Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 355

Chapter 355: Deal(1) Chapter 355: Deal(1) Marcus sat on the cold, uneven ground, his back pressed against a gnarled tree trunk.

His clothes were torn and dirty, and a weariness hung over him like a cloud.

Beside him, Lucius sat cross-legged, his face shadowed with guilt that seemed heavier than the pack he carried.

“We really fucked up,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together to ward off the creeping chill of the evening air.

Lucius exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“It’s my fault.

We should’ve escaped sooner.

I kept thinking there was more time, that we could still win.

If I’d acted faster…

we’d be home by now.They say perseverance is a virtue, but it seemed to be the opposite to us” Marcus turned his head, his expression firm despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“That was not perseverance, but stubbornness.

Still , it doesn’t matter now, Lucius.

What’s done is done.

We’re in this together.

Always were, always will be.I don’t fault with our situation, everyone make mistakes don’t worry.” Lucius didn’t respond immediately.

He simply nodded, though the guilt didn’t lift from his features.

The rebel band had been on the move for a week and a half, a slow and desperate march through dense forests and uneven terrain.

Each night, the sound of footsteps slipping away into the dark became more frequent as men and women deserted in ones and twos.

Their numbers had dwindled to just 430 now, a ragged amount of the force they’d started with, as soon as the food started to go down, people with their family tried their luck alone.

They are probably dead by now…, Lucius thought, as after all they would have to first cross the forest, hope not to get caught by the pursuing army, and hope to find a village that not only had not been pillaged but that was willing to part with some food.

Food supplies were in fact nearly exhausted.

The stale bread and dried meat had been rationed to crumbs, and the last of the supplies would barely see them through another day.

Hunger gnawed at their bellies, making tempers flare and morale sink further.

Marcus and Lucius had no choice but to stay with the crumbling remnants of the rebels.

Every step felt heavier than the last, and the growing despair was palpable, a weight they all carried.They both knew whose was at fault and it was kind of Marcus not to point it out, as many other would had.

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the encampment.

He chewed on his lip, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Finally, he turned to Lucius, his voice low and uncertain.

“Do you think he’ll…

you know…” He hesitated, then raised a trembling hand to his neck and made a slicing motion.

Lucius’s head snapped toward Marcus, his face a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

“Don’t be ridiculous.

Inor needs us alive.

We’re his only leverage.

He’s not stupid enough to kill the only bargaining chip he has; without us, he has nothing, not that he has much now.

I don’t think he realizes how little of a value we are and that he is holding low cards right now .” Marcus shook his head, his expression growing darker.

“I didn’t mean Inor.” The words hung in the air like a heavy fog.

Lucius’s breath hitched, and he stared at Marcus, his face pale.

“Gods forbid,” he said sharply, shaking his head.

“I refuse to believe he would do something like that to his own men.

To us, we marched with him since the sands of Arlania, that must be worth something.” Marcus leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper.

“He’s a monarch now, Lucius.

That changes things.

Remember what he said when we took this job?

Leave no trace.

No loose ends.

It would make more sense for him to…than not to, you surely realize that.

We became an inconvenience ” He trailed off, his throat tightening at the thought, because even as he tried to fight his case, he still understood he was choosing to see the darker side of their already pitch-black situation Lucius clenched his fists, his voice trembling but resolute.

“No.

No, that’s not who he is.

He wouldn’t; he even gave me a gift for my marriage, some bottles of cider and soap-those things that only the nobles have, you really think that such a man would do something so terrible to his men?To those that he walked to freedome with?” Marcus sighed heavily, his eyes dropping to the dirt.

“I hope you’re right, I truly do.

But the only thing we can do now is pray that he’ll have mercy on his men.

On us.” Lucius didn’t respond.

He turned away, staring into the flickering shadows of the campfire, his jaw tight with worry and doubt, as he shuddered as Marcus’ words starting to make sense.

While they were deep into their discussion much to the guard’s displeasures who wanted some quiet, a shadowed figure suddendly approached one of the watchmen standing near them.

The man leaned in close, whispering something urgent while gesturing toward Marcus and Lucius.

 His eyes flicked over to the two men sitting near the dying fire, narrowing with suspicion.

He adjusted the spear in his hand and began walking toward them with measured steps.

