Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 324

Chapter 324: Matters of diplomacy Chapter 324: Matters of diplomacy Lord Shahab watched as Alpheo settled himself into the chair opposite him, the prince’s movements deliberate and unhurried.

The room, warm with the glow of a midday sun filtering through the high windows, was quiet but for the faint sound of a servant pouring cider into Shahab’s cup.

The liquid glinted like molten gold, and the servant, with practiced grace, set the cup back in front of Shahab before moving to Alpheo’s side.

Without looking up, Alpheo raised a hand in refusal.

“Water,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for debate.

The servant hesitated, then gave a respectful nod, retreating to fetch the prince’s preferred drink.  It was peculiar, this meeting.

Ordinarily, the protocol would dictate that Shahab, as a lord, would present himself in Alpheo’s chambers at the prince’s request.

That Alpheo had sought him out for a private discussion here, in Shahab’s own quarters, was unusual courtly speaking …

Still Shahab had come to understand however that Alpheo’s adherence to courtly formalities was, at best, superficial.

The prince was no fool and certainly knew how to wield the game of pomp and protocol when it served his purpose, but in private matters among allies and family, he often stripped away the veneer of aristocratic pretense, finding his own ways much more efficient and quick.  The servant returned with a crystal carafe of cool water and a goblet, placing them carefully on the table before Alpheo.  Shahab leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

His expression was calm, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he spoke.

“Tell me, are you here to discuss matters of state, or is this one of those rare moments where we share a simple conversation as family?” Alpheo paused, his brow arching in mock surprise.

“That may very well be the first time I’ve heard you attempt a jest,” he remarked, his tone as dry as the desert winds.

Shahab allowed himself a small smile.

“I am a serious man” he replied with a slight incline of his head.

“I leave the entertaining to the bards and jesters.

They have a talent for such frivolities that I do not share.” “Indeed,” Alpheo said, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

He set his goblet down and leaned slightly forward, fixing Shahab with a sharp gaze.

“Then let us speak of matters more suited to your gravity.

Tell me, Shahab, since you took hold of the role of primus ministerium what achievements have you made in your line of work concerning the other princedoms?” Shahab lifted his goblet, taking a slow sip before setting it down with deliberate care.

“Not much, I fear,” he admitted, his tone steady but tinged with frustration.

“The other princes continue to steer clear of us.

None are willing to entertain interactions beyond the bare essentials, such as permitting merchants to pass through.

They keep us at arm’s length, some even going so far as to implicitly sneer at us for the common blood of our prince consort.

It seems your lineage is not as palatable to their lofty sensibilities.” In truth, much of a noble’s prestige stemmed from as much as their feat, as the blood coursing through their veins.

Their lineage was their badge of honor, and many leaned heavily on the legacies of their ancestors-particularly the founders of their noble houses-to bolster their standing.

Even minor branches of prominent families wielded their ancestry like a weapon, invoking names long dead to lend weight to their own.

So it was no surprise, nor was it beyond expectation, that the other princes held the new addition to the royal house of Veloni-Isha in disdain.

To them, the union was a stain, a tarnish upon what they saw as a sanctified lineage of nobility .

The mere thought of mingling their vaunted blood with that of commoners was anathema, and they would view Alpheo’s children as irrevocably tainted-lesser, in their eyes.

This was not a slight that would vanish with time.

Alpheo knew full well that the whispers of such disdain would echo into the future, likely haunting even his grandchildren.

Bloodlines were sacred currency in this world, and though right now his wife’s princedom was gaining momentum , the old guard clung stubbornly to their antiquated notions.

For now, their haughty sneers were as predictable as the sunrise.

“It would not surprise me if many among them harbor more than just disdain-envy is a likely undercurrent as well.

Our products have gained quite the reputation, after all and probably the only thing stopping them from banding together and marching toward us is the nominal protection of the Empire….” He leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp as he continued.

“A fair number of spies have been caught by Clio alone, attempting to uncover the secrets behind our manufacture of soap and cider.

Even the neighbors of our neighbors seem intent on prying into our methods.Of course all they got was shit from them…” Alpheo leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“Diplomatically speaking, we’re alone, Shahab,” he began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made his words feel like stone.

“And let’s not delude ourselves into thinking our situation will miraculously improve.

No, the future looks as gloomy as a storm cloud ready to burst.One small wrong step and we fall down the precipice.

Of course we have to change that , for if they won’t come to us, then we’ll have to pay them a visit ourselves.

Force the conversation, as it were.” Shahab tilted his head, intrigued despite himself.

