Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 194

Chapter 194: Common ground (1) Chapter 194: Common ground (1) Winter gripped the south with a biting cold that seeped through wool and leather, making the march harder with each hour.

Though the skies held no snow, the bare trees lining the road shivered in the icy wind, their skeletal branches reaching out against the bleak horizon.

Ahead, a procession of hundreds moved in disciplined unison, a river of men and steel marching through frostbitten fields and narrow, frozen pathways.

At the heart of the line, the banner of House Veloni-Isha flew high, its bird seemingly trying to reach the sky as if claiming their very own meaning , while beside it, the simple crest of the White Company fluttered,defiant and un-beaten .

This was Alpheo’s personal army, a force of 120 infantry clad in armor, chainmail glinting dully under the sun, marching with steady, practiced strides.

Behind them, fifty horsemen rode aheahd , their breastplates shining in the pale light, their vambraces and simple guisses shielding them from the cold.

These men were not simply a part of Alpheo’s army but belonged to the elite Golden Steeds, a select unit of knights under the royal family.

They rode under the directive of Princess Jasmine herself, sent to solidify Alpheo’s standing and his position as her consort.

Alpheo led the march toward Bracum, his gaze fixed on the distant fortifications that rose from the gray landscape.

It had taken many letters, but common ground had been struck.  Alpheo marched on with only Ratto and Jarza at his side as close companion.

Clio and Leadio had remained behind in Yarzat, each with their own responsibilities to oversee.

Clio managed security over their manufacture house, while Laedio held command over the garrison force of Yarzat.

Asag and Egil had been dispatched to Confluendi, the massive refugee camp whose administration demanded constant attention.

Until Princess Jasmine’s appointed ministers were ready to relieve them, Alpheo trusted Asag and Egil to keep Confluendi stable and functioning smoothly.

As Alpheo’s company neared the city of Bracum, a line of armored men on horses appeared at the roadside.

Among them, one rider held the heraldic banner of Lord Xanthios-a dark lion against a background of pale green-high above the rest.

One rider in the front, a tall man with the same piercing gaze and sharp features of the lord of these land , urged his horse forward.

With practiced grace, he lowered his head in a respectful nod, still astride his horse.

“Your grace” he greeted with a strong, clear voice, “I am Caelum, eldest son of Lord Xanthios.” Caelum’s eyes scanned Alpheo’s men briefly, noting the disciplined formation of both the White Company infantry and the polished armor of the Golden Steeds, before returning his gaze to Alpheo, and being especially surprised by how young he looked.

“My father has sent me to welcome you personally,” he continued, gesturing back toward Bracum’s fortified gates, visible in the distance.

“He extends his sincerest invitation for you to be his guest within our walls, and assures you of every courtesy during your stay.” Alpheo inclined his head with a respectful nod, his tone both courteous and confident as he replied.

“Thank you, my lord , and please extend my gratitude to Lord Xanthios.

I am honored by his hospitality and accept his invitation with great respect.” He met Caelum’s gaze, a hint of warmth softening his otherwise formal demeanor.

“It is a privilege to be welcomed as a guest in Bracum.

” ———- The grand hall of Bracum Keep was unusually silent, every corner swept and polished, every torch lit and flickering warmly against the stone walls.

The banners of House Xanthios pictings depicting passed lord and an embroidered carpet of rich earth tones stretched from the massive double doors to the raised dais where Lord Xanthios would usually await his guest.

The room had been meticulously prepared, the usual din of courtiers and soldiers absent, leaving only the echo of Alpheo’s boots on the stone floor as he crossed the hall with Ratto and Jarza following closely behind.

Lord Xanthios, a tall man of dignified age with a graying beard and sharp, observant eyes, walked forward as Alpheo approached.

His rich, green robes hinted at his family’s wealth and stature.

With a practiced but genuine smile, he extended a hand to Alpheo.

“Your grace” Lord Xanthios greeted warmly, his voice carrying through the hall.

“You honor our house with your presence.

Bracum has eagerly awaited your arrival.” Alpheo clasped the lord’s hand with a respectful nod.

“The honor is mine, Lord Xanthios,” he replied, his tone measured and courteous.

“The generosity of your welcome is more than I could have hoped for.

My thanks to you and your family for hosting me and my men.” Xanthios inclined his head, clearly pleased.

