Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 148

Chapter 148: Turning point(1) Chapter 148: Turning point(1) Two soldiers stood atop the crumbling city wall, lazily leaning against their spears as they kept a halfhearted watch over the desolate landscape.

The boredom of the endless watch weighed on them, making the hours drag painfully slow.

“Gods, I miss the brothel,” one of them grumbled, adjusting his helmet with a sigh.

His tone was wistful “I’d give anything for a night with a woman.

A real woman, you know?

I am tired of using my hand in the dark…” His companion chuckled, nodding in agreement as he shifted his weight.

“I hear you.

If we’re lucky we’ll manage to sneak out duirng the night for a quick visit .

I swear, the next woman I see, I’ll-“during A low rumble interrupted the man’s crude fantasy, cutting his words short.

The ground beneath their feet gave a faint tremor, just enough to be noticed.

They froze, exchanging puzzled glances.

“Did you feel that?” the first soldier asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

His grip on the spear tightened instinctively as he glanced down at the weathered stone beneath their feet.

“Yeah…

what the hell was-” The second tremor hit, stronger this time.

The stones under them shuddered with a foreboding creak.

Panic flashed across their faces as they instinctively staggered backward, their eyes widening in sudden realization.

“Gods, the wall-” Before the warning could be finished, the stones beneath them let out a terrible, groaning crack.

The ground shifted violently, and in an instant, the entire section of the wall collapsed with a deafening roar.

The two men barely had time to scream as they were swept up in the fall, their bodies flailing helplessly as they plummeted into the abyss below  Massive chunks of stone followed them, crashing to the earth below, burying them in a cloud of dust and debris.

Across the besieging army’s camp, soldiers had noticed the sudden movement on the walls.

Then, seeing the dust rise into the air, realization struck, and a wave of cheers erupted from the ranks.

“It’s about time, you bastards!” one soldier shouted, raising his weapon high into the air.

“Now it’s our turn to have some fun!” another bellowed, and more soldiers poured out of their tents, eager to witness the aftermath.

Some ran toward the breach while cheering , others stood on the edges of the camp, hollering in excitement as they watched the dust rise into the sky, signaling the beginning of the end for the city.

Alpheo heard the rumble first, a distant, resonant sound that seemed to shake the earth beneath his feet.

He stood from the table, brushing aside the tent flap and stepping out into the cool air.

His eyes immediately locked onto the cloud of dust rising from the city’s wall.

The debris and crumbled stone were still settling, and he could already hear the distant cheers from the men outside, voices rising in excitement at the sight of their long effort bearing fruit.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Alpheo’s face.

“It’s time,” he murmured to himself.

The end was finally in sight.

Turning, he saw Ratto standing beside him, ever loyal and steadfast, as his personal squire always was.

Without a word from Alpheo, Ratto already seemed to be waiting for instructions.

“Tell Asag to get the workers clearing the debris,” Alpheo ordered, his voice steady and calm.

“Make sure the path is ready for the assault.I want the city conquered before nightfall…” His gaze remained fixed on the dust cloud ahead, almost as if he were watching a grand piece of theater unfold before him.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air, a charged silence before the inevitable storm.

Ratto nodded quickly, hurrying off to fulfill his command, while Alpheo remained where he stood, arms folded behind his back, eyes on the crumbled wall.  ———————– Gairos, the garrison commander, shouted orders with desperate intensity as soldiers scrambled around him, dragging wooden palisades toward the breach.

Dust and debris still hung in the air, the gaping wound in the wall looming before them like a death sentence.

He could feel it deep within him-the city had fallen, not by a grand charge or heroic defense, but by the slow erosion of time and the enemy’s patient cruelty.

Yet, despite the crushing certainty of defeat, he resolved to make his stand.

“Move!

Get the palisades in place!” he barked, pointing toward the shattered section of the wall.

His voice carried over the cacophony of panicked men, some of them trembling, hammering wooden stakes into the ground with shaking hands.

They knew as well as he did that the enemy was coming, relentless and overwhelming.

And still, they worked, knowing that they might be constructing their final defense, a futile bulwark against the inevitable.

Gairos turned his gaze to the sky for a moment, then back to his men.

He could see the fear in their eyes, their faces pale, their bodies stiff with dread.

Most of them were common soldiers, barely more than boys.

They hadn’t signed up to be martyrs.

Yet here they were, preparing for a last stand in a city that had been damned from the moment Thalys fell.Maybe even earlier than that …

There would be no escape for him, that was certain.

He wasn’t a coward, and the last thing he would do was flee from the fight knowing what the consequence for his family would be , even if it was hopeless.

No, he would die here with whatever remained of his dignity.

That was the one thing they couldn’t take from him.

Gairos took a deep breath, steadying himself as he watched the trembling hands of the men he commanded.

He forced himself to remain calm, to look composed in front of them.

He knew that they were looking to him for courage, even as they hammered their stakes into the ground with sweaty palms and hollow eyes.

There would be no glory in this final stand, only blood, dust, and the faint hope that death would come swiftly.

“Make it count,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

————— The laborers moved quickly, shoveling debris from the collapsed wall, their efforts spurred on by the promise of extra pay if they managed to clear the rubble by midday.