“Get up,” the watchman barked, his voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

Marcus and Lucius exchanged a wary glance but obeyed, their movements slow as they rose to their feet.

“What’s this about?” Lucius asked, trying to keep his tone steady despite the apprehension coiling in his chest.

The watchman’s lips curled into a faint sneer.

“Inor wants to see you.

Now.” Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“What for?” “Did I ask you to talk?” the watchman snapped, his hand tightening on the shaft of his spear.

“Move.It’s already bad enough I am stuck looking after you two” Without another word, he turned on his heel and motioned for them to follow.

Marcus and Lucius hesitated for a heartbeat before falling in line, their steps heavy with dread as they were led deeper into the rebel camp, toward whatever fate awaited them.

Marcus and Lucius trudged through the dimly lit camp,  The state of the rebel camp was impossible to ignore.

Gaunt faces peered out from beneath tattered cloaks, eyes sunken and hollow from days of hunger.

A woman sat near a smoldering fire, cradling a child who whimpered faintly.

Nearby, a cluster of men argued in hushed tones over a strip of dried meat, their voices sharp with tension.

A few rebels sat bashing stones together as entertainment with what little strength they had left, their movements sluggish.

Others huddled in small groups, muttering grievances or staring blankly at the ground.

The sense of defeat was palpable even by one without hands ; the once-defiant spirit of the rebels now ground down to a weary silence.

Marcus nudged Lucius and gestured subtly around him describing what even a little child could have noticed “They’re on their last legs,” he murmured.

”Silence there!” the watchemen shouted hearing talks behind him as he continued walking on The center of the camp was slightly more lively, though not by much.

A large fire crackled, casting flickering shadows over the weary faces that surrounded it.

At the heart of it all sat Inor, his expression grim and his hands clutching a dented metal cup that he occasionally brought to his lips, it was one of the things that they had looted inside the fortress of Stitz , a silver-gilded cup that the enemy commander drank from and that Inor had taken as spoil.  Opposite him, seated on a roughly hewn log, was a man whose presence seemed oddly calm amidst the despair of the camp. He was lean and sharp-eyed, his dark cloak draped carefully to conceal much of his frame.

His posture was too composed, too at odds with his sorrounding.

Lucius felt his heart skip a beat as he recognized the man.

He was the same individual they had encountered at the start of their mission-a courier, or so he had claimed then .

The man’s gaze shifted, locking onto Lucius and Marcus as they approached.

His expression didn’t change, but there was an unmistakable spark of recognition in his eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he studied them like a predator sizing up prey, this time he was without hood, which showed his facial characteristics to all who had eyes.

And by all means, he was an average-looking man, without anything worth noticing, no scar, nor characteristics worth observing.

He was the literal definition of bland.  Marcus leaned slightly toward Lucius, muttering under his breath, “You know him?” Lucius nodded, his voice tight.

“We’ve met him already, he must be here for us.” Inor’s eyes scanned Marcus and Lucius .

He took in their disheveled forms-the dirt-streaked faces, the hollowed cheeks, the weariness etched into every line of their bodies.

A flicker of something-contempt, perhaps, or pity-crossed his face before his mouth twisted into a faint, humorless smile.

“Here they are,” Inor said, his voice carrying the same weariness that seemed to suffuse the entire camp.

He gestured loosely toward Marcus and Lucius, addressing the man across the fire.

“As you can see, they’re well enough.

I’ve ensured they’ve been looked after.They have been given no harm as our guests” The man on the other side of the flames leaned back slightly, letting his gaze linger on the two captives.

“A bit gaunted, wouldn’t you say?

I suppose they have not eaten very well.Though I can see they aren’t the only one ” His voice was smooth, almost teasing, but there was a coldness to it that made Lucius’s stomach twist.

Inor let out a low, humorless chuckle, leaning forward to warm his hands by the fire.

“Food has been…

a scarce commodity as of late.” He gestured vaguely around the camp, where the gaunt, sunken faces of his remaining soldiers told the story he didn’t need to voice.

“We’d really like to receive some before we begin the…

talks, of course.” The man across the fire arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Naturally,” he murmured, though his tone made it clear he found Inor’s plight both amusing and pathetic, or perhapse he was smiling at something else all together.