Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 170

Chapter 170: Shaking hand with enemy Chapter 170: Shaking hand with enemy Alarzat, now declaring himself King of Arlania, sat on a simple wooden chair in his modest audience hall.

His skin was a deep, tanned brown, kissed by the sun, as the people that declared themselves blessed by earth and sun.

His black hair was braided tightly, falling from the back of his neck and draping over his chest, giving him a regal yet rugged look.

Around his neck hung a heavy gold necklace, a symbol of his newfound kingship, resting atop his broad chest.

Similar golden bands adorned his wrists, catching the light and glinting faintly with each of his subtle movements.

Despite the simplicity of the chair beneath him, his adornments and commanding presence made it clear that he was no mere prince anymore, but the ruler of a land he now called his kingdom.

The meeting had been called by none other than Maesinius of House Romelia, who now styled himself as the Snow King.

It was a title he had claimed after the secession of the northern realms during the chaos of the civil war.

His envoy, a sharp-eyed man named Cyrana man that did not come frome the northern land but from the province of Messenia , stood in the modest audience chamber of King Alarzat, watching the man who had become the symbol of Arlanian defiance and also the man who led the empire to his current situation.

Cyran’s gaze lingered on Alarzat, his thoughts simmering beneath a composed exterior.

He knew, as did many others, that it was Alarzat’s actions that had ignited the storm that tore the empire apart.

The civil war had been triggered by the bold maneuvering of this self-proclaimed king, and it was his hands that had shaped the course of events.

The secession of the north, the breakdown of imperial authority, and the widespread unrest-they all traced back to the chaos Alarzat had sown when with a stone they killed a giant.

Cyran didn’t hate the man.

In fact, a part of him couldn’t help but admire Alarzat.

The so-called king had taken a crumbling, weak state and transformed it through sheer force of will.

He had done everything possible to make it rise from its own ashes.

It wasn’t lost on Cyran that Alarzat had seized control of the southern principalities just half a year ago, after the pivotal victory at Barshaa.

In that short time, he made it very clear to everyone that he wasn’t just another princeling who would come and go every two years-he was here to stay  The first thing he did after his victory was to rally his army and march to every lord in the region, demanding an oath of allegiance.

He didn’t stop there-he also required a son as a hostage from each noble house.

Many had obeyed, bending the knee as quickly as they could.

But, as always, some had refused, either out of pride or fear.

Those dissenters found their castles besieged, their walls shattered, and-after a few well-publicized executions-everyone fell in line.

A few beheadings had been enough to remind the lords of who was in charge now.

With the emperor’s death and the civil war raging across the empire, there was no central authority left to aid them.

The only one who could’ve offered support against Alarzat was Azania, the distant and powerful kingdom to the southeast.

And Azania, as it turned out, had no interest in backing rebellious southern lords.

Instead, they had become the primary backers of Alarzat, seeing in him a strong and reliable ally against the imperials.

The southern nobles quickly realized they had no choice but to bend the knee to their new king.

There was no savior coming, no imperial army to save them.

Alarzat had cornered them, and they could do nothing but accept it.

As Cyran stared at the man on the simple chair before him, he understood that Alarzat’s methods-brutal though they were-had worked.  Alarzat leaned back in his simple wooden chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His dark, intense eyes locked onto Cyran, sizing him up as if the envoy was an unexpected gift wrapped in irony.

“I must admit,” Alarzat said, his voice calm yet laced with the accent of the people from the eastern sands, who struggled to properly master a language that was not their own.

“I never thought the nobles of the empire, whose emperor I had a hand in toppling, would send an envoy to my halls.

And now, here you stand before me.” He let the silence linger for a moment, his gaze unwavering.

“So, what is this all about?

What do you bring from the ashes of that broken empire?” Cyran straightened, feeling the weight of Alarzat’s eyes on him but maintaining his composure.

“I come as an envoy from the newly crowned Snow King, Maesinius I of House Romelia, not as any of the emperor squabbling for their’s father legacy ” Cyran began, his tone respectful but firm.

“The north has seceded from the empire, establishing itself as an independent realm, in its rise they have conquered the province of Messenia.

And as a consequence , you now have a new neighbor,your grace” Alarzat’s brow lifted slightly, intrigued but still guarded.

Cyran continued, “King Maesinius is committed to securing peace within his borders and beyond.

As such, he sends his respects and a message of goodwill.

He wishes to share with you, King Alarzat, his desire for a stable and prosperous relationship between our two kingdoms.

He knows well your reputation as a warrior, a conqueror who has forged a kingdom through blood and fire.

And he seeks to shake hands with such a renowned figure, to ensure that both our realms can grow without the need for further conflict.” Alarzat leaned forward, his hands resting on the arms of his chair, the faintest trace of a smile curling his lips.

His gaze remained fixed on Cyran, sharp and calculating, as though weighing every word the envoy spoke.

“All I ever wanted,” Alarzat began, his voice steady and low, “since I was a child, was my throne.

And now that I have it, I will do whatever is necessary to keep it.