Dust hung in the air, stirred by the constant movement of men and tools.

The crumbled stone lay scattered, broken into jagged fragments.

Despite the hard work, the laborers pushed forward, their sleeves rolled up and sweat glistening on their foreheads.

But their work wasn’t easy.

The garrison, desperate and enraged, launched a constant barrage of harassment.

Arrows whistled down from the remaining parts of the walls, some finding their mark among the workers, others clattering against the shields of the soldiers standing guard.

Stones, hurled by hand or slings, thudded into the earth, adding to the chaos and danger.

Every few moments, one of the laborers would shout in pain or drop to the ground, injured or worse.

To counter this, Alpheo had ordered the siege towers to continue their assault.

From the tall wooden structures, archers rained fire down on the defenders, the twang of bowstrings filling the air as they aimed to suppress the enemy long enough for the laborers to work.

This exchange of fire helped, but it didn’t stop the garrison entirely.

The enemy, knowing their doom was near, fought with a fury born of desperation, trying to disrupt the workers’ progress as much as possible.

Alpheo had anticipated this.

Mantlets, large mobile shields on wheels, had been constructed earlier and were now being rolled forward, providing some cover for the laborers.

These wooden barriers created a line of protection, allowing the workers to move from one to another as they continued their task.

The workers ducked behind them, darting out when it was safe to shovel another load of rubble or to move stones from the pile.

Seeing such a thing, the garrison could do nothing but shoot arrows and hurl stones in vain.

The wait was short.

No more than three hours passed, and the path to the city stood open, cleared of debris.

The broken section of the wall now lay in rubble, leaving an unguarded gap large enough for an assault.

Alpheo stood atop a small rise just outside the crumbled section of the fortress, observing the final preparations.

Soldiers lined up, swords drawn and shields raised, their faces a mixture of grim determination and bloodlust.

The waiting was over.

The breach was theirs, and the time had come.

Alpheo rode at the head of his army, 1,300 strong, their eyes glinting in the sunlight as their weapons caught the first rays of dawn.

His banner of two simple black strips on a white field flapped violently in the morning wind.His polished armor gleamed, the sound of hooves and marching feet echoing through the valley.

It had been a month of waiting, a month of enduring the tedium of siege warfare, but now, victory was close enough to taste.

Alpheo stopped his horse and turned to address his , Shahab and Leomar’s men.

His voice, sharp and commanding, rang out across the gathered ranks.

“For a month, we have laid siege to this city.

The last stronghold of those who dare defy the rightful ruler of these lands-our princess, anointed by the gods themselves!” He let that sink in, his words weighted with divine authority, while wondering how much the men truly cared about that  “They have turned their backs on their liege, rebelled against the crown blessed by the heavens.

We offered them peace, a chance to lay down their arms and be spared.

But time and again, they spat in our faces.

They would rather live in defiance, their hearts blackened by treachery and malice!” He raised his bandaged hand high, the white cloth stark against the shining metal of his armor.

“Look here, at the proof of their dishonor.

During a parley, their commander-a man without honor or virtue-tried to put a dagger in my throat.

The sacred laws of war, broken in cold blood!

These are not men; they are vermin, devoid of loyalty, faith, or decency.” His gaze swept across the soldiers, his eyes locking with theirs.

“What kind of leaders break the bonds of brotherhood and sow deceit among their own?

What kind of people follow such godless men, and have the courage to say that they willingly follow them?

These walls, their homes, their lives-all are stained with corruption.

But today, we shall cleanse this land of their treachery!” He leaned forward in his saddle, his voice growing sharper, more intoxicating as that of a lawyer delivering the final speech to save his client, whom he fervently believes to be innocent .

“The walls have crumbled, and the time to strike is upon us!

And when this city falls, it falls to us!

The spoils be it gold or women , will belong to us .

There are riches ahead, just waiting to be picked from their broken streets.

The wealth of this city, stolen from the true princess, will now fill your pockets!” The army stirred, eyes brightening at the promise of riches.

They hung on his every word, as if each syllable made their weapons lighter, their spirits higher.

Alpheo, seeing the spark of greed flare in their eyes, pressed on, knowing the moment was ripe.

“And not only the gold!

Everything they have taken from the true crown.

Claim it and seize it as your rightful reward ” A savage roar erupted from the ranks.

Men beat their swords against their shields, their hunger no longer merely for battle, but for the spoils of victory.

The fires of greed and lust burned brightly now, hot enough to drive them to tear the city apart brick by brick.

Alpheo smiled to himself, watching as the men stirred with frenzy.

He had them exactly where he needed them.

He raised his hand again, calming the army for one final word.

“Remember, this is not just a conquest of arms.

This is the will of the gods!

The traitors have turned their backs on divine order, and today, we restore it!

We fight not only for gold, but for the honor of our princess, the chosen of the heavens!

With every strike, we bring justice to this land, and with every breath, we reclaim what is rightfully ours.” The soldiers roared once more, their cries echoing off the hills, shaking the very ground beneath them.

The city lay broken, waiting to be taken.

The soldiers, now feverish with anticipation and greed , surged forward, ready to reap their reward.

And Alpheo, knowing the credit would be his no matter who struck the final blow, was more than happy to let them lead the charge to be the first to die.