Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 251

Chapter 251: Words before swords Chapter 251: Words before swords Alpheo strode through the bustling expanse of his army’s camp, his boots crunching over the dry earth.

Around him, his soldiers worked with precision, setting up tents, digging trenches, and reworking wood into plank.

The air was alive with the clamor of hammers driving stakes, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional bark of an officer giving orders.

As he passed, men paused briefly from their tasks, straightening to salute their general.

Each raised hand or slight bow was met with a curt nod from Alpheo, his expression calm but focused, he would be lying if he did not admit he liked when people bowed to him as he passed.

The new likings however did not make him blind to the situation, though the soldiers showed little outward complaint, Alpheo could sense the undercurrent of resentment rippling through the camp.

It was no mystery why-victory bred satisfaction, and satisfaction bred reluctance.

For a soldier, the promise of plunder was often the only incentive for marching into battle, and the first month of this campaign had delivered that in spades.

The Battle of the Bleeding Plains and the subsequent fall of Arduronaven had been lucrative beyond expectation.

The coffers of the late Lord Vroghios alone held a staggering 12,000 silverii, and by custom, the soldiers were entitled to a fifth of that sum.

Each man received three silverii straightaway, and many had bolstered their share to ten or more with loot taken from the city beyond the lord’s keep, that much to thier happiness was declared was theirs to keep.

For men accustomed to living hand-to-mouth, the sudden weight of coin in their pouches dulled the desire to march.

After all, what use was risking their lives for more when they hadn’t even spent the spoils they already had?

When Alpheo announced that the army would be marching again, there had been grumbling in the ranks-low and bitter, though never loud enough to reach their commander’s ears.

There were even some deserters mostly among the lords’ levies, but soldiers were pragmatic creatures, and they knew that grumbling would do nothing to stop the inevitable, and along with that there was the fact that deserters were nailed alive on trees for the whole army to see making them cry in pain for days before thirst got to them, and by the next day everyone was ready to march once again.  He had no qualms about the punishment, after all, they were deserters, who believed they could just turn around after getting their pockets filled.

The spoils of Arduronaven had not only enriched the army but also Alpheo himself.

By the terms of his command, he was entitled to half of the loot from the campaign-a hefty prize given that his forces made up nearly half of the combined army.The army had even swelled in the aftermath, growing from 1,850 to nearly 1,950 thanks to the contributions of the newly sworn lords now sworn to Jasmine, his wife.

“The guides spoke true” Asag reported following behind breaking him from his reverie “There’s little in the way of water sources around here.

What we have in the barrels won’t last long.” Alpheo slowed his pace, turning to face him.

“And the nearest river?” “That would be at Confluendi, a good five days’ march from here,” Asag replied, his voice steady despite the weight of the statement.

Before Alpheo could respond, another voice joined the conversation.

“The nearest villages have wells,” Egil said, stepping closer with a shrug, “but they won’t be enough for all of us.

We’d drain them dry soon.” Alpheo’s gaze didn’t shift toward Egil.

Instead, he fixed his eyes firmly on Asag.

“Did you hear anyone speak, Asag?” he asked coolly, his tone cutting through the air like a blade.

Asag glanced briefly at Egil before straightening giving out a slight smile .

“No, commander.

I heard no one,” he said evenly,  Alpheo’s lips thinned as he resumed walking, pointedly ignoring Egil’s presence.

He hadn’t forgotten-or forgiven-the man’s recent escapade, disappearing with his detachment under the guise of rewarding the troops.

That reckless stunt had tested Alpheo’s patience and Egil knew that.

Egil let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh from behind.

“I never thought you could be this childish,” he muttered, his voice just loud enough to carry.

Alpheo stopped mid-stride, his shoulders tightening for a moment before he turned slightly toward Asag.

“Asag,” he said, his tone calm but sharp as glass, “tell the fly buzzing in my ear something for me.” Asag’s brows lifted slightly, but he inclined his head obediently, awaiting his commander’s words.

“Tell him,” Alpheo continued, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, “that leaving without authorization typically results in the commander being whipped in front of his troops.

Tell him that I, instead, had to cover for him-lie for him.

I told them I’d sent him out scouting, that his absence was under my orders.” His voice grew colder with each word.

“Tell him,” Alpheo added, his gaze now flicking over his shoulder, though it still didn’t settle on Egil, “that every time someone asked where he was, I had to swallow my pride and make up a lie over and over.

Because if they knew one of my commanders had disobeyed me so flagrantly, it would have made me look like a joke Asag glanced at Egil briefly, then back at Alpheo, his mouth tight as he was now clearly uncomfortable .