“You are most welcome, your grace.” As soon as the pleasantries were exchanged Xanthios immediately set the talks into the business at hand,after all he was no patient man.  “The so-called ‘gift’ sent by the Prince of Herculia was nothing short of an insult, Your Grace,” Xanthios declared, his voice laced with simmering resentment.

“To all of us.

Our neighbors show themselves to be mindless brutes, shameless liars, and turncoats who have discarded any semblance of honor.Surely you agree with me your grace….” Alpheo listened, nodding thoughtfully.

“The very reason I came here, Lord Xanthios, was to address this… menace that we both face.

” A gleam of satisfaction crossed Lord Xanthios’s face.

His posture shifted, his bearing more optimistic as he pressed further.

“Then, might we finally settle these old grudges, and cull those wicked wretches?” he asked, his voice thick with hope.

Alpheo nodded slowly, his expression resolute.

“Indeed, Lord Xanthios, the honor of Yarzat has been marred, sullied by those who thought themselves clever enough to throw shit from the shadows.

It cannot remain this way, not if we are to uphold the honor that generations before us bled to preserve.” Xanthios allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

“Your Grace speaks as a beacon of valor for all of Yarzat to follow.” Alpheo inclined his head humbly, a faint smile appearing.

“Valor… I cannot say, my lord, if such a grand title is fit for me.

I am a man of battle, accustomed to the demands of steel and strategy.

Perhaps I can speak only with certainty when it comes to martial matters.” He took a measured breath, reflecting, and then continued, “But I have seen the fruits of relentless pursuit.

It was my men who shattered the Oizen army, breaking their left flank so decisively that the cries of their scattered ranks still echo in my memory.” He glanced at Xanthios, who listened intently, his approval evident in his eyes as he continued to flaunt his achievments.

“And after the Oizen, there were the rebels, those who dared to rise against Princess Jasmine.

We hunted them from every hill and hollow, taking back each stolen piece of Yarzat.

At last, our flag stood over their last hold, victorious” Alpheo paused, as if the memories had leapt back to life in his mind, then smiled, his eyes warm with gratitude.

“But, my lord, I do not share this out of pride.

For any success attributed to me rests upon my allies and companions – those who would, without hesitation, correct my faults, sharpen my vision, and strengthen every battle plan.

Together, we turned what could have been my mistakes into shared victories.” Xanthios nodded, deeply appreciative.

“Indeed, Your Grace.

A commander’s brilliance shines only when he surrounds himself with wise counsel.

That, as much as any blade, leads a charge to victory.” Alpheo’s expression softened, his voice taking on a reflective tone.

“Yes my lord , for no single sword no matter how sharp, can stand alone in the storm but is destined to drown in its loneliness.” Alpheo leaned forward slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Lord Xanthios, might I ask your honest opinion?

How do you think we managed to win so decisively in these last battles?” Lord Xanthios’ demeanor grew serious, his eyes reflecting the weight of his words.

“Your Grace, I had the privilege of observing your forces firsthand when I was in Yarzat for your marriage to Princess Jasmine.

I recall the scene vividly.

Your soldiers were not merely equipped but fortified – each man had proper armor, not a single piece mismatched or hastily made.

Their weapons shone with care, showing a respect for steel and readiness for war that only hardened warrior have.” He paused, his voice carrying an air of deep respect.

“I watched them train, saw the unity among them, the disciplined way they moved as a single, precise force.

The cohesion, the clarity of purpose in each rank and file… it was unmistakable, the kind of bond one rarely sees outside the best armies in history.” Alpheo’s lips curved into a faint, pleased smile, he hasn’t even seen the latest changes we’ve made to improve them, he thought , as he believed that all the money spent were nothing short of a good investment Alpheo inclined his head in appreciation, a modest smile playing on his lips.

“Your praise honors me, Lord Xanthios, and I am grateful for it.

However, that is not the answer I sought.” Lord Xanthios raised an eyebrow, his curiosity keen and intent, his gaze that of a man who had dedicated his entire life to reach something , a pursuit that, time and again, had eluded him.

“Then enlighten me, Your Grace,” he asked, leaning forward with the quiet intensity of one who knows well the weight of what they were talking about .

“What do you believe is the true answer?”