Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 207

Chapter 207: Preparations Chapter 207: Preparations The next day, Garvin stood at attention within an elegant, sprawling garden, feeling out of place in the pristine surroundings.He had not expected his job to start like this; usually, they would start and end in the same place, in a back alley with the stench of urine and a job to dispose of; sometimes, if he was lucky, he just had to beat some people to convince them to pay back what they owed from loansharks, or in the worst case, dealing with the aftermath of a beating gone wrong.  Currently, he was lined up alongside thirty other men, each outfitted in full armor.

Their chainmail glinted beneath solid breastplates, steel helmets casting shadows over hardened faces, and polished cuirasses and greaves covering their legs with an imposing gleam.

Apparently our job isn’t a discreet one, Garvin realized, as no employer would be so stupid as to make their hired man look so much eye-catching unless he had wanted them to be so.

Garvin’s gaze drifted across the garden, momentarily entranced.

Flowering vines wound up marble pillars, and fountains sent streams of crystal-clear water into the air, casting rainbows in the morning sunlight.

Rare blossoms bloomed in bursts of color along manicured paths, their fragrance contrasting sharply with the smell of the places he used to visit.For a small moment he allowed himself to take the beautiful and pleasant sight in , however, he quickly took hold of himself as it would have done him no good to play the mesmerized fool.

Especially in front of his superiors Ahead of them, stood a late middle-aged man, his gaze sweeping over the line of hired crooks with an expression of both scrutiny and quiet disdain.

His face was weathered by time and his sharp eyes assessed each mercenary as if weighing their worth, and it was useless to say he was not pleased by it .  At the man’s right side stood a figure Garvin immediately recognized: Ravinius.

But gone was the shadowy cloak and simple attire he had worn the night before.

Now, Ravinius was clad in a suit of gleaming armor, polished to a mirror shine.

The breastplate caught the morning sun, casting bright reflections across the rows of armored men, and a finely-crafted helmet rested beneath his arm.

Ravinius looked every bit the leader, with an intensity in his gaze that now seemed somehow fiercer, unhindered by the cloak of secrecy he’d worn the night before.

Ravinius stepped forward, his armored boots pressing into the lush grass, the metallic clink echoing through the garden as he faced the line of hired crooks.

His gaze swept over them, sharp and discerning, measuring each man as he spoke.

“Each one of you,” he began, his voice carrying a firm edge that commanded attention, “was handpicked by me, chosen for your skills and your ability to keep your mouth shut.” His eyes lingered on a few, as though to remind them just how serious he was about that expectation.

He paused, letting his words settle before continuing.

“This job will pay you all dearly-so well, in fact, that by the end of it, you’ll never need to work another day in your life.” A faint murmur passed through the line as the men shifted, some exchanging glances, their faces betraying a mix of excitement and greed.

Garvin felt his pulse quicken at the thought, his earlier doubts momentarily silenced by the prospect of wealth beyond anything he’d ever earned.

Ravinius held up a hand, his expression hardening.

“But there are a few important rules to keep in mind.” His tone sharpened, and the murmur quieted immediately, the men’s full attention drawn to him as he continued.

“These rules are not optional.

Follow them, and you’ll walk away with more coin than you ever dreamed of.

Disobey them, and you’ll wish you hadn’t set foot here.” Ravinius’s gaze hardened, and he looked each man squarely in the eye as he continued, “You’ll be working with people of high class-nobility, the kind you’d never normally get within arm’s reach of.

Which means you’ll all need to learn the basics of how to act like proper hired guards.” He paced slowly, his armor gleaming as he walked down the line of men “Don’t worry,” he added, his tone slightly mocking, “I don’t expect you to learn to speak eloquently or bow like some court fool.

But I do expect you to know how to stand with your back straight and to behave in the presence of people of higher birth.

You will be their shadow-seen, never heard, never out of place.If someone looks like you it has to be a fleeting stare, like one would give to an insect” Garvin glanced to his left and right, his brows furrowing as he took in Ravinius’s words.

Where are we working, and, more importantly, who in the gods’ hells are we working for?Were they hired to be the bodyguard of some rich prick?No, if that was the case he would not have scoured the slums to pick the swords that would protect him…

Ravinius paused and looked down the line as if he could hear their thoughts, his piercing gaze daring them to ask aloud.

 “During this job, you will keep silent.

Not a word, not a whisper-unless you’re spoken to.

You are shadows, nothing more.

If I so much as catch you breathing too loud, you are out” He paused, letting the threat sink in, his eyes narrowing as he continued.

“And keep your hands to yourselves,” he added, his voice growing darker.

“If I have even the slightest suspicion of thievery, I’ll be dragging your corpse to the river myself and dumping it where no one will ever find it.

Consider that your only warning.” The men shifted uneasily, some gulping, others dropping their gaze.

Ravinius’s voice softened slightly but lost none of its edge.

“But,” he continued, “if either I or our client asks anything of you, you will act immediately.

No questions, no hesitation.

You’re being paid well enough to follow orders without a second thought.To you they are ghosts until the moment they are in need of anything , at which point they become your gods.

In one month, the job will begins” He gestured toward the older man standing just behind him, a figure wrapped in quiet authority.

“This is Sir Rallius.

He’s here to teach you the proper conduct expected of you.” The old man , apparently whose name was Rallius, met their gazes with an assessing look.

His silver hair framed a face marked with hard-earned lines, the type of man who tolerated neither excuses nor shortcuts.

Seeing that the old man had nothing to ask Ravinius continued, “You’ll have exactly one month to learn what he teaches.

Stand straight, follow orders, and learn how to blend into the background.

You’ll learn how to carry yourselves around nobility-how to look the part of a guard to someone of high standing.” He cast a final sharp glance over the line of men, his eyes hard.

“Understand this: if any of you are deemed unfit by the end of training, you’ll be dismissed from the job.” After that, the old man finally stepped forward with a slow, deliberate sneer, his gaze sweeping over the assembled men as though they were little more than dirt under his well-polished boot.

His lip curled in distaste, and he let out a sigh that hinted at long-suffering patience worn thin.

“To think,” he drawled, his voice dripping with scorn, “I have tutored the sons of lords ,and now I am forced to instruct a ragged band of cockroaches in manners far above their station.” He shook his head, a trace of resignation in his eyes, as if still coming to terms with this unfortunate duty.

With a clipped motion, he turned, gesturing curtly for them to follow.

“Come along,” he snapped.

“We’ll be starting your lessons immediately.

Every hour counts if I’m to shape any of you into something remotely presentable.” Without waiting for a response, he began to stride forward, leaving unsaid that they had to follow him in.  What have I gotten myself into?

Garvin thought bitterly, as the more time passed, the more worried he became about the strange air hanging around everything.  Why the hell would nobles hire low-born men like us when they have soldiers and knights at their beck and call?

It didn’t make sense, and no matter how much he thought about it , he couldn’t find a reasonable answer for any of his doubts.

This whole situation smells rotten, he thought, his mind racing with paranoia as he felt like a sheep unknowingly walking straight into a slaughterhouse.

And as it would turn out, he was right in being worried, for this small group of men was being led to become accomplices in one of the gravest forms of treason that the laws of both men and gods could ever condemn: harming one’s own blood.