Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 147

Chapter 147: A city falling on itself(2) Chapter 147: A city falling on itself(2) Inside the large tent situated at the intersection of the two main roads of the camp, various officers from Alpheo, Shahab, and Leomar’s forces waited inside.  Alpheo’s officers stood in one corner, whispering among themselves.

Their attire was simpler than the others,just a simple chainmail with plates of armor over shoulder , arms , chests and leg, reflecting their origins as soldiers of a mercenary band.There was no crest on their chest as they belonged to no house.  There was Jarza, burly and stern, his hands idly resting on the pommel of his sword as he leaned against the main wooden pillar.

Asag stood nearby, arms crossed, but staying to himself as always alongside Clio .

None of them knew why they had been summoned, only that Alpheo had called them abruptly after his interrogation of the prisoners.

Shahab’s officers, in stark contrast, were more formal, their clothes adorned with finer stitching and their mannerisms reflecting the aristocratic background of their lord.

Shahab himself was there speaking with some of his officers.

Leomar’s men, stood a bit more restlessly, they were the last to have come and they were still getting used to the many rules to respect inside the camp.

Many of which had already gone head to head with Alpheo’s officer to enforce their rules of the other’s soldiers army.

The only man who seemed completely unperturbed was Egil.

Unlike the others,he had a good idea of why they had been called.

He had been with Alpheo long enough to understand his methods, and the arrival of the prisoners earlier in the day had been the likely cause of this gathering.

His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword, his eyes half-lidded as he watched the others in the room, waiting for the meeting to begin.

As the officers waited, Clio, one of Alpheo’s men, decided to fill the silence with a story.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he turned to Asag “You wouldn’t believe what happened the other day,” Clio began, grinning.

“One of the lads, I think it was Rykor, ended up falling into one of the shit-pits.

Took us a good half-hour to get him out, stinking like a pig.

Had to toss him a rope-he was flailing around like a fish in muck, cursing the whole while.

Nearly pulled three of us in with him!” Asag chuckled, shaking his head.

The two shared a laugh, but the lighthearted moment was interrupted by a sharp snort from one of Leomar’s officers, a tall, haughty man with a rigid posture.

His expression twisted into disdain as he cut into their conversation.

“Vulgar men only talk about vulgar subjects,” he sneered “Maybe you lot should keep such filth to yourselves and not spoil the meeting .” Before Asag or Clio could respond, Egil, who had been standing off to the side, overheard the remark.

With a lazy smile, he straightened up  “Ah, but vulgar subjects keep things grounded, don’t they?” Egil said casually, his voice smooth and unbothered.

“You’d be surprised how much wisdom you can find in a pile of shit if you’re willing to look close enough.Though perhaps some shit’s like you are not worth the time to look into ” He winked at Clio, who stifled a laugh.

The comment hit its mark, and the Leomar officer’s face flushed red with indignation.

He took a step forward, fists clenched as he glared at Egil.

“Watch your mouth, mercenary.

You forget your place.” Egil only shrugged, his smirk widening.

“I know my place well enough.

Besides, if I ever forget, you are welcome to remind me” Before the situation could escalate further, the flapping of the tent entrance caught everyone’s attention.

The tent canvas snapped as Alpheo entered, his presence immediately silencing the room.

His gaze swept over the officers, and without a word, he moved toward the head of the table, clearly ready to begin the meeting.

Even before he could seat , one of the officers from Shahab’s side, a burly man with a thick beard and a brash demeanor, slammed his fist on the table, interrupting Alpheo mid-sentence.

“We should storm the city now!” he barked, eyes gleaming with impatience.

“Their morale is broken, their supplies low.

This is the time to strike, not sit around waiting for them to recover.” A few other officers murmured their agreement, nodding vigorously.

“Why wait?” one of them chimed in.

“We’ve been on this for weeks.

Let’s end it now while they’re weakened!” Alpheo’s gaze turned cold, but his tone remained calm and firm.

“Not yet,” he said, cutting through the rising voices of dissent.

“Our preparations are nearly finished.

The mining tunnels of which we have been working on for the last weeks have reached the foundations of the city walls.

We can bring them down from beneath their feet, rendering their defenses useless.” Some officers exchanged uneasy glances.

They were eager for the glory of the final assault, but the waiting had worn on them.

A few of them crossed their arms, clearly displeased with the idea of further delay.

