Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 329

Chapter 329: Day of reckoning Chapter 329: Day of reckoning The day had finally arrived.

For over a month, Arnold had led a relentless war, crushing rebellion after rebellion , justice had been meted out, and the crown’s authority was steadily being restored to lands that had long since fallen into disarray and defiance.

Yet, as triumphant as these campaigns were, Arnold could not ignore the scars they left behind-scars etched deep into the countryside.

He had been among the first to witness the rebellion’s grim toll.

The charred remains of once-fertile fields, the hollowed shells of villages razed to the ground.

Even the few cultivated plots that had survived the initial uprising now lay in ruins, trampled underfoot by the very people who had once tilled them.

Still, amidst the ashes of devastation, Arnold found an unexpected boon.

Politically, the rebellion had worked in his favor , as much as he hating saying so , fortifying his reputation after the defeat he’d suffered against Egil, now known as Lord.

The sting of that loss had been compounded by his younger brother’s whispers, intended to tarnish Arnold’s name.

While the nobility had largely dismissed the rumors, attributing the failure to Lord Cretio’s poor leadership, the stories had found fertile ground among the common folk who would never waste an occasion to spread gossip about the royal family.

But now, with victory upon victory, Arnold had rewritten the narrative.

His relentless campaign had not only crushed the rebellion but restored his standing among both the nobles and the people, making his brother look like a fool.

The stain of Egil’s victory had been washed away in the flood of Arnold’s successes.

Why can’t he be more like Carnio , put , obedient and self-aware?.  He lampooned as he thought of his youngest brother , I had no qualms with him , he should have been content living as a lord after father died, now it looks like I can’t allow even that.

You brought this on yourself, you fool.

Yet, one final challenge remained.

One last rebel army stood between him and the complete pacification of the lands he was destined to inherit.

This was the final obstacle, the last piece of a war that had dragged on far too long.  Arnold stood before the rebel army, his gaze fixed on the forces arrayed against him.

This would be his seventh battle in the campaign, and up until now, he had no reason to believe it would differ much from the others.

But he had been wrong.

Where in the seven hells did they get all that armor and weaponry?

Arnold’s thoughts churned as his eyes tracked up the slope to the hills where his foes had entrenched themselves.

His brow furrowed at the sight of their front lines-men clad in helmets and what unmistakably appeared to be chainmail, their weapons gleaming even at a distance.

Something was off.

Deeply off.

His father could barely scrounge together enough chainmail to outfit 150 soldiers.

Even then, another 300 suits had been supplied by the prince of Nibadur, an ally whose motives Arnold still struggled to understand, which he had used to increase his numbers from 600 footmen to 800.

Why Nibadur would even bother arming us that generously is a question in itself, he thought.

But one thing was clear-there simply weren’t enough suits in circulation for the rebels to acquire such numbers.

The sight of so many armored men gnawed at Arnold’s mind.

This stinks of outside help.

Still, suspicions and questions wouldn’t change the hard reality of the field.

He was outnumbered, and the rebels had secured the high ground-a glaring disadvantage.

He drew a steadying breath, forcing the doubts to the back of his mind.

Whether this situation made sense or not, the battle loomed ahead, and he had no choice but to meet it head-on.

Arnold’s thoughts were interrupted by the rhythmic pounding of hooves, signaling the approach of a rider.

Turning, he saw Lord Cretio, his grizzled features framed by the dust kicked up by his mount, arriving with the scouts in tow.

Arnold eyed the older man with quiet scrutiny.

For someone who had been stripped of his command, Lord Cretio had accepted his demotion with surprising composure.

Arnold had expected more resistance.

but instead, the lord had carried on as if the decision was of no great consequence.

As Cretio reined in his horse, he bowed his head briefly before speaking, his voice steady.

“Your Grace, the fortifications are more extensive than expected.

They encircle the entire hilltop, with no apparent gaps from every position.” Arnold hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he glanced up toward the hills once again.

