Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 286

Chapter 286: New encounters Chapter 286: New encounters The morning sun gleamed off the polished armor of the fifty Golden Steeds, the elite crown knights of Alpheo’s personal retinue.

Their formation was pristine, their banners snapping crisply in the breeze.

The royal house’s banner-a deep blue field adorned with a golden falcon-towered high above the group, marking the presence of the crown.

Ahead of the knights, on horseback, were Alpheo, Egil, and the other companions of theirs.

Alpheo’s cloak rippled behind him as he adjusted his reins, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

Egil, by contrast, shifted restlessly in his saddle, his expression sour.

“This is ridiculous,” Egil grumbled, rubbing at his temple.

“We could have just welcomed her in the palace.

All this pomp out here-it’s absurd.” Alpheo turned his head toward Egil, a grin tugging at his lips.

Without warning, he leaned over and delivered a playful punch to Egil’s shoulder.

“Egil,” Alpheo said, his voice teasing but firm, “this isn’t just anyone we’re welcoming.

It’s your wife.

You have to make a good impression.” Egil snorted, straightening in his saddle as he rubbed his shoulder.

“The wife someone forced onto me,” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the distant road.

“Not exactly the joyous reunion of lovers, is it?” Alpheo adjusted the reins of his horse, as he changed topic “So, have you given any thought to your dynasty name now that you’re a lord?

Or your banners?” Egil didn’t hesitate, his gaze fixed ahead, his voice steady.

“My dynasty name will be Shakzai, after my home tribe.

My banner,” he added after a brief pause, “will be a horse on a white field.” The group fell silent, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Alpheo exchanged a brief glance with the others.

It wasn’t just about a name or a banner-they all knew that Egil’s original tribe was that of the Shakzai.

Finally, Clio broke the silence, voice soft but sincere.

“They’re good choices, Egil,” he said, his tone carrying a rare note of solemnity as an akward silence entered in the group Luckily as if saving them the silence was interrupted by the sound of wheels crunching against the gravel road.

Turning toward the noise, they saw the carriages approaching, their polished wood gleaming under the sunlight, the royal house’s sigil displayed prominently on the sides.

The procession came to a halt near the gathered riders.

A knight, clad in courtly finery, dismounted and approached the first carriage, his steps measured and deliberate.

He opened the door and extended a gloved hand.

From within, a girl stepped out with hesitant grace.

Her long brown hair flowed freely, catching the light, though her demeanor betrayed her unease.

She smoothed her modest gown nervously as her feet met the ground, her gaze darting between the assembled riders and the imposing city gates.

As the girl moved forward, her awkwardness was apparent in her careful steps.

She seemed unsure of what was expected of her, her eyes searching the group for any sign of familiarity-or for the man who would be her husband.

Alpheo nudged Egil lightly, a faint smile curving his lips.

“Welcome to your new life, Egil.

Meet…Vaeloria Arduronaven.”  The girl-Vaeloria-finally lifted her eyes fully, and for the first time, they landed on Egil.

Egil sat tall in his saddle, his blonde hair falling to his neck in loose waves that swayed with the breeze.

His strong chin and sharp eyes gave him the air of a man accustomed to command, his presence as striking as an eagle in the sky.

Vaeloria, standing before him, dared to meet his gaze for only a few seconds before her eyes fell to the ground, her expression unreadable.

Alpheo, catching the moment, chuckled softly, elbowing Egil.

The lord responded with a bemused sigh before dismounting.

His boots crunched against the gravel as he strode toward Vaeloria.

Without a word, he extended his hand, his grip firm yet careful as he guided her closer.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her hand in a chivalrous gesture that drew a small gasp from her.

“Come,” Egil said as he helped her onto his horse with practiced ease.

Vaeloria settled herself, looking uncertain and out of place atop the tall steed.

Egil tilted his head, a faint grin playing on his lips.

“You know how to ride, don’t you?” “A bit,” she admitted softly, her voice barely carrying over the sounds of the gathered company.

Egil nodded, seemingly satisfied.

In one fluid motion, he mounted the horse behind her, his presence a steadying force as they rode forward together.

The horse moved at an easy pace, Vaeloria visibly stiff as she adjusted to the unfamiliar situation.

The others exchanged knowing looks, their expressions ranging from amusement to quiet contemplation,as they now understood how come Egil’s was so good with the opposite sex even before having been granted a knighthood.

The procession trotted steadily through the city gates, the Golden Steeds forming an impressive guard at both the front and rear of the entourage.

Their polished armor gleamed in the midday sun, banners of the royal house rippling with every step of their horses.

The streets of Yarzat came alive with the rustle of movement as townsfolk paused their tasks to watch the noble company pass.

Heads bowed in respect, murmurs rippled through the crowd, and children peered from behind their mothers’ skirts, wide-eyed at the regal display.

Vaeloria sat atop Egil’s horse, her posture stiff but her gaze roving with curiosity.

Her eyes lingered on the bustling market stalls, the colorful banners fluttering from windows, and the cobblestone streets worn smooth by countless travelers.  Egil’s voice broke through the rhythmic clatter of hooves.

“First time in Yarzat?” he asked, his tone casual as he held the reins with practiced ease.

Vaeloria turned her head slightly, her long brown hair catching a brief glint of sunlight.

Her cheeks flushed with a faint pink as she replied softly, her voice nearly lost in the surrounding noise.

“Yes, my lord.” Egil arched a brow, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Not too overwhelming, I hope?” Vaeloria hesitated, her eyes darting to the bustling streets before her.

“It is…

different from what I know,” she admitted.

