Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 300

Chapter 300: Favors Chapter 300: Favors The streets of Yarzat buzzed with life, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the stone buildings and cobbled roads.

Merchants shouted their wares, and children darted between carts, their laughter echoing through the air.

Amid the bustle, two men walked with measured purpose, their heavy boots clinking against the stones.

Lucius adjusted the weight of his breastplate, the polished steel gleaming faintly over his chainmail.

Beside him, Marcus strode with less composure, his scowl dark as thunderclouds.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Marcus growled, his voice low but laced with fury.

He shot Lucius a glare that could have cut through their armor.

“If you want to die, fine.

Go do it alone.

Don’t drag me into this madness.” Lucius sighed, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Are you done?” “No,” Marcus snapped, his tone sharper.

“I am not done.

Next year, Lucius.

Next.

Bloody.

Year.

We were going to retire!

Land, a little farm, a good life-gone, because you couldn’t keep your damned mouth shut and just stay content as a sergeant, you had to poke the bear and then throw me toward it .” Lucius turned to look at him, his expression calm but firm.

“It’s not just my mouth, Marcus, our prince chose us”  Marcus threw his hands up.

“Oh, of course!

The prince!

You’ve got to impress him, don’t you?He chose you,not me. Meanwhile, I’ve got to haul my ass to some godsforsaken backwater with you, where peasants are sticking pitchforks into anyone wearing armor!” Lucius glanced over at Marcus, his brow furrowing slightly.

“The prince gave me the job, Marcus.

I couldn’t exactly refuse him.” Marcus threw his hands up in mock surrender.

“Oh, I know that,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“But what I find a bit hard to believe is that he also decided I should come along for the ride.

Funny, considering I wasn’t called into the palace like you were, as a matter of fact does he even know my name?

Of course he does because you bastard told him.” Lucius kept walking, his lips pressed into a thin line as he turned his head slightly away.

Marcus leaned forward, his tone low and accusatory.

“You volunteered me, didn’t you?

Don’t bother denying it.

I knew it the moment you told me about this damned mission.” Lucius stopped abruptly and turned to face him “Does that sound familiar to you?” Marcus blinked, momentarily taken aback before narrowing his eyes.

“That’s different,” he growled.

“Back then, we succeeded, didn’t we?

And we were rewarded for it!

I got promoted, you got promoted, and we walked out of that mess alive.Was that not a favor I did you?” Lucius folded his arms, his voice calm but firm.

” But I didn’t know we’d succeed when you pushed me on my back when the prince called for twenty volunteers.

And neither did you.

Now that it’s the other way around, you’re crying about it.” Marcus opened his mouth to retort, but no words came.

His jaw tightened, and his scowl deepened as he tried thinking of somethign ”Well when I pushed you, you grabbed my arm so you paid that back!You still owe me ” Lucius took that as the end of the argument and turned back to the road.

“You sow…” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Marcus to hear.

As the conversation was cut short the two reached the end of the road where the great iron-bound gates of Yarzat loomed ahead.

The guards stationed there straightened at the sight of them, their eyes scanning the chainmail and breastplates that marked them as soldiers of the White Army.

One of the guards nodded in greeting.  Marcus and Lucius exchanged it with a nod of their own With a wave of a hand, the heavy gate began to creak open, its mechanisms groaning as the massive wooden doors swung outward, revealing the world beyond the city walls.

As the gates opened, Lucius and Marcus saw a cloaked figure leaning casually against the outer frame.

The man pushed himself upright and turned toward them, his face partially obscured by the deep hood of his weathered cloak.

“You’re the ones heading out, then?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying a hint of impatience.

Lucius gave him a once-over and nodded.

“We are.” “Good,” the man said, gesturing down the road.

“Follow me.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking away from the gates, his boots crunching against the dirt path.

Lucius exchanged a brief glance with Marcus, who rolled his eyes but fell in step beside him.

The two followed the cloaked figure into the open expanse of the countryside.

