Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 181

Chapter 181: New masters(2) Chapter 181: New masters(2) Jorundr’s sharp eyes flicked over the faces of Aric’s companions, taking in their surprise and unease.

The corners of his mouth curled into a mocking grin.

He let out a booming laugh that echoed across the field.

“Your faces say it all!” he bellowed, his voice dripping with contempt.

“The real lord is nowhere to be seen, and instead, the pup has come out to face the wolves.” Aric’s men stiffened in their saddles, but none dared to speak against the warlord’s taunt.  Jorundr stepped forward, his heavy boots sinking into the earth, and his voice rang out with an air of finality.

“It matters not who your true lord is.” He waved a dismissive hand, his gaze cold and unyielding.

“Your father, your so-called lord, is nowhere to be found.

From now on, you are the new lord of these lands-by absence if not by right.

And I,” he raised his arms, his tone now laced with both arrogance and ceremony, “declare this by the authority given to me by the great Knotur Geowulf, to whom all these lands shall soon answer.” He took a step closer to Aric, his towering frame casting a shadow over the young man.

“I am the warlord of Knotur Geowulf, and I claim what is his by conquest.

Whether you call yourself lord, regent, or son-it matters not.

You face me, boy, and your time to decide your fate is now.” Aric straightened his back, forcing himself to stand tall despite the looming presence of Jorundr.

His voice was firm, though he couldn’t hide the strain.

“My father is still alive,that would be treason” he said, locking eyes with the towering warlord.

Jorundr shrugged, utterly unfazed.

“If you fear for your position, boy,” he said with casual indifference, “then kill him.” The statement was so blunt, so devoid of emotion, that it sent a chill through Aric’s men.

Their faces twisted in bewilderment, horror flashing in their eyes as they glanced at their young leader, unsure if they’d heard correctly.

Aric’s breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling at the cruelty of the suggestion.

Even his men shifted uncomfortably in their saddles, eyes wide in disbelief.

‘What sort of son would kill his own father?’ Jorundr looked around at the stunned faces with an air of impatience.  ”We’ve wasted enough time with this nonsense.” he barked  Without waiting for a response, Jorundr lifted two fingers to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle, the piercing sound cutting through the tense silence.

One of the men from the thousands behind the warlord rode forward from the mass of warriors behind him, mounted on a sturdy horse, something they had clearly taken after the defeat of Sarlan’s king.

The horse’s hoofs kicked up dust as it moved with purpose, and the eyes of Aric’s men immediately sharpened with suspicion.

Hands instinctively flew to the hilts of swords and axes, the air buzzing with tension as they braced themselves for whatever came next.

Aric, noticing the growing unease among his riders, quickly raised his hand, signaling them to hold back.

“Wait,” he commanded, his voice steady after all, if they wanted their heads , they had no use in sending a rider.

The knights , though clearly on edge, obeyed, their hands still gripping their weapons but making no further moves.

As the tribesman approached, it became clear that the horse was carrying something-a body, tied by a long rope to the saddle, its lifeless form dragging along the ground.

The body scraped over the dirt, raising clouds of dust with each step the horse took.

The sight was grim, unsettling.

The men on Aric’s side exchanged looks of confusion,whispers rippled through their ranks as they tried to make sense of the macabre display.

The rider said nothing, his expression unreadable as he continued to lead the horse and the corpse toward them, stopping right beside Jorundr.

The warlord with a sharp flick of his wrist, motioned for Aric to come closer..

Aric hesitated for only a moment before moving cautiously toward the towering tribesman.

His heart pounded in his chest, but he masked his apprehension with a steady expression, unwilling to show any sign of weakness in front of his men or the enemy.

As Aric drew nearer, Jorundr bent down, gripping the lifeless body by the tattered cloth at its back.

With a swift, forceful motion, he kicked the corpse, flipping it so the face turned skyward.

The body landed with a dull thud, its lifeless head rolling to one side before settling, eyes glassy and open, staring blankly at the heavens.

Aric’s breath caught in his throat as he moved closer, his gaze locking onto the face of the body at Jorundr’s feet.

When he was a child, he remembered his father bringing him to court alongside his older brother; there he remembered his eyes setting on the man sitting on a throne.He was tall , strong and fierce.His blonde hair kept short framed a beautiful face, devoid of any imperfection or scar.  It was unmistakable-the man on the ground was the king of Sarlan.

The once proud and monarch now lay broken and lifeless, his skin pale and sickly, already starting to stink of decay.

His royal armor was no more as his clothes were now dirty and tattered.

The smell of death clung to him, the rot setting in as a harsh reminder of the kingdom’s fall.

He was missing the tip of his nose and an eye probably the work of the black birds , the final brush of a horrible canvas.