Then, as if forgetting herself for a moment, she added, “The smell, however…” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Realizing her mistake, her eyes widened, and she stammered quickly towards the prince, “I-I apologize, your grace, I did not mean….” She dared to glance at him, expecting sharp rebuke or perhaps a cutting remark from the man she had heard so much about-the man who had defeated a force twice his size, humiliated the Herculeian prince, conquered her hometown, executed her father, and reduced her noble house to ruin.

But as her gaze met his, she was startled.

Alpheo wasn’t what she imagined.

She had expected a figure who radiated an almost oppressive authority, someone domineering and larger than life.

Instead, she found herself looking at a young man, ordinary in appearance but carrying himself with a quiet confidence that was far more disarming than she expected.

Egil chuckled as he answered her statement in the place of the prince, a low and warm sound that felt strangely out of place given the stories of his ruthlessness during his raids onto Lechlian’s land .

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” he said with a small shrug.

“Not that it will remain long.

You must have noticed the construction outside the city?” Vaeloria blinked, then nodded hesitantly.

“The smell,” Egil continued, “is something our noble prince has taken to fighting with ambition.

He decided to follow the example of the Imperials, commissioning an aqueduct-or so they’re called.

Seems their engineering is worth mimicking, at least in his eyes.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his unexpected lightness.

Still, she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her sleeve, unsure of how to respond.

Her shyness hung in the air like a fragile veil, and Egil seemed content not to press her further, letting the conversation settle naturally.

For a moment, Vaeloria’s eyes wandered back to the streets.

She felt the weight of her circumstances once more, a reminder that despite her current calm, she was in the company of the very man responsible for her family’s downfall.Yet his companion Egil, oblivious or indifferent to her inner turmoil, nudged his horse onward with the confidence of someone accustomed to being in control, a faint smile still playing on his lips.

Alpheo tilted his head, his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity.

“So,” he began, a teasing lilt in his voice, “when is this grand marriage going to happen?

I hope you’re not expecting me to plan it for you.” Egil let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Not quite yet,” he replied.

“There’s something I must do first-something important.

I still have to go on the hunt.” “The hunt?” Alpheo asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned slightly forward on his horse, intrigued.

Egil nodded, his expression growing more serious.

“In my tribe,” he explained, “before any man can marry, he must hunt an animal and present it to his bride.

It’s a tradition that symbolizes providing for her and proving his worth as a husband.” His gaze shifted to the horizon before continuing.

“The groom goes alone, except for two companions-one who acts as his chosen brother, and another who stands in the place of a father.” Alpheo straightened, the significance of Egil’s words dawning on him.

Egil’s voice softened as he looked directly at Alpheo.

“I’d like to invite you to join me as my brother, Alpheo.

And I’d ask Jarza to join me too” The declaration hung in the air for a moment, a rare earnestness settling over the group.

Egil then turned his gaze to the others-Asag, Clio, and Laedio.

A flicker of apology crossed his face as he said, “You know I care for each of you as my brothers too.

You’ve fought beside me, bled beside me, and I value you more than words can say.

But for this…

Alpheo is the one I wish to honor.” There was a brief pause before Asag, ever the first to break tension, gave a sly grin.

“Well, we’ll just have to drink in your honor twice as hard while you’re off proving yourself.” Clio and Laedio both nodded, the faintest traces of smiles on their faces.

Alpheo, meanwhile, allowed a small smirk to play on his lips as he gave Egil an approving nod.

Alpheo inclined his head slightly toward Egil, his expression sincere.

“Thank you for the honor, Egil.

It means a great deal to me.

Of course, I have my duties to attend to, but…” he paused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “I’m sure I can carve out some time.

How could I refuse something so important?” Egil’s face lit up with gratitude, and the moment was sealed with a firm nod from both men.

————————— “Absolutely not.” The sharpness of Jasmine’s voice echoed through the chamber of the palace, the finality of her tone unmistakable.

She stood at the center of the room, her hands on her hips, her gaze drilling into Alpheo.

Alpheo stood near a table strewn with letters and reports, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Egil, who had joined the discussion, remained near the door, shifting uncomfortably, clearly unused to witnessing royal disputes.

Jasmine’s fiery gaze moved to Egil for a moment before snapping back to Alpheo.

“You are a prince now!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with exasperation.

“You can’t just gallop off into the wilderness on a whim, especially not without proper protection.” Alpheo opened his mouth to speak, but Jasmine cut him off, pointing a finger at him.

“Do you honestly think there won’t be people plotting the moment they hear you’re wandering around alone in some forest?

No guards, no defenses?

Do you think they’ll just politely let you go about your quaint tribal traditions?” Egil cleared his throat, attempting to offer some defense, but Jasmine’s stern expression silenced him.

Jasmine crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering.

“You want to go on this hunt?

Fine,” she said, her tone brokering no argument.

“But you’ll take eighty of my knights with you as guards, and you will not take unnecessary risks.” Alpheo let out an exasperated sigh, straightening to his full height.

“Eighty?

That’s not a hunt; it’s a royal procession!

I’ll take five, no more.” His voice was firm, laced with a hint of irritation.

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed.

“Five?

You might as well send them home and wave a banner telling everyone to take their best shot.

We are not hassling.It’s either that or you won’t go” Egil glanced between them, trying to stay invisible, but the weight of the standoff was palpable.

Finally, after a long moment, Alpheo exhaled deeply and broke his gaze, lowering his head in reluctant acceptance.

“Fine,” he said, his voice quieter as he resigned the victory to his wife.