Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 172

Chapter 172: Changes comes and goes(2) Chapter 172: Changes comes and goes(2) Blake deftly parried the thrust of a soldier’s lance with his shield, the force of the blow reverberating through his arm.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward, closing the distance in a brutal surge.

His axe swung in a deadly arc, biting deep into the soldier’s collarbone with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprayed in a hot, crimson arc as the man crumpled to the floor, his eyes wide with shock in his final moments.

Blake barely registered the sound of the dying man’s gasp; his focus was elsewhere, caught up in the intoxicating rush of battle.

How much he had missed this-the visceral thrill, the sharp scent of blood mingling with sweat and iron, the cacophony of war surrounding him like a dark symphony.

Every clash of steel, every scream of pain, felt like music to his ears, a song he had been too long without.

Around him, his men run through the halls of the governor’s house, their swords and axes cleaving through the defenders.

The once grand structure had become a battlefield, the fine tapestries now smeared with blood, and the marble floors slick with the remains of the fallen.

The governor’s guards, caught off guard by the sudden attack, were barely holding their lines.

They were few , scattered, disorganized, no match for his men Such sight must be spread throughout the whole island, Blake thought gleefuly as he watched around to make sure there was no enemy to any of his side.

To his left, one of his men disarmed a guard with a swift strike to the wrist before plunging his sword into the man’s gut.

On his right, another drove his blade through a defender’s neck, the gurgling sound barely audible over the clash of battle.

The governor’s soldiers fought with desperation, but Blake’s force had momentum, and they were relentless.

Blake’s smile widened beneath his helm as he pressed forward, the rhythm of the fight taking hold of him.

His axe moved with lethal efficiency, cutting down anyone who dared to stand in his path.

This was where he belonged-amidst the chaos, where life and death were decided in the blink of an eye.

He could feel the island bending to his will, piece by piece, and the realization only fueled his bloodlust.

They would remember this day.

They would remember him.

The honor of killing the governor of the island was coveted by many among Blake’s warriors and the other captains and lords.

Each of them yearning for the glory of that final kill, the one that would end the island’s false reign.

But despite their desire, there was an unspoken understanding among them-a respect for the man who had masterminded their success.

Blake.

It was his genius that had brought them here, his plan that had allowed them to infiltrate the island with such ease.

Disguised as mere merchants, slipping through the defenses undetected, they had taken the city from within.

No lengthy siege, no prolonged struggle.

Just swift, brutal conquest.

Blake’s strategy had turned what could have been weeks or months of bloodshed into a matter of hours.

So, when it came time to claim the final prize, the men stepped aside.

None dared to challenge Blake for the honor.  Blake stormed up the winding stairs of the governor’s house, his footsteps heavy, the clinking of armor and weapons echoing through the narrow stone corridor.

He didn’t hesitate, his eyes locked on the doors above, but between him and his prize stood more guards-men who had no idea their deaths were coming.

The first guard lunged at him from the left, spear thrust forward, aiming for Blake’s gut.

With a twist of his body, Blake swung his shield, deflecting the spearhead off its iron rim.

The guard stumbled, losing his balance for just a moment, but it was all Blake needed.

He brought his axe down in a brutal arc, cleaving through the guard’s shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprayed across the stone walls, and the guard fell down the stairs in pain.

Another soldier rushed in from above, sword raised high.

Blake took a step back, watching as the man’s blade slashed through the air where he had just been standing.

With a snarl, Blake countered, using the flat of his axe to knock the guard’s sword aside before driving his boot into the man’s chest.  More guards appeared.

They charged up the steps, three at once, their eyes filled with both fury and fear.

Blake met them head-on.

His axe swung with brutal precision, striking one man across the jaw, shattering bone and teeth.

Another soldier came from his blind side, but Blake’s shield came up just in time to absorb the blow, sparks flying as steel clashed against steel.

Without missing a beat, Blake brought the edge of his axe down on the second soldier’s thigh, severing muscle and sinew.

The man screamed, collapsing onto the stairwell in agony, but Blake had already moved on, his focus now on the third guard.

This one was quicker, more cautious.

Their blades met in a series of rapid, ringing strikes, each man trying to find an opening in the other’s defense.

Blake felt the familiar surge of battle thrill in his veins, the music of clashing steel and the scent of blood fueling him.

With a roar, he bashed his shield into the guard’s chest, driving him back against the stone wall.

The guard tried to raise his sword, but Blake was faster.

His axe came up under the man’s arm, slicing through the chainmail and biting deep into his ribs.

The guard gasped, blood spilling from his lips as he slid down the wall, lifeless.

Panting, Blake paused for a moment, listening to the silence that followed the chaos.

The bodies of the guards lay strewn across the stairs behind him, their blood soaking into the stone steps.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his grin widening.

After dealing with light resistance , Blake and his men approached the heavy wooden doors at the end of the long hallway, their footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls.  Blake paused for a moment, looking back at his men, giving a single nod before they all charged forward.

