Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 201

Chapter 201: Learning more Chapter 201: Learning more Alpheo stood by one of the tall, narrow windows of the keep in Bracum, his gaze settled on the training yard below, where Ratto moved with relentless focus.

The boy’s stance was low, steady, his muscles coiled with anticipation as he sized up his opponent, another youth of his age and height, yet lacking his intensity.

He lunged forward, his wooden sword arcing swiftly through the air, testing the other boy’s while not fully commiting .

His opponent raised his blade just in time, their weapons clashing with a satisfying crack that echoed off the keep’s stone walls.

But Ratto pressed on, feinting left only to dart right, swinging his sword in a sharp arc that his partner barely managed to deflect.  At one point, Ratto took a calculated risk, pivoting on his heel and delivering a sweeping strike aimed low, forcing his partner to jump back.

He then kept pressing forward with a series of rapid strikes, his footwork deft and agile.

Though his movements still carried the rawness of youth, each blow seemed a little sharper, each reaction a little quicker, Alpheo knew that the boy was learning his way.

A slight smile curved at the corner of Alpheo’s mouth.

Ratto was eager to learn, not only in the rigors of physical training but in the discipline of the mind as well.

After the campaign ended, Alpheo ensured the young, sandy-haired boy received the education worthy of a noble.

He attacked his studies with the same intensity he showed in the training yard, his blue eyes alight with curiosity as he studied everything he was thrown. Whether it was late into the evening under candlelight or at dawn before the day’s training began, Ratto’s dedication was unwavering.

Alpheo would often be told by his tutor that the boy would pass hours hunched over a table piled with scrol-.

A voice sounded behind him.

“Your Grace.” Alpheo turned to see the eldest son of Xanthios stepping into the hall, bowing his head respectfully.

“Lord Caelum,” he replied, his eyes moving to his figure .

The heir to Bracum stood at a modest height, his frame lean but well-built, revealing a strength that, while not imposing, suggested a man comfortable with the sword.

At twenty-five , his face retained the youthful sharpness of his age.His black hair fell in a bowl cut, framing his face with an unstudied simplicity, the strands just brushing his forehead, giving him a slightly boyish look that contrasted with his otherwise serious demeanor.

Caelum stepped up beside him, gaze following Alpheo’s out toward the yard.

“You seem to take a keen interest in the boy’s training,” he remarked with a slight smile.

Alpheo’s expression softened.

“I do.

I have something of a soft spot for the child,” he admitted quietly.

Caelum’s smile broadened at the rare admission, and he moved closer to the window beside Alpheo.

Together, they watched the yard in silence.  “I’ve been told the reason for your visit, Your Grace,” Caelum began, his eyes shifting to Alpheo, studying him with a guarded intensity.

“Good,” Alpheo replied, offering a measured nod.

“Then perhaps you have some thoughts about it?” Caelum scratched his neck thoughtfully, his expression veiling any strong reaction.

“Not particularly.

It’s no snake in the grass, not after all that’s happened.” He paused, his gaze turning somber.

“I imagine you’ve seen…

my father’s attachment with his brother?” Alpheo’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sign of understanding.

“If you mean the finger, yes, I’ve seen it.” Caelum’s gaze dropped, as if searching for some invisible answer.

“He’s held that finger as though it were a tether to his own sense of honor.

I’ve watched him clutch it for years, Your Grace,” Caelum murmured, his voice tinged with a weary resignation.

“That thing has haunted him…

consumed him. To him, it’s as if that finger still pulses with his brother’s heartbeat.” Alpheo studied Caelum closely, weighing the truth behind the young lord’s words.

“So it would seem,you think he can go pass it?” he replied slowly allowing the words to settle before pressing further.  Caelum’s face softened into an expression that was both sad and resolute.

“You already know the answer, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice lowering as though speaking the words made them truer.

“There was a time I thought he could.Now I don’t ” Alpheo looked at Caelum, his gaze thoughtful but piercing.

“So, are you against this war, then?” Caelum let out a short laugh, a sound both bitter and amused.

“If it means an end to that blasted obsession, I almost wish we’d gone to war sooner,” he replied, glancing sidelong at Alpheo.

His smile faded as he continued.

“This rivalry with the Lord of Arduronaven has dragged our house toward ruin, Your Grace.

