Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Capital passion Chapter 205: Capital passion In the dimly lit chamber, the faint glow of dawn crept through the thick curtains, casting gentle shadows across the room.

Beneath a silken sheet, Valeria, the Emperor’s mother, lay entangled with Lord Marcellus, her bare shoulder peeking from under the light cover.

Her long red hair was unbound, spilling over his chest, where her head rested.

The calm rise and fall of his breathing matched the quiet rhythm of her own, the two figures comfortably draped in each other’s presence.

Valeria’s arm lay across Marcellus’s chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns against his skin, while he absentmindedly twirled a lock of her hair.

The weight of her head seemed at home against him, resting just over his heart, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the rare stillness.

Valeria’s fingers traced along Marcellus’s stomach in idle circles, her touch both gentle and possessive as she let out a sharp sigh, her frustration brimming to the surface.

“They don’t even see me,” she seethed, her voice low and bitter, the cadence of a well-worn grievance.

“My father and that wretched brother, all smug with titles and sycophants hanging on his every word, as if I haven’t earned the right to be heard.

I’m the Empress Mother!” She practically spat the words, her fingers pressing a little harder against Marcellus’s skin.

Marcellus hummed, nodding slightly.

“They’re fools, all of them,” he murmured, his hand resting gently against her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.

“They bar me from seeing my own son, my own flesh and blood, as though I’m some dangerous stranger!” Her nails dragged down Marcellus’s stomach as her voice rose, laced with fury.

“And for what?

To let those sycophants fill his head with nonsense?

They twist him, I know it.

Every day that I’m kept away, I can feel them shaping him, pulling him further from me teaching him to hate his own mother .” Marcellus made a noise of agreement, his gaze soft but attentive.

“You’ve every right to be angry,” he said simply, his voice low and smooth.

“They’ve no respect for the woman who brought the Emperor into this world.He is your son it is your right to see him” He said as he tried his best not to sigh in annoyance Valeria’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile, and she laughed darkly.

“They think I’m weak, that I’ll fade into the background, but they forget.” she said fiercely, her fingers resuming their idle movements across his stomach, though her gaze was unfocused, her thoughts miles away.

 “It was me who put the crown on his head-not them.

They have no right to keep him from me.” Her hand tightened on Marcellus’s chest, as though the thought itself burned within her.

Marcellus nodded, his eyes intent on hers, his hand drifting down to cover hers in a gesture of solidarity.

“You’re absolutely right,” he murmured, his tone soothing yet stirring, as though to reinforce her conviction.

“It’s shameful, the way they’ve treated you.

They owe you everything, yet give you nothing .” Her gaze sharpened, meeting his.

“I am completely isolated.

Every single person I trusted to back me, to help me keep my own son close, has turned their coat to line their purse with my father’s gold.

And I…” She faltered, but her eyes remained locked with his, searching his face as if looking for assurance-or perhaps reassurance.

Marcellus’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Then perhaps it’s time we do something about it,” he said softly, his voice laced with a quiet intensity.

Valeria raised her eyes to meet his; Marcellus leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“There are men I trust, loyal people that could be what you looked for on the wrong ones, but getting them inside…well, that’s another matter.” He paused, watching her reaction carefully.

“If we could find a way to bring them within the court walls, we could build a force loyal to us only.Unfortunately I am unable to do that as I am a simply a lord, of course, perhaps f it was not a lord bringing them in but the empress mother herself..” Valeria’s lips curled into a slow, considering smile.

Her fingers traced absent circles on his chest as she nodded.

“Well…” she murmured thoughtfully, “it’s time I found my current guards to be…lacking.

A few replacements wouldn’t be unreasonable, after all.” Marcellus’s eyes sparked with a quiet, calculating excitement, and he leaned in close, his face just inches from hers.

“Then we’ll see to it,” he whispered, the suggestion slipping easily into a promise.