With a crash, their shoulders slammed into the door, splintering the wood as it gave way under their assault.

The doors burst open, revealing the governor’s private chamber.

Inside stood a short, fat man-his face pale, drenched in sweat, and his body trembling.

Behind him, barely visible, was a young woman, naked, huddled beneath the silk covers of his bed.

Her eyes wide with fear, she cowered behind the governor, clutching the sheets to her chest as if they might protect her.

“I surrender!” the governor blurted out, his voice trembling “You can have anything you want!

My family-they’ll pay a ransom, a hefty one!

Just spare me!”  Blake stood at the threshold, his grip tightening around the haft of his axe.

He scratched his cheek absentmindedly with the flat of the blood-stained blade, as if he were considering the man’s offer.

His cold eyes flicked to the woman behind the bed, then back to the fat, trembling governor.

He stepped forward slowly, each step deliberate, his boots leaving a trail of blood on the floor as he closed the distance between them.

The governor’s breath hitched, his body trembling more violently as Blake drew nearer.

Blake stopped inches away from the man, the dim light from the chamber casting dark shadows across his scarred face.

Without looking at the woman, Blake asked calmly, “Do you know where he hides the coin?” The girl hesitated, her eyes darting between Blake and the governor, her breath quickening in terror.

Her lips trembled as she nodded, the sheets still clutched tightly around her shaking frame.

Blake didn’t even spare the governor a glance.

With a swift, casual motion, he swung his axe.

The edge cut through the air with a whisper before burying itself deep into the governor’s neck.

Blood sprayed across the room, and the man fell to the floor with a dull thud, his lifeless eyes wide with shock, his final words dying on his lips.

Blake wiped a splatter of blood from his face, not bothering to look down at the corpse.

He turned his gaze to the woman, his voice steady and emotionless.

“Lead us to it.” The girl, trembling and pale, nodded again, her bare feet shuffling as she climbed out from behind the bed.

With a final glance at the governor’s body, she led Blake and his men toward the hidden stash, her steps unsteady but obedient, knowing there was no choice.

The girl hesitated for a moment, her trembling hand pointing to a large, ornate piece of furniture against the far wall.

“It’s…

under there,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Blake gave a brief nod, signaling one of his men.

The soldier immediately moved forward, muscles straining as he pushed the heavy wooden dresser aside.

The furniture groaned under the force before sliding away, revealing a section of the floor covered by a thick, luxurious carpet.

Without hesitation, the man ripped the carpet aside, exposing a wooden plank with a small iron handle embedded in its surface Blake’s man crouched down and grasped the handle, yanking it upward.

The plank lifted, revealing a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards.

Inside sat a chest, small but reinforced with iron bands, the hinges old and well-worn.

The man reached down, hauling the chest out of its hiding place and bringing it over to Blake.

With a single sharp kick, Blake slammed his boot against the chest’s lid, the wood creaking before splintering open.

As the chest fell apart, the contents spilled into the dim light of the room.

It was filled to the brim with Auratii and Silverii, the golden and silver coins gleaming in the flickering light of the chamber.  Blake cast a final glance at the trembling girl, her eyes wide with fear, huddled beside the now-empty chest.

Without a word, he shifted his gaze to one of his men, a stocky soldier with a rough grin, standing by the door.

“Hey, Darron,” Blake said casually, scratching the stubble on his chin.

“Weren’t you saying something about looking for a wife?” Darron’s eyes lit up at the mention, a crooked smile spreading across his scarred face.

“Aye, Captain,” he stepped forward, his gaze locking on the girl.

Blake gave a small, dismissive wave.

“She’s yours.” Darron wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl’s wrist with a rough hand, yanking her toward him.

The girl let out a faint whimper but didn’t resist, too terrified to do anything but follow, better be the wife of one man than the plaything of the whole army.

As Darron pulled her toward the door his grin widening , he glanced back at Blake.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said, his voice full of glee as he dragged the girl outside.

Blake watched them leave, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turned back to the chest of coins.

His men were busy scooping the wealth into sacks, their eyes gleaming with the same hunger for fortune that had driven them here.

With a nod of approval, Blake turned and strode out of the room, leaving the chaos and bloodshed behind.

Blake strode toward the window, the clamor of his men filling the room as they looted the governor’s wealth.

He pushed it open, the night air rushing in with the scent of blood, smoke, and terror.

From the streets below, the cries of men and women echoed through the night-screams of panic, of lives turned upside down in an instant.

Blake leaned out slightly, a grin stretching across his face as he took in the chaos.

Fires flickered in the distance, and the sound of steel clashing against steel told him his men were still meeting pockets of resistance.

He raised his head and bellowed into the night air, his voice cutting through the confusion like a war horn.

“The kings have returned for their lot!” he roared, his words carrying over the sounds of battle and pillaging.

Below in the courtyard, his men responded with a deafening cheer.

The sound rippled through the streets, growing as more men, scattered across the island, joined in as the howling of wolves that finished their bleeding prey