After a few moments of silence, Lucius cleared his throat.

“Are you coming with us on this mission?” The man didn’t slow his stride or turn to face him, but his voice carried back to them easily.

“Everything you need to know will be explained soon enough,” he replied cryptically.

Marcus muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed, but he said nothing more as they continued down the road, the city walls fading into the distance behind them.

The hooded man led Lucius and Marcus toward a cluster of three carts stationed just off the road.

Each cart was harnessed to a team of four sturdy horses, their breaths steaming in the morning chill.

The carts were covered with thick canvas tarps, fastened securely with ropes to protect their contents.

Stopping in front of the first cart, the hooded man gestured to it.

“This one holds food and other provisions.

” He moved to the second cart, rapping his knuckles lightly against the side.

“Weapons and spare equipment” Finally, he pointed to the last cart.

“Armor” Lucius’s gaze shifted to a group of ten men standing nearby on horseback, all dressed in light chainmail with short swords and shields slung across their backs.

The hooded man nodded toward them.

“These are your guards.

They’ll accompany you and ensure the safety of the supplies.

They are under your orders and will obey your commands.” Lucius took a moment to size up the men, then turned back to the hooded figure.

“And what about you?

Are you coming with us?” The man shook his head, his hood swaying slightly.

“No.

My role is to oversee the supplies.

I’ll remain here and organize additional shipments as needed.

” Lucius frowned.

“How exactly are we supposed to stay in contact with you?” A faint smirk tugged at the corners of the man’s lips.

“That’s my concern, not yours.

You’ll hear from me when the time comes.” The smirk disappeared as he shifted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

His voice sharpened.

“Now listen carefully.

I know you’ve been briefed, but I’ll repeat it for clarity.

The first contact is everything-get it wrong, and we might as well burn the supplies where they stand.” Lucius remained silent, his focus unwavering, while Marcus looked away, scowling faintly.

“The group you’re looking for,” the hooded man continued, “is a minor band of rebels led by a peasant.

Approach them cautiously.

Let them take the lead so you don’t appear hostile.

When the moment is right, you’ll deliver the message: your backer-whose name or identity must never be mentioned-is prepared to provide support.

Food, weapons, armor…

whatever they need.” Lucius nodded, his expression serious.

“We understand the importance of this.

We’re ready.” The man’s eyes shifted between Lucius and Marcus, lingering on each of them in turn.

“We’ll see if you’re ready soon enough.” He straightened and gestured toward the carts.

“Now go.

Time is a luxury we don’t have.

The sooner you leave, the sooner we’ll know if this venture bears fruit.” Lucius gave a crisp nod, but Marcus lingered, muttering under his breath as he adjusted his sword belt.

The hooded man ignored the grumbling, turning his attention back to the carts as Lucius and Marcus began their departure.

With that, the man stepped aside, gesturing toward the road ahead.

Lucius tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, gave Marcus a glance that said they were officially committed, and turned to signal the guards to get moving.

The group departed with a creak of wheels and the rhythmic clatter of horseshoes on the dirt road.

The three carts rolled in single file, each flanked by guards who kept their weapons close, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble.

Marcus stood beside Lucius on the lead cart, his usual scowl fixed firmly in place, as the coacher led the horse forward with his rein.

As the caravan settled into a steady pace, Marcus glanced at Lucius and broke the tense silence.

“If we die out here, I swear to every god above, I’m dragging you down to hell with me.” Lucius didn’t even turn his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You can go there alone.

I’m a pious man.

My place is in the heavens.” Marcus snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, I know.

That’s exactly why I said I’d drag you.

If I’m stuck down there, I’m not letting you enjoy some pearly-gate paradise while I’m roasting.” “You’ve got a twisted sense of justice.” “Call it what you want,” Marcus grumbled.

“Just keep your prayers handy.

I might need you to pull some divine strings when things inevitably go south.I had one too many whores to go up…”