Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 236

Chapter 236: Aftermath Chapter 236: Aftermath Two days passed since the end of what was to be known as the Battle of the Bleeding Plains, which saw Alpheo’s army triumph against Prince Lechlian’s.

The first day was reserved to looting, as the soldiers combed the battlefield, stripping it of what little value remained.

Weapons , armors, coins from the fallen-all were scavenged with practiced hands.As whatever could be sold was taken, some even starting taking the teeth of the dead soldiers, planning to sell them to doctors that would use them as dentatures.

As the sun began to set on that first day, the mood of the camp shifted.

Alpheo, keen to bolster morale and remind his troops of the triumph they had earned, ordered a feast unlike any seen in recent campaigns.   Alcohol flowed like rivers, loosening tongues , which coupled with the good amount of loot that the soldiers had taken , were as happy as a man with a fat purse could be.

With the start of the second day however everything returned as it was , as the preparation for the storm of the city of Arduronaven started to seriously be prepared, letting everybody see, foes and friends alike that Alpheo planned to hammer the nail and finish what he started.

————– The quiet scratch of a quill against parchment broke the stillness in the tent.

Alpheo sat hunched over a plain wooden table, his face lit by the flickering light of a single candle.

His hand moved steadily, the letters flowing from his thoughts to the page as he wrote to Jasmine.

The words, though framed in the context of war, carried a personal touch.

He detailed the battle, the triumph hard-won and the costs heavy, but he did not linger there.

Instead, he wove in notes of longing for her company, updates on trivial matters she might find amusing, and questions about home.

This was not just a report to a wife but a tether to the life he had left behind.

The flap of the tent shifted, and Jarza stepped in without ceremony, his armor bearing fresh scratches and his face set in its usual blunt expression.

In one hand, he carried a small sheaf of papers, while in the other an apple half eaten.

”So early in the morning and yet already at work?” Jarza asked as he took a bite out of the fruit “Anyway I’ve come with what you asked of me.” Alpheo glanced up from his letter, setting the quill down and leaning back in his chair.

He gestured for Jarza to continue.

“We’ve lost 260 men,” he began, his tone steady but heavy.

“Another 120 are wounded, and 30 of those will likely never fight again.” Alpheo’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression controlled.

“How many of those losses are our men?” he asked quietly.

Jarza didn’t flinch.

“Ninety five dead and twelve severely wounded from the core forces.

The rest are from the other lords.” A long breath escaped Alpheo’s lips.

He leaned back slightly, his hand absently brushing the edge of the table.

“It could have been far worse,” he admitted, his voice carrying a faint note of grim relief.

“Considering how bad our position was, it’s a mercy it wasn’t worse.

What about the prisoners?” Jarza shifted his weight slightly.

“We captured 380 men in total.

They’ve already been put to work on menial tasks around the camp-filling the moats, cutting trees and building ladders.It is unlikely that those bastards will ransom them, which mean that we are free to do as we like with them, be it execution or slavery….” ”We will use them as laborers for roads and repairs back in Yarzat ”Alpheo answered before asking about their other prisoners “And the high-born?” Jarza’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Some seconds and third sons of minor nobles, along with a few dozen knights.

No one of significant standing.

They’re worth a ransom, but…

nothing extraordinary.” Alpheo hummed, his fingers drumming lightly on the wooden surface.

“Well, even small ransoms add up.

I will have them write their families for ransom..” “What about the loot?” Alpheo finally asked.

Jarza folded his arms and gave a dry chuckle, his tone both wry and satisfied.

“Well, after our troops reached the enemy camp, they did what soldiers do best-looted the place to the bones.

By the end of it, we secured goods and coin valued at roughly 10,000 silverii.

Our share comes to around 4,000.

Not a bad haul considering the circumstances.” Alpheo nodded, his expression unmoved as Jarza continued.

“Now, as for equipment, we managed to claim nearly 300 chainmails and helmets, along with 80 full iron pieces of armor each-spoils from the knights Egil’s cavalry tore apart.

While no one’s laying claim to the heavy armor yet, the chainmail and helmets are already in the hands of the soldiers.

That means we’ll have to buy them back if we want them for the armory.” “And the cost?” Alpheo asked, his voice steady.

Jarza smirked knowingly.

“Three silverii apiece should do the trick.

Most of the lads will accept that without issue.

It’s a fair price for what they’ve claimed as their reward.” Alpheo tapped his fingers against the table, mulling it over for a moment before giving a small nod.

“A fair price indeed.

I will see to it, then.” With that out of the way, Alpheo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Well, since you’re here and got nothing to do , tell me-what’s your take on the battle?

How did we do?” Why does he assume I have nothing to do?

Jarza wondered as he crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful.

“Our men?

They did damn well.

Especially the fourth corps.

Those halberdiers were monsters out there.

You wanted them to punch holes, and they delivered.

They tore through the Herculeans like a hot knife through butter the only thing that stopped them from breaking was the fact that they outnumbered them.” Alpheo gave a tired nod but smirked faintly.