“But how long do we keep waiting?” one of the more seasoned officers asked, his brow furrowed.

“The men are restless.

This could be over now.” Another officer, younger and more ambitious, stepped forward.

“Why don’t we hear what Lord Leomar has to say?” he asked, looking to the son of Lord Damaris for support , hoping to sway the decision.

All eyes turned to Leomar, who stood quietly at the edge of the gathering, observing the exchange.

His youthful face betrayed a moment of hesitation, but then he spoke, his voice firm but measured.

“Sir Alpheo is right,” he said, his eyes steady.

“With just a few more days of patience, we can avoid unnecessary casualties .

When the walls crumble, the city will be ours, and the fight will be easier.” The officers, especially those who had been eager to storm the city, fell into a tense silence.

Leomar’s support for Alpheo was decisive, and they knew it.

Alpheo nodded subtly toward Leomar, appreciating the solidarity.

“We wait,” Alpheo concluded, his voice brooking no further argument.

“Victory is already within our grasp.

We need only to pull the rug out from under their feet.” One of the officers, a grizzled veteran with a scar running across his cheek, furrowed his brow and leaned forward.

“Then why were we called here if the decision to wait has already been made?” he asked, frustration lacing his voice.

Alpheo’s eyes swept across the room, calm and calculating.

“You were called,” he said, “to decide on how we will storm the city once the walls crumble.

And, more importantly, to determine who will lead the vanguard in the assault.” A brief but palpable silence filled the tent.

The gravity of leading the vanguard was clear to every officer in the room.

It was both a great honor and a dangerous responsibility, as the first wave would bear the brunt of the defenders’ final resistance and yet would also get the glory of taking the city .

Leomar suddenly broke the silence, his young voice clear and confident.

“I will lead the vanguard.” The officers from his side, tasked with ensuring the safety of Lord Damaris’ only heir, went wide-eyed in shock.

A murmur of disbelief spread among them.

The color drained from the face of a nearby captain, who immediately took a step forward as if to object.

“My lord, with all due respect, you can’t-” one of them began, his voice tight with alarm.

Leomar held up a hand, silencing him.

His expression was resolute.

“I can, and I will.

This is my first campaign, and it will not be said that I hid behind my men while they fought and bled.” The officers from Leomar’s contingent exchanged anxious glances.

They had been tasked with the protection of Lord Damaris’ heir, and now the young lord was volunteering to put himself in the most dangerous position possible.

They knew their duty, and that the lord made sure to let them know of the consequences if anything happened to his heir .  Alpheo raised his hand, cutting through the uneasy murmur in the tent.

His voice was calm, yet firm.

“The young lord’s courage is admirable,” he began, his gaze locking with Leomar’s.

“And it is only fitting that such bravery be rewarded.

Lord Leomar, you may indeed lead the van.” A few of the officers from Leomar’s side tensed, bracing for the implications already getting ready to argue against the order .

But Alpheo wasn’t finished.

“However,” he continued, his tone measured, “we must all remember that the terrain around the city will not allow for a cavalry charge.

This will be an infantry assault, fought in the mud and rubble.

Horses will be of little use once the walls fall.” There is no way I will let you get in danger boy…., Alpheo thought as he shared his gaze with Leomar’s officers.

With that , most of the officers in the room relaxed slightly, their expressions shifting as they realized the deeper meaning behind Alpheo’s words.

The young lord might lead the vanguard in name, but the implication was clear: he would not be at the very front of the fighting, charging headlong into the breach with his cavalry.

Instead, he could stay safely behind, while the infantry and other units took the brunt of the initial assault.

After all nobles did not fight on foot as a general rule,, that was the job of the poor footmen…

Alpheo, for his part, was more than happy to grant Leomar the symbolic honor.

The boy’s courage was commendable, but as general of the royal army, Alpheo knew that the true glory would come to him regardless of who led the first wave.

Victory would be credited to his leadership, his planning.  He also knew that the initial charge would be the most perilous, where the casualties would mount, and the risks would be high.

If the officers of Lord Damaris’ contingent wished to have the glory for their young lord, they could have it.

Alpheo would be content with the credit for conquering the city itself-and he preferred his elite forces remain intact for later, more critical battles , after all his whole power resided on the strength of his army and it was not worth to throw away his soldier’s live for something meaningless like glory.