“And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that?

Our neighbors seem quite content pretending we don’t exist.” Leaning forward, Alpheo’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing with a glint of mischief.

“Herculia,” he said simply.

“Herculia?” Shahab’s brow furrowed.

“Yes, Herculia,” Alpheo repeated, his tone deliberate.

“Our recent campaign didn’t just bruise their pride; it shattered their kneecaps.

They’re stumbling around like a drunken fool in a tavern fight, incapable of standing on their own legs.

Their defenses are in tatters, their coffers light, and their people…

in rebellion” Shahab set his cup down, leaning in.

“You’re suggesting we exploit their weakness?

Perhapse another campaign?” Alpheo’s smirk deepened.

“Unfortunately our current situation won’t allow another arm intervention.

I intend to send word to the Prince of Kakunia.

He has his own scores to settle with Herculia, and their current state offers an opportunity too delicious to ignore.

Together, we could orchestrate a dual offensive-time it right, and Herculia won’t just be weakened; but may even be partitioned .” Shahab leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered Alpheo’s words.

“And what,” he began, his tone measured, “prevents Kakunia from deciding to strike Herculia alone?

Surely, they see the opportunity as clearly as you do.

” Alpheo smiled faintly, unbothered by the question.

“Nothing,” he admitted with a shrug.

“We have no leverage to stop them if they choose to act alone.

But an open discussion about dividing Herculia-drawing clear borders for each party’s share-might pave the way for something more valuable than just a joint campaign.

It’s time we broke the status quo with someone, Shahab.

Kakunia’s as good a place to start as any.” Shahab tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully, but before he could reply, Alpheo leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

“That being said,” he continued, “if we’re to pursue this path, I’ll need someone capable to handle it.

A diplomat.

Unfortunately, in my mix, I have warriors, not silver-tongued courtiers.

Do you already have someone in mind?” Shahab allowed a small smile to tug at his lips, his tone light but pointed.

“Your Grace, any court worth its salt always has at least more than one diplomat among its courtiers.

Yes, I do have someone in mind” ”Very well we should arrange a meeting and prepare some gifts to give .

Let’s see if this candidate of yours can help us pull Kakunia into our corner.” He knew better than most the dangers of standing still in a world that never ceased to shift and turn.

In the theater of power, where alliances were forged and broken over a single word or gesture, to remain diplomatically isolated was akin to waiting for the tide to sweep you away.

The risk wasn’t just a hypothetical one-it was a certainty.

In his experience, the wounds dealt by a blade were often half of the havoc wrought by a few well-placed words.

A blade might cut through a man, but words could cleave through nations.

Right now, Yarzat was an island, surrounded by currents that could sweep it into irrelevance if it failed to move with purpose.

Other courts avoided them, disdained them even, and the silence was as ominous as any declaration of war.

Alpheo’s chest tightened at the thought; as the cost of doing nothing was far greater than the risks of action.

After all. if he was to receive an ugly defeat, nothing would stop all princedoms from uniting together and pushing into his borders, with their demands for peace being the exposure of the secret for the manufacture of soap and cider.

Alpheo’s gaze drifted toward Shahab again , his expression composed but his voice carrying a weight of expectation.

“What of Oizen?

Did our diplomats manage to convince them to extend the truce for another year?” Shahab’s face remained neutral, but the slight downturn of his lips betrayed his frustration.

He shook his head.

“No.

They wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

Our envoys weren’t allowed past the outer halls before their requests were flatly denied.” Alpheo closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his temples with slow deliberation.

A deep sigh escaped him, heavy with resignation.

“Of course they didn’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to Shahab, as he was well aware that their recent defeats hurt their pride more than anything.Which meant that next year they would have war once again on the doorsteps.

Luckily, he mused, the eastern prince will be preoccupied with his own troubles and won’t have the luxury of aiding Oizen.

That leaves only one adversary to face next year, always if war was to come.

The thought brought some solace, but it was fleeting.After all , Alpheo had planned after returning from the war against Herculia, to concentrate all of his effort into deal with the internal issues of the country, as he knew very well that a strenght of a nation was only measured by its armies.  With Oizen looming on the horizon, I’ll have to finish my internal plans far sooner than expected.

The idea was maddening as he hated doing half-ass jobs,for he believed that once he started something than he should put 110% of himself into seeing it done.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest as he stared at nothing in particular.

Just when I thought I could finally tend to the affairs of this crumbling princedom in relative peace, someone has to barge in and wrench that possibility away.