Jorundr watched Aric closely, his lips curling into a cruel grin.

“Wasn’t easy finding him,” Jorundr said, breaking the silence with a low chuckle.

“But, as luck would have it, one of his own lords came crawling to our great Knotur, dragging the bound king behind him like a beaten dog.” Aric’s face twitched in disbelief and disgust.

The thought of one of their own betraying the king filled him with disgust.  If it had been up to me, he thought a note of bitterness creeping in as he watched the boy disgusted expression , I’d have cut off that traitor’s head for betraying his king.

No man should turn on his own sworn man , and yet Geowful had another idea.And instead of cutting his head , he allowed him to retain his lands.

Jorundr looked down at the pale corpse of the king for a moment before lifting his gaze to Aric, his eyes hard and unrelenting.

“Now that your king is dead,” he began, his voice cold and final, “and his sons too…

you and your family are hereby cut off from any duty you had to your kingdom and crown.” Aric’s eyes narrowed, his voice strained as he asked, “What do you want?” Jorundr grinned, his broad shoulders shrugging casually, as if the matter was nothing more than a business deal.

“I prefer it this way-quick, easy, without much fuss.” He waved a hand dismissively, like it was all so simple.

“You’re going to give us half the grain you’ve stored every year, starting of course from now .

In exchange, no man of mine will raid your lands, and you and your family will be allowed to keep your holdings, without fear of death.” Aric’s jaw clenched, his knuckles tightening around the hilt of his sword, he knew what this meant.

Jorundr continued, his voice growing more serious as he laid out the terms.

“You’ll send men to defend your new king when called upon.

And one more thing-under no circumstances will you fight against us, send men to fight, or give aid to anyone who wishes to oppose our great Knotur.

If you do, your so-called ‘peace’ will vanish like smoke, and you will find yourself and your lands burned to ash.” He stared into Aric’s eyes, the intensity of his words clear.

“But as long as you follow this agreement, you’ll keep your lands, your lives, untouched.

Simple as that.” Aric stood silently for a moment, his mind racing.

The implications of Jorundr’s offer gnawed at him.

Half the grain.

Men for their armies.

Swearing loyalty to a foreign invader.

His father was mad , his men outnumbered, and the land’s future rested on his next decision.A look into the dead king’s face and Aric knew that resistance meant ruin.

He swallowed hard, his voice low but steady.

“When am I to go and swear fealty to your Knotur?” Jorundr smirked, pleased with the question, and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“You won’t need to go anywhere.

The great Knotur, Geowulf, gave me the authority to represent him in such matters.

Bending the knee to me will be the same as bending it to him.” The tribesman’s words were final.

Aric knew there was no more room to negotiate.

He took a deep breath, feeling the eyes of his men on him.

His knights remained silent, their faces grim but resigned.

They knew as well as he did-this was the best they could hope for.

The alternative would be far worse.

Without further hesitation, Aric stepped forward.

He lowered himself onto one knee, bowing his head before Jorundr.

The weight of the act pressed down on him like the full force of the mountains.

His family’s honor, the legacy of his father-it all seemed to fade under the shadow of this oath.

Jorundr watched with satisfaction as Aric knelt.

“Swear it, then,” he said, his voice almost taunting.

Aric, still kneeling, spoke the words that would bind his fate.

“I swear, by my honor and and that of my ancestors , to serve your great Knotur.

To give tribute as demanded, to raise no sword against him, to fight beside him whenever called and respect his words and actions.” The knights behind him remained still, their hands resting at their sides.

They understood what had to be done.

Even the bravest among them knew that fighting now, with the odds so heavily against them, would only bring destruction.

Jorundr grinned widely, his thick beard shifting with his smile.

“Good,” he said, clapping Aric on the shoulder.

“You’ve made the right choice young pup.” Jorundr’s grin widened as he stared kneeling Aric.

“This was easy ” he said, his voice low but dripping with satisfaction.

“Some of my fellow warlords didn’t have such luck in their dealings.

There are still lords who, out of pride, kept their gates shut, thinking they could withstand us.” His smile deepened, his teeth showing through his thick beard.

“A foolish decision.

In a few weeks, you’ll likely hear news of some cities being burned to the ground, their walls toppled, and their people scattered like ash in the wind.That will be no metaphor; after all, we need peasants working on the field; those behind the walls are of secondary importance to us .” Aric kept his head bowed, trying to focus on his breathing as Jorundr’s words settled in.  Jorundr chuckled darkly, a cruel amusement in his eyes.

“So go, young lord, and sleep well tonight.

Knowing you fared better than those who let their pride blind them.” He clapped Aric’s shoulder once more, his heavy hand lingering as the young man felt he sold his soul to a devil.