“You deserve a guard fit for an Empress Mother.

We’ll see that you have only the best.” Their breaths mingled, and he closed the distance, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, heated kiss that sealed their unspoken pact.

———- The Wise Council meeting hall was filled with a tense silence as Keval, the Emperor Regent, stood alone at the center, his imposing figure framed by the flickering torches lining the grand chamber.

Around him, tiered seating stretched in all directions, filled with the stern faces of three hundred council members, their eyes fixed intently on him.

A wave of contempt passed through Keval as he scanned the council chamber, his gaze settling on the wealthiest and most powerful figures seated before him.

Greedy bastards, every last one of them, he thought, his expression remaining outwardly controlled.

Over the past few months, smaller factions had sprung up like weeds, each scrambling to curry favor and secure influence within the coucle , while the larger lords exploited the instability, swooping in to consolidate their control , building around them a core number of nobles amassing as many votes as they could.

Keval’s voice, strong and unyielding, rang out as he began his address, filling the hall with a gravity that weighed on each listener.

“Honored members of the council,” he began, his gaze sweeping over the assembly trying his best not to let the inner scowl come out, “we are faced with the greatest crisis this empire has ever known-a crisis that threatens not only our borders, our cities, our coffers, but the very future of our people.” A murmur rippled briefly through the council, but Keval’s voice rose above it, clear and steely.

“We stand on a precipice.

The royal treasury bleeds daily, drained by uprisings, military campaigns, and shattered oaths.

” He paused, his gaze intense, locking onto one council member after another.

“Our forces are stretched thin.

We have insurgents within our own lands, while our neighbors wait like wolves at our borders, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.Must I remember that it will not be long until those wretched people in the sands of Azania will plan a campaign against us?” Keval drew a deep breath, his expression firm.

“This is a time of reckoning.

We must bring every ounce of wisdom, every scrap of loyalty, to the service of the empire if we are to survive.

We cannot afford to falter, not now.” Our resources, once abundant, are being stretched thin against countless threats, both internal and external.

I will not mince words-the state of our finances is grim, and without immediate, collective action, we face a slow but certain decay.” A murmur rose briefly through the assembly, but Keval raised his hand, stilling the whispers.

“And that, dear members, is precisely why we gather today, ” he continued, his tone grave but unyielding.

“It is time we decide on the tax budget for the coming year, with full acknowledgment of the stark reality we face.

Our finances, as you all well know, are expected to diminish considerably given the instability sweeping through the realm.But,” he emphasized, “it is incumbent upon each of you to make your own contributions, however small, to give this empire the strength to stand tall once again, starting to give your support for the previous year’s taxation level.” As the words flowed out from the Regent’s mouth, Lord Croxiatus, patriarch of House Vox, rose to his feet, his presence demanding the hall’s attention.

In recent months, Croxiatus had deftly maneuvered within the city’s elite, building a core of nobles within the council to him The din of whispered conversations fell silent as he began to speak, his voice ringing clear and firm.

“I, for one, am in complete agreement with our esteemed Regent,” he declared, looking squarely at Keval.

“The empire stands on a knife’s edge, and it is our duty as its stewards to strengthen it with every means at our disposal.

Therefore, I too propose to maintain the tax budget at last year’s level and cast my vote for its swift approval.” A murmur ran through the hall as Croxiatus paused, then added with a flourish, “In further commitment to the empire’s security, I am prepared to contribute an additional gift of four hundred aurei to the imperial coffers-a small token of my devotion to the empire’s cause.” The Wise Council erupted into an uproar, with members breaking into fervent discussion, some impressed by the show of loyalty, others suspicious of Croxiatus’s intentions.

Seeing this , Lord Lisidor of house Veritia and Lord Vratinius Bax could have jumped from their seat and strangled the bald man to death.They knew very well that now they were obliged to follow , as if they did not , Lord Croxiatus image as a patriotic noble would make him rise among the neutrals , hot-blooded nobles who would certainly throw their lot with him.  Exchanging a quick, knowing glance with Lisidor, Vratinius rose from his seat.