My father spends his days plotting and scheming, clinging to some ancient grudge while the rest of us try to keep our heads above water.” He sighed, voice dropping as he looked out the window again.

“Every year, without fail, raiding parties pass between our lands.

He sends one out, they return the favor-this endless cycle has drained us dry, debts piling up faster than we can count.The harvests is low and most of it is used to give enough food for the refugees created during last year’s raid.

There was a time when Bracum stood proud and strong.

But now?” Caelum shook his head, a trace of bitterness in his gaze.

“All we’ve done is fan the flames of hatred, paying for it with every coin we’ve ever earned.” Alpheo’s thoughts churned as he watched Caelum, eyebrows knitting together with suspicion and intrigue.

Why is he telling me all of this?

He couldn’t shake the question.

He was practically laying out the vulnerabilities of his own house as if he were laying cards on a table.  Surely, no man would reveal his father’s weakness like it was a card game so freely unless he intended something, Alpheo thought, eyes narrowing. Is he subtly telling me that with his father at the helm the lordship will be too weak to even help?Does he want to have my consent to depose him?

Alpheo watched Caelum in silence, his expression unreadable “This rivalry needs to end, once and for all,” the young man murmured, voice steady but laced with a deep-seated weariness.

” Our coffers are empty, our lands scattered with scars-scars they bear like burdens passed down, none of it their own doing.” He glanced at Alpheo, his expression resolute as he continued his poetic ramble, making Alpheo think that the Lord liked theathers a bit too much.

“Whatever it takes, this madness must have an end.” Alpheo looked out over the courtyard, nodding slowly as he took in Caelum’s words.

“It’s my end as well,” he said, voice measured with the weight of conviction, “to bring this matter to a final close, once and for all.” His gaze shifted thoughtfully back to Caelum, studying him with quiet scrutiny.

“But tell me, what exactly do you hope to gain by sharing all of this with me?I am sure that is not just idle talking” Caelum met Alpheo’s steady gaze, holding his silence for a moment as though deciding just how much he could reveal.

Then, with a respectful incline of his head, he asked, “Your grace, may I speak frankly?” Alpheo shrugged, a faint smile flickering across his face, somewhere between amusement and resignation.

“By all means.

Let’s have it, then.” Caelum’s voice turned somber, each word deliberate.

“Your grace, you and her grace -though rightful in your place-stand nearly alone in that position.” He paused, gauging Alpheo’s reaction as he continued.

“At Arkawatt, we saw only a small number of nobles answer his call, and now that you’ve established your role here, it may be fewer still who would willingly follow you into the next battle.

The noble houses, though they grudgingly recognize you as consort, may not rush to your banner when the time comes.” Alpheo’s brow arched, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the words.

Caelum did not flinch, pressing on.

“More than anything, your grace, what you need is the loyalty of your vassals-true loyalty.

I have no doubt that you seek for the Lord of Bracum to stand among those allies.” Alpheo’s face remained unreadable, but a faint nod acknowledged Caelum’s insight.

“But,” Caelum continued, voice softening, “to be of real use to you, we must be strong enough to lend a real hand.

There is little to gain in binding Bracum to your cause if our strength is too sapped by this feud to offer you support when you need it.” He glanced at Alpheo, choosing his words carefully.

“If a powerful ally is what you seek, then it is in both our interests to sever the root of this longstanding conflict.

Cut it down entirely if we must, for only in that way can Bracum’s loyalty mean anything substantial to you.” Alpheo’s gaze hardened, his voice cold and resolute.

“It has always been my purpose to see the Lord of Arduronaven brought to justice,” he said, each word a promise of iron.

There was no mistaking his conviction; his intent was set, unyielding as steel.

Caelum inclined his head, speaking with careful respect.

“Of course, your grace.

Forgive my misjudgment,” he replied, his tone measured.

“It’s only… war is as fickle as the sea.

Should fortune shift, I feared the turncloak might yet survive, spared somehow to bring our city back under Yarzat’s hands.” A low laugh escaped Alpheo, rich with a flicker of amusement.

“Not a concern, Lord Caelum,” he replied with a wry smile.

“You see, I’ve no tolerance for turncoats myself.They quite disgusts me…”