Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 166

Chapter 166: Madness and Weakness Chapter 166: Madness and Weakness Valeria stood before a heavy oak door, her breath measured but her heart pounding beneath her composed exterior.

Before her, blocking her path, stood Keval-her younger brother.

His short red hair, the same fiery hue as hers, gleamed in the torchlight, though his expression was far from welcoming.

Keval had never been one for royal grandeur, preferring the quieter life of a nobleman in seclusion over the intricacies of court politics.

But now, as the Regent of the Emperor, he was forced into a position of power by his father’s ordder.

His face, usually relaxed, was drawn in irritation as he stared at Valeria, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sister,” he said, his tone clipped, “what is this about?” Valeria’s eyes blazed with determination.

“I’m here to see my son,”  Keval sighed heavily, clearly exasperated by the situation.

He glanced at the guards who stood nearby, their eyes flickering between the siblings in uneasy silence.

“You’ve been told, Valeria.

The emperor is inside with his tutors,” he said, his voice tight with annoyance.

“He’s in the middle of his studies.

Interrupting him now would do no good.

Not to him, and not to you.” Valeria’s jaw clenched, the tension in her posture unmistakable.

“I am his mother,” she hissed, stepping closer to her brother.  ”And I am the regent in our father’s stead.Did you finish stating the obvious?” Keval’s patience was wearing thin.

His brow furrowed as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to keep the conversation from spilling out into the ears of the nearby guards.

“This is nonsense.

I was called from my chambers only to find you here demanding access to Mesha like he’s a prisoner.

He’s with his tutors, learning how to rule-something you should be glad for.” Valeria’s eyes flashed.

“I will decide when and how my son learns to rule.” Keval’s lips tightened, the frustration in his eyes clear.

“You are not the one making decisions anymore,thanks the gods ” he said coldly.  Valeria’s hand tightened into a fist, but she said nothing for a moment.

She could feel the power dynamics shifting, her once absolute control slipping away with each passing day.  Keval stood firmly in front of Valeria, his arms still crossed as he met her fiery gaze with a calm, measured expression.

“After his lesson,” he began slowly, “Mesha will need to train in the yard with the new master-at-arms.

Once that’s done, then you’ll be allowed to meet with him.” His tone was firm but indifferent, as though her protest meant little in the grand scheme of things.

Valeria’s face darkened, her lips parting in a sharp intake of breath as fury surged through her.

“You dare?” she hissed, her voice rising dangerously.

“You would keep me, his mother, from seeing him?

Am I to wait like some courtier, hoping for a scrap of time with my own son?” Her fists clenched at her sides, and she took a step forward “I will not be dictated to in my own palace, Keval!” Keval sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if warding off a growing headache.

The frustration in his expression was obvious, but he remained composed.

“Valeria,” he said, his voice steady “if you don’t calm down and leave this corridor right now, I’ll have no choice but to force my guards to escort you back to your rooms-and keep you there.” Valeria’s eyes widened in disbelief, her rage deepening at the implication.

“The only reason I’m not doing so,” Keval continued, his voice sharpening with every word, “is because I don’t want to give the lords any more reason to think we’re a family torn apart.

Imagine what the court will say if they find out the empress was locked in her chambers like a rebellious child.” Keval sighed again, his features softening just a little, though his voice retained its edge of warning.

“Father doesn’t need this kind of nonsense, Valeria.

He’s out there, leading a war for Mesha-for your son.

The least we can do is keep things here under control.

The last thing he needs is to hear that his children are turning the palace into a battlefield of their own.” Forcing herself to keep her composure, Valeria’s voice was icy as she finally spoke.

“Tell my son I was here.” Then, without another word, she turned on her heel, her gown sweeping across the cold stone floor as she stalked away, leaving Keval standing by the door, watching her retreat with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

Keval watched her go, rubbing his temples again “As if we didn’t have enough to deal with…” It had been two weeks since the devastating news of the fall of God’s Finger reached the capital.  The moment his father heard of the loss, he had sprung into action.