No more, no less.” He leaned back again, glancing briefly at the golden necklace hanging around his neck, a reminder of how far he had come from the days of ambition and bloodshed.

“If a new kingdom rises to take the place of the empire as my neighbor, then so be it.

I am more than happy with that,” he continued, eyes flickering back to Cyran.

“As long as we both keep our word, I have no interest in war.

My kingdom has bled enough.” Cyran nodded, his face carefully neutral but relieved.

“It is good to hear, Your Majesty,” he replied.

“However, perhaps it would be in the best interest of both our realms to establish something more than just mutual promises of peace.” He paused, the weight of his suggestion hanging in the air.

Alarzat’s brow lifted slightly, his curiosity piqued as he waited for the envoy to continue.

Cyran took a breath and said, “Trade, my lord.

Perhaps a formal trading agreement between our two kingdoms.” Alarzat’s fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“Trade, you say?Well keep on talking , I may be interested.” Cyran smiled slightly, sensing the shift in Alarzat’s interest.

He bowed his head respectfully before speaking, his tone calm and measured.

“I know, Your Majesty, that Arlania is a fertile and prosperous land, blessed with vast fields that yield abundant grain.

But unfortunately, despite your kingdom’s wealth in agriculture, you have no true market to sell it to.” He paused, watching Alarzat’s reaction, his words chosen carefully.

“Azania, your main trading partner, produces as much grain as you do, if not more.

There is little they need from you in that regard.

However…” Cyran leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more confidential tone.

“A new neighbor, one who is more than interested in what Arlania has to offer, has appeared at your doorstep.They would gladly buy grain from you in large quantities..” He glanced up, gauging Alarzat’s expression, and added, “This is an opportunity for your kingdom.

For all your history you had neighbors that wanted your land, now…one of them fell off their pedestal and a new one, someone that just wants peace has come…” Alarzat listened intently, his expression unreadable.

His fingers stopped drumming on the chair’s arm, and he tilted his head slightly as he absorbed Cyran’s words.

A kingdom eager to buy, with no competing market in sight-it was a tempting proposition.

“So,” Alarzat murmured, “your dear king in the north needs grain, and I have grain to sell.Now I love money as anyone else , yet is there something that I may specifically need from you?” Cyran leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as he ventured into more dangerous waters.

“We’ve heard whispers, Your Majesty.

Word of a certain prince-now a king-taking an interest in acquiring timber.

The reason for such a desire, while purely speculative, seems rather clear.

Some suggest it’s to build a navy… and open trade routes that can only be secured by the sea.” At that, Alarzat’s expression shifted, his face becoming more guarded, more serious.

His hands, which had previously been resting comfortably on the arms of his chair, clenched ever so slightly.

His eyes narrowed.

The fact that his ambitions had been discovered before they had even borne fruit by a new king, meant that the man at the head of empire behind him certainly was already aware of it  Cyran observed this change in demeanor but pressed on smoothly, his tone steady.

“Of course, Azania would never willingly relinquish timber to a rival-especially one that might challenge their trade monopoly.

With the fall of the other giant, the empire, Azania has only strengthened its grip on maritime commerce.

The last thing they want is competition from another power rising in their shadow.” Cyran paused, letting the implications sink in, before continuing.

“Fortunately for your kingdom, Your Majesty,” he said with a hint of a smile, “your new neighbors have more timber than pebbles on their roads, and we would be more than happy to part with some.

A trade agreement could be struck, benefiting both of us.” Alarzat leaned back in his chair, a faint smile touching his lips.

“I see,” he said, his voice calm “Trade between our kingdoms will benefit us both indeed.

We can discuss the terms later, as I’m sure there will be much to negotiate.” Cyran gave a respectful nod, his expression neutral.

“Of course, Your Majesty.

There is no rush.

The terms can be worked out to ensure mutual benefit.” As he said so the tanned king took a deep breath before continuing  “What I’m about to say is not out of kindness to a king I’ve never met, nor out of any affection for an empire that, for generations, has kept its boot pressed firmly down on the necks of my people.

Your empire bled Arlania dry, used us for your wars, and took more from us than we ever owed.You can say you do not come from that place but your people , hells even your king does ” His voice dropped to a low, deliberate cadence.

“No, I don’t say this for him.

I say it because I have planned for years and fought like a lion to stand where I am now-for my throne, for my people-and I intend to keep it.

But I’m not blind to what’s happening beyond my borders.

The world around us is shifting and it can go many ways depending on what the right people do at a certain moment .” Alarzat leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Cyran, making sure every word hit with the weight it deserved.

“I have no desire to see a new neighbor fall before they’ve even had a chance to secure their place, especially when there’s a path forward for cooperation with us.

I tell you this not as an ally, not even as an enemy.

But as someone who knows what’s at stake and who has no wish to see his people’s future threatened and directed away from what he knows must be….” Cyran’s expression grew more serious as well, his eyes narrowing slightly.

There was weight behind Alarzat’s words, and he sensed the gravity of what was coming.

Alarzat leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering.

“Behind my border,” he said slowly, each word deliberate and steady “The sultan of Azania is preparing to march .”