The stakes and trenches were clear even from a distance-a defensive masterpiece for a force of rebels.

After a moment’s silence, he turned back to Cretio.

“Do you think we could starve them out?

Force them to come down and meet us on even ground?” Cretio hesitated, his expression grave.

“It would be difficult to say, Your Grace.

Our own supply lines are thin as it is.

We have no reliable knowledge of how much the rebels have stockpiled up there.

For all we know, they could outlast us, or they might break in days.

Without proper knowledge, any guess I give would be meaningless.” Lord Cretio shifted in his saddle, his weathered eyes scanning the rebel-held hilltop once more.

“I must admit,” he said, his tone begrudging, “these rebels have shown remarkable foresight.

Their defenses are far from amateurish.” As he spoke, he cast a peculiar glance toward Arnold-an expression that lingered just a fraction too long to be casual.

Arnold caught the unspoken message instantly.

There was more to this rebellion than met the eye.

He didn’t need Cretio’s subtle cue to confirm what he had already been mulling over: someone else was orchestrating this.And all the arrow pointed at Yarzat, as after all they had the motive, the means and the interest to do such thing.

Yet they could not just go and attack them diplomatically , as after all they had no proof of that.And given their history, of which the princess of Yarzat had been the victim, diplomatically speaking , most would think of it as a means to throw shit at them and , as such the other prince won’t give it half a thought.

Arnold’s gaze followed Cretio’s to the fortifications sprawled across the hill.

The rebels had outdone themselves, truly.

Trenches carved into the earth ran in jagged lines along the slope, bristling with sharp stakes hammered into the dirt.

Behind those defenses, lines of men stood ready to take their weakened charge The high ground itself added another layer of misery to any attacker’s plans.

It rendered Arnold’s cavalry, the weapon that had shattered five of the last six rebel bands with devastating charges, utterly useless.

Charging uphill into entrenched spearmen would be tantamount to throwing lives away, and Arnold had no intention of wasting his men in such a reckless endeavor.

Arnold tilted his head back, studying the sky with a calculating gaze.

The sun still hung high, casting long shadows that crept across the uneven ground, but he knew better than to let optimism cloud his judgment.

There were still good hours of daylight left, but his instincts told him that forcing a battle today would be a mistake.

If they fought and lost, the consequences would be disastrous.

The army would be forced to retreat under the cover of darkness, their lines shattered and scattered, with no proper rendezvous point to regroup.

The rebels, emboldened by a victory, could pursue them, turning a tactical retreat into a full-scale rout.

No, they needed to be methodical, and it would do good for the soldier to rest .

Arnold turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he addressed the knights gathered nearby.

Most of them were minor lords, sworn to the crown and commanding levies of peasants and household guards as personal bodyguards.

“We make camp here,” he said firmly.

His voice carried the weight of command, and there was no room for argument.

” Tomorrow, we’ll reassess and take the field on our terms.” The men exchanged glances but offered no objection.

One by one, they nodded, their faces a mixture of relief and determination.They saluted briefly before turning to carry out the orders, their voices rising as they relayed commands to their own forces.

Arnold lingered on the crest of the hill as his officers dispersed, his sharp eyes fixed on the enemy lines sprawled across the high ground in the distance.

He let out a slow breath, the weight of the campaign pressing heavily on his shoulders.

This revolt had dragged on far too long, its fires reignited time and time again by scattered bands of dissidents emboldened by minor successes.

Now, he stood on the brink of what could either be its decisive end or yet another frustrating chapter in its relentless saga, as he knew very well that he was leading the only army that his father could have raised .

His mind churned, searching for a way to even the field.

A head-on assault against those fortifications would be suicide.

The trenches and palisades were designed to break the momentum of any attack, and with the rebels holding the high ground, their position was nearly unassailable.

Nothing came to mind, and yet he had to think of something.