“Understood” he said.

Egil’s expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly crossed his arms and straightened.

“So dramatic” he said, though there was less bite in his voice this time.

Alpheo didn’t bother replying.

He turned back to his path, leaving Egil to stew in silence.

As Alpheo continued his stride, his thoughts turned toward logistics.

Bracum should still have a month’s worth of supply stored.

If we ration properly, it should be enough to see us through this siege, he calculated.

While the lack of a reliable water source gnawed at him,which would mean he would have to leave a contigent of man to guard the carriages that will bring them water.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he imagined Lechlian scrambling in the capital.

The poor fool must be working himself into a frenzy, fortifying Herculia like it’s the fourth Imperial Invasion.

Alpheo shook his head, picturing the prince barking orders, eyes wide with paranoia thinking that one day or the other an army would appear outside his city.

He thinks I’d be mad enough to march this rabble of half-fed and half-disciplined men straight to Herculia’s walls?

Not in this lifetime.

Alpheo had no intention of being the protagonist in another cautionary tale of military overreach, the previous battle was enough and he certainly was not in the mood to tease death once again.

Herculia, with its towering defenses and vast reserves, was a fortress that only a full, rested, and reinforced army could hope to breach.Perhapse next time he would try but for now making sure that Lechlian would not be able to pose a threat for the next few years was enough for him.

As they walked further through the camp, Alpheo turned his attention to Asag.

“What of the prisoners?

How are they faring under your watch?” Asag, ever diligent, gave a curt nod.

“They’ve been calm, my lord.

Surprisingly so.

Once word spread that we weren’t planning to sell them into slavery, most of them settled into their tasks without complaint.

Right now, they’re assisting with the grunt work-digging trenches, setting up additional camp fortifications, and hauling supplies.

Keeps them busy, at least.” Alpheo’s expression remained neutral, though his mind churned with possibilities.

Asag glanced sideways at him.

“And what do you plan to do with them in the long term?

Once the siege is done?” Alpheo stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“There will be a great deal of rebuilding and expansion to undertake in Yarzat,” he said, his voice steady but laced with intent.

“Roads, irrigation systems, fortifications-a whole network of infrastructure to strengthen our holdings.

Free labor will be invaluable for such projects.” He paused, his gaze distant as he weighed the options.

“Selling them is always a possibility,” Alpheo admitted, “but the coin we’d earn wouldn’t come close to the benefit of putting them to work for us.” He turned to Asag, his lips curling into a faint smile.

“Why sell the hammer when you have so many nails to drive in?” Asag nodded, understanding the pragmatism of his commander’s reasoning.

“Then I’ll see to it that they remain under control and productive.” “Good,” Alpheo replied, his tone sharp and decisive.

“Keep them in line.” As Alpheo paced back toward his command tent, his thoughts wandered to the capital city of Yarzat.

He knew it for what it was-a grimy, unkempt sprawl that stank of neglect.

The streets were a mess, narrow and choked with refuse, and the air carried the constant stench of unwashed bodies and stagnant water.

A place unworthy of its potential.

What it needed, Alpheo mused, was clean water-a proper aqueduct.

However, constructing it would require significant manpower and resources.

His mind turned to Marthio.

A letter asking for their expertise would suffice, especially with the promise of future favor as leverage.

Luckily the river isn’t far.

A few kilometers at most.

It’s doable.

With a river so close, it was a wonder no one had ever attempted it before, probably the lack of money was the reason .

But Alpheo had both money and the interest to do that, and the three hundred prisoners now at his disposal would ease the burden of the initial labor costs considerably.

Still, he knew better than to rely solely on slaves and prisoners of war.

While they were cost-effective, they wouldn’t be enough to build lasting goodwill.  By hiring local workers alongside the prisoners, Alpheo could introduce more currency into the economy, incentivizing it.

As he knew very well that many times the best type of wealth, isn’t that of hoarded coins but the amount held by the population.

A perfect example of that was Rome , where many emperors would start many public projects, many times being statues, gardens or bath-houses, which would be apart from a good way to increase their prestige and fame , would also a perfect solution for giving a push to the local economy and pacifying the population as the landless workers were the main beneficiaries of that.

One of the many reason that allowed Caesar to get into power, was in fact the political division and discontent among the people, many of whom were unemployed given the huge amount of slaves present in the capital.

So for many when an emperor decalred the starting construction for a public work , it basically meant some years of work for many of them through which to feed their families.