“Yeah, but let’s not kid ourselves.

If it wasn’t for Egil, we’d all be rotting in a ditch somewhere.

The man saved our asses.” Jarza chuckled, shaking his head.

“He did.

I still can’t wrap my head around it, though.

A bunch of lightly armed riders taking down a bigger, heavier cavalry force?I always knew he was good with horses, never thought he was that good however…Seems like living all your lives with horses tends to do that” After the battle, Alpheo had learned the full extent of Egil’s daring.

For an hour, Egil’s light cavalry had led the enemy heavy riders on a relentless chase, whittling them down with well-aimed javelins.

Once the enemy realized the trap, they tried to regroup and change course, but Egil’s riders splintered into smaller contingents, harassing them from every angle.

It was a tactic he’d secretly trained his men for, one Alpheo only became aware of during the raucous victory feast, where Egil’s boasts rang loud and clear.

By the time their javelins were spent, the enemy cavalry was scattered and weakened enough for a decisive charge, which Egil led with brutal efficiency.

Though he had lost half his riders, the result was undeniable-an elite force crippled, and a crucial flank secured.

Reflecting on it, Alpheo couldn’t decide whether Egil’s tactics were brilliance or recklessness.

Perhaps both.

Alpheo leaned back in his chair, the weight of the past days evident in his posture.

The faint candlelight flickered across his tired face, and he exhaled heavily, breaking the silence that hung between him and Jarza.

“We came close to losing, closer than I’d like to admit,” Alpheo said, his tone unguarded.

With anyone else, he might have deflected or softened the truth.

But with Jarza, there was no need for pretense.

Jarza leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, his eyes steady on Alpheo.

“I know,” he said plainly.

“But luck was on our side this time, and everything turned just right.

The men held.

Egil did what Egil does, whatever that is .

You made the right calls and even though we came close to lose, everyone will think that we had everything under control, and I believe we should act like that..” Alpheo let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.

“Luck seems too generous a word for the mess we were in.

Honestly, it felt like I was gambling with lives out there.The gods perhapse took us in simpathy” Jarza smirked faintly, his eyes narrowing with that familiar blend of sharpness and amusement.

“Three years, Alpheo.

I’ve followed you for three years.

In all that time, I’ve never seen you bow your head in prayer or pay even a passing thought to the gods.

I’m convinced you don’t believe in them at all.” Alpheo raised an eyebrow but said nothing against an accusation that could have him killed, letting Jarza continue.

“And yet,” Jarza went on, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a favorite of one of them.

How else do you explain our luck?

We’ve danced on the edge of ruin more times than I can count, but here we are-still standing, still winning.” For a moment, Alpheo didn’t respond, the words hanging in the air between them.

Finally, he scoffed lightly, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips.

“If that’s true, I hope they keep favoring us.

Because next time, I don’t think I’ll have enough left to roll the dice again.” Jarza had once been a devout follower of the Sun God, like so many in his homeland.

His youth had been spent in fervent prayer beneath the golden light, trusting in the divine warmth to guide his path.

But that faith had been tested, and ultimately shattered, when his prayers went unanswered once he became slave.  Then once he met Alpheo and fought alongside him with his freedom, he changed his religion to that of the five gods, as apparently the day before the rising he prayed to them for victory .A priest was easy to find from there , completing the blessing and ceremony to introduce him to the religion of the Empire.

And still now he carried a small token of the Five Gods-a polished disk etched with their symbols-tucked beneath his armor.

A soft shout on the wooden post outside the tent interrupted the quiet murmur of conversation between Alpheo and Jarza.  “Your Grace,” the soldier began, his voice steady but cautious.

“May I enter?” ”Go ahead” Soon the soldier pushed back the heavy canvas flap slightly, and bowed low.

“A messenger from the city has arrived.

He bears a request for parlay from the lord of the city.” Jarza let out a sharp scoff, turning to Alpheo “Parlay? I would have thought the countless refusals to surrender would have spoken loud enough.

” Alpheo remained silent for a moment, his sharp gaze falling to the floor as he tapped his fingers lightly on the table.  “Bring the messenger to me,” Alpheo said, his voice carrying the authority of decision.

The soldier bowed again and stepped back out of the tent, leaving the two men alone once more.

Jarza raised an eyebrow, studying his friend with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

“That’s a shift,” Jarza said, his tone half-questioning, half-probing.

“What’s changed?

Didn’t you say before the battle they’d get no audience?” Alpheo straightened, ” I am tired of receiving a messanger each day, It’s time to put my terms flat on the table,even though I am sure that the turn-cloak won’t like them ” he said simply with a small smile as he rose from the table, Jarza following behind, wondering what the hell was his friend and liege thinking about doing now.

—————- SO IN THE COMMENTS THERE ARE IMAGES TO HELP VISUALIZE THE SOLDIERS OF ALPHEO’S PRIVATE ARMY