my men shut him up for good.

A sword straight through his chest.

Right through his heart.” Thalys’ face contorted with rage, trembling as he fought against his restraints, his whole body shaking with the desecration of his lord’s memory.

“And as for his brat,” Alpheo continued, his voice thick with cruelty, “he cried like a little bitch.

Begging, sobbing.

Thought his bloodline, his name, would protect him.

But no.

He followed his father to the grave, just as quickly.They even made sure it was painless.

Too kind, really.” Thalys, though bound and beaten, struggled against his restraints, his fury threatening to burst out of him.

“You bastard,” he spat, his voice shaking with rage.

“You coward,dog and whore .

You-” Alpheo cut him off, the smile vanishing from his face, replaced with a cold, dead look.

“No,” he said softly, but with a dangerous edge.

“They died quickly.

You, on the other hand, will die slowly.

Painfully like a dog” He leaned even closer, his face inches from Thalys’.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for the kind of mercy I gave your precious lord and his son.” A wicked grin curled back onto Alpheo’s lips.

Without warning, he swung his boot into Thalys’ face.

The crack of teeth and the spray of blood echoed through the air as Thalys’ head snapped back, blood pouring from his mouth.

Alpheo didn’t stop.

Again and again, he stomped on the knight’s face, the dull thuds of his boot meeting flesh and bone reverberating with a brutal finality.

Then, he shifted his aim, smashing down on Thalys’ hand, feeling the bones snap under his heel, the knight’s screams of agony rising with each crushing blow.

After few seconds, Alpheo straightened up, wiping his good hand across his brow, and spoke with a calm that betrayed the malice beneath his words.

“Gag him,” he ordered, his eyes flickering coldly over the men standing around.

“I don’t want to hear another word from him all that will come out will be screams..” His soldiers moved quickly, binding Thalys’ mouth with thick cloth, silencing the man’s muffled curses and growls of hatred.

Alpheo watched with satisfaction, then shifted his gaze to the remaining guards who were still alive, bound and kneeling nearby, their faces pale with fear.

As Alpheo’s men dragged the prisoners into custody, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, his vision blurring momentarily.

His legs buckled, and he collapsed into the nearest chair, his hand trembling violently from the pain.

Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage wrapped around his injured palm.

“How do you feel?” Shahab asked, gently taking Alpheo’s wounded hand in his own, carefully examining the damage.

“Not great.

I’ll be honest-got real scared there for a moment,” Alpheo admitted, drawing a deep breath.

He winced as the pain flared again.

When he raised his head, he caught the look on Jarza’s face-tight-lipped and brimming with guilt.

“Stop looking like that,” Alpheo said, forcing a weak smile.

“You’re not the one who got stabbed.

I’m still breathing over here.” He attempted a laugh, but the sharp pain in his hand made him grimace instead.

“I should have been more alert,” Jarza muttered, his expression dark with regret.

“All those talks of honor and conduct made me drop my guard.

I failed you.” Alpheo shook his head.

“I should’ve been more careful too.

Even a cornered mouse will bite the cat.

It’s not your fault, Jarza.

It was too sudden…” “Most assassination attempts are,” Shahab said, his voice firm, eyes focused on Alpheo.

There was no sympathy, only hard truth.

Alpheo grunted, forcing another smile through the pain.

“Come on, my dear lord, I’m not about to make your granddaughter a widow just yet.

I plan to hold my child before I die.” “cockroaches are the hardest to kill,” Shahab said dryly, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he cracked a small smile.

“You’re too useful to die so easily.

I’m sure she’d be…

upset if you were to drop dead now.” Alpheo chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

“Is that your way of telling me she loves me?” A few moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps approached.

Agalosios, the army’s head medic, arrived with his tools slung over his shoulder.

His expression was calm, but his movements were swift and efficient, giving away the urgency of the situation.

Behind him trailed Asag and Clio, both looking concerned.

“Alpheo,” Asag called out, his voice tense.

“Are you all right?” His eyes flickered to the blood-soaked hand.

Agalosios knelt immediately beside Alpheo, not wasting a second.

He gently took the wounded hand, revealing the ugly, jagged wound where the dagger had pierced through Alpheo’s palm.

The medic’s fingers prodded carefully, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he assessed the damage.

Alpheo waved a dismissive hand at Asag and Clio, trying to brush off their concern.

“Let the man work,” he said, his voice strained but steady, though the pain still radiated from his injured hand.

Clio stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the injury, while Asag’s brows furrowed deeper with each passing second.

Agalosios glanced up briefly, giving a curt nod of reassurance before returning to his task, cleaning the wound with steady, practiced hands.

”Can you move it?” He asked as he looked up  ”I can , but it hurts like a bitch” Alpheo said as he moved his finger to touch the hilt of the blade “Not a pretty sight, but nothing fatal,” Agalosios finally muttered.

“You’ll keep the hand, though it’ll hurt for a while.” As Agalosios continued to check the wound , Alpheo, despite the pain, managed a faint grin.

He watched the medic work for a moment,before turning around  “I hope you’ve learned well from me,” Alpheo said, half-joking, though his eyes held a flicker of seriousness beneath the humor.

Agalosios glanced up briefly, his expression neutral but respectful.

“I’d like to think I have.

The rate of dying in this army has decreased drastically since I started following your teachings.” Alpheo chuckled, though it quickly turned into a wince as the medic put a bit of pressure around the wound “Good to hear.

Keep it that way” Alpheo said with a wince before leaning back and letting the medic do his job