His movements were deliberate as he lifted his voice, the low timbre easily carrying across the hall.

“The Regent’s words ring true,” he declared, his gaze steady on Keval, though his thoughts remained squarely on countering Croxiatus’s rising influence.

“In the spirit of our noble duty, I, too, pledge my full support to the Regent’s proposal and offer a contribution of three hundred and fifty aurei for the imperial coffers.” Lisidor followed swiftly, rising with a practiced grace.

He placed a hand over his chest, inclining his head toward the council as he spoke.

“And I, Lisidor of House Veritia, echo the Regent’s call.

In solidarity, House Veritia will contribute three hundred aurei.

May our support for the empire be unwavering.” Their declarations sent a wave through the council chamber, as smaller nobles, recognizing the mounting momentum, hastened to align themselves with this patriotic display.

One by one, they rose, offering their support, though their contributions were more modest.

From the back of the chamber, a younger noble pledged one hundred aurei, his face flushed with the excitement of aligning with the council’s elite.

Another, a minor lord with a wiry frame, stood and offered eighty aurei, nodding firmly to emphasize his loyalty.

The contributions continued, each one reinforcing the image of a council unified in its dedication to the empire’s survival, however reluctant some might have been.

As Lord Keval rose from his seat, his eyes instinctively met those of Lord Croxiatus across the chamber.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features; the deal he had struck with Croxiatus was proving to be well worth it.  Keval’s thoughts turned to his elder brother and father, both of whom were entrenched in the mud and chaos of battle, struggling to ensure the empire’s survival.

He knew they were risking everything, fighting for the very future of their lineage.

In the face of such dire circumstances, he felt a swell of responsibility to do his part, however removed it might be from the battlefield.

The least I can do is ensure they have the resources to keep fighting, he thought resolutely , as the continued shouts of the nobles kept filling his ears with the beautiful sounds of the imperial coffers becoming heavier with every second.

The Senex Arundus gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles white as he struck it against the stone floor of the council chamber.

The crack of wood on stone echoed through the hall, slicing through the rumbling voices of the gathered nobles like a blade and bringing them to silence.

“Order!” he barked, his voice still surprisingly robust for his years, filling the chamber with an old, commanding authority.

“You are not merchants at a trade fair, but noblemen of the empire!Behave accordingly!” The murmur of voices subsided as the council members turned their attention toward him, some abashed, others merely annoyed but quieted nonetheless.

The Senex with his gaze sharp despite his age, surveyed the assembly with a look that softened only slightly.

His eyes, softened with age yet still fierce, seemed to hold a rare glimmer of warmth as he continued, “Yet I must admit-today, my heart is warmed by the spirit of patriotism that has graced this hall.

Each of you has displayed a loyalty worthy of your titles and the empire.” He lifted a hand, motioning to a steward who moved forward, bearing a stack of neatly rolled parchments.

“To honor this display further, each noble will receive a parchment,” Arundus announced, his voice solemn.

“Upon it, you will inscribe your name and the sum you so generously contribute to the strength of the state.

And when all is done, each parchment shall be placed into the urn, to be read aloud before men and gods alike, bearing witness to the strength and commitment of our Optimates!” A sudden, tense silence fell over the chamber, stifling the excited murmurs and exaggerated declarations that had previously filled the room.

Nobles who had moments before been shouting inflated numbers with brazen enthusiasm now shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Each one of them realized, with a flash of frustration, that their boasts would now be recorded.

A few muttered curses slipped under their breaths, though none dared speak aloud as they watched a line of slaves begin to move through the chamber, carrying parchment, ink bottles, and quills.

The nobles’ faces ranged from grim to sullen, eyes flickering between one another, each reading the same realization in their rivals’ expressions: they’d been caught in their own game.