There was no time for mourning or shock.

He began raising an army from every source available, nearly emptying his vast coffers in the process.

Mercenaries were hired by the thousands , bought with gold and promises of plunder, while reluctant lords were bribed into sending their banners to his aid.

Marthio’s influence and wealth had always been his weapons, and now he wielded them with ruthless precision.

But as his army gathered, Marthio knew he could not leave the capital unguarded.

The city itself had become a political battlefield, filled with factions ready to exploit any sign of weakness.

The court was rife with intrigue, and the Wise Council was already seeking to undermine the empress’s authority.

Marthio needed someone to stay behind, to hold the reins of power in his absence.

His choice fell on Keval.

As the middle child, Keval was neither the bold warrior nor the cunning tactician that others in his family were known to be.

His older brother, Tyros, had always been the one drawn to glory and battle, a man of action with a fiery spirit and a sword in hand.

Tyros had been stationed at God’s Finger before its fall, and by some stroke of fortune-or divine favor-had managed to escape before the fortress fell into Mavius’s hands.

Had Tyros been captured, it would have been a disaster for the family.

But the gods had smiled upon them, and now Tyros roamed free, organizing resistance far from the capital raiding and attacking lone bands of soldier with his cavalry whenever the circumstances allowed him to do so.

Keval, by contrast, was far more reserved.

A scholar at heart, he preferred the quiet of the library to the chaos of battlefields.

He lacked the fire of Tyros or the imperial authority of Valeria.

Yet Marthio had chosen him, not out of affection or preference, but because Keval’s cool, calculating nature was what the city needed.

In Marthio’s eyes, Keval was dependable, more inclined to keep things running smoothly than to chase glory or risk everything in rash decisions.

He wouldn’t take unnecessary risks, nor would he challenge his father’s authority while he was gone.

Keval understood power, not in the way his father did, with grand gestures and armies, but in the small, careful manipulations that kept the palace running like a well-oiled machine.

After having dealt with that sorry excuse of a sister Keval finally sat at his desk, resuming the work he had been put off from finishing .

 His brow was furrowed in concentration as he poured over the latest reports from the empire’s treasuries and grain reserves.

His hands, more accustomed to turning pages than wielding a sword, moved deftly across the pages, noting every figure in it and grimacing from what he was seeing  The empire was hemorrhaging wealth at an alarming rate.

The fall of God’s Finger had not just been a military disaster; as it now greatly increased the time the crown would take to put down the rebels.

Lands once rich with resources, teeming with farms and bustling trade routes, were now in rebel hands.

The loss of these lands was not only a blow to imperial prestige but also to its coffers.

Keval knew that the empire’s annual budget would soon diminish by at least 40%, a catastrophic reduction that would strain every aspect of governance-from paying soldiers to maintaining roads and supporting the empire’s sprawling bureaucracy.

While his father and Tyros fought on the front lines, Keval understood that the true threat to the empire went far beyond raiding armies and besieged castles.

The civil war was already dragging the empire into an economic recession, and he knew it would only worsen.

Armies could be rebuilt, lands reconquered, but the economic scars left by this conflict would last for generations, hundreds of merchant would lose their wares, which meant that much of the country’s richness and trading hegemony would fade away overnight.

The rebellion had already disrupted trade routes across the empire, and Keval could see the signs of economic collapse beginning to take root.

With half the empire’s lands gone, so too were the grain shipments that fed the cities and the iron mines that forged the weapons to arm the imperial forces.

The empire’s tax revenue would be dwindling, and even the wealthiest lords would certainly soon be feeling the strain of sending levies to fight in a seemingly endless war.

He knew his future efforts to balance the imperial income and expenditure would be crucial, even if they went unnoticed by those who preferred to count victories in battles won and castles taken.

What good was an army if it couldn’t be fed, clothed, and armed?

What use was a throne if there was no treasury left to support it?

While others fought their wars in the field, Keval fought his in the back rooms of the palace, doing everything he could to support his family from the background, while his father expected him to find a solution that something that seemingly could not be stopped.