Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 374

Chapter 374: Playing the game(2) Chapter 374: Playing the game(2) “Are you out of your mind?” Gregor roared, his voice booming through the tent as he slammed both hands onto the table, rattling the goblets and maps spread across it.

His face was flushed with anger, his piercing eyes locked on Niketas as if trying to bore a hole through him.

“Giving land to a priest?

This is your grand solution?

Weakening ourselves-disgracing our ancestors?

For what?Engracing ourselves with the gods?’Did you commit that many sins?’ The other lords exchanged uneasy glances, their silence thick with tension.

Some shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others busied themselves by staring down at the table.

None dared speak up just yet, their expressions caught between contemplation and doubt.

Gregor’s temper flared further as he took in their silence, his disbelief mounting.

He leaned forward, his fists clenched on the table’s edge.

“Why aren’t any of you saying anything?

You can’t possibly agree with this nonsense!

For gods’ sake, say something!

Have you all gone deaf-or worse, blind to the insult this would bring to our houses?” Still, the room held its quiet, the weight of Gregor’s words colliding with the unspoken thoughts of the others.

Biting their inner cheeks, they stared at the table, seemingly lost in their own considerations.

Niketas, for his part, remained calm, letting Gregor’s anger run its course without interruption.

The stillness only served to fan Gregor’s fury.

“By all the gods, don’t tell me you’re seriously contemplating this!” He threw up his hands, looking from one lord to the next, seeking a single ally in his outrage.

“Have we truly come to this?

Surrendering what our ancestors fought and bled for to some wandering priest?” “How many men are we talking about here?” Lord Lysandros finally broke the silence, his tone measured as he ignored Gregor’s fiery glare.

The room seemed to exhale at his words, the tension loosening just enough for Niketas to seize the moment.

“Twelve hundred men,” Niketas replied smoothly, his voice carrying an air of calculated confidence.

“Along with ninety knights, all sworn to serve under him.

Their vows of poverty mean they won’t cost him anything in upkeep.

All we’d need to do is equip the rest of them, and we’d have another army ready at our side should things escalate to open conflict.” He leaned forward slightly, gauging the room’s reaction, his prepared response flowing seamlessly as though he had anticipated this very question.

Niketas leaned back slightly in his chair, a thin smile playing on his lips as he continued, “Every one of the men who follow him carries an unshakable fervor for his cause.

That kind of devotion makes them fight harder, endure longer, and obey without question.

If he commands it, they’ll march into fire itself.Which is honestly the most similar to the quality of the damn army of that mercenary.” The lord of Corgendaue, who had been quietly listening until now, furrowed his brows and interjected, “And how exactly do you know that he will fight for us?

Fervor or not, they have no use for us unless they march onto war ” Niketas met Eurenis’ gaze, unflinching.

“Because I’ve spoken with him,” he admitted calmly “I met with the priest during his travels through my lands.

It became clear to me that he’s not just some wandering priest.

He’s a man on a mission-one to form a land where the grace of the gods is not merely respected but followed as law by all, starting with the one who rules over the flock.In short he want to rule over lands.” The room grew quiet, save for the faint rustling of the tent in the breeze.

“And how does that help us?” Gregor demanded, his earlier anger simmering just below the surface.

Niketas turned to him, his voice unwavering.

“Because I broached the subject of his quest with him.

I asked him outright what he would be willing to do to achieve such a vision.

His answer was simple: some sacrifices may be necessary.

Even if that means spilling blood.” A heavy silence followed his words, the implication hanging thick in the air.

For a moment, no one spoke, their minds racing as they weighed the gravity of the proposition.

Lord Corvan leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he spoke with measured precision.

“What ensures us, lord Niketas, that after receiving these lands, this priest and his zealots will actually fight with us when the time comes?

A man driven by divine purpose is often blind to practical loyalties.” Niketas allowed a small smile to cross his lips, as if he had anticipated the question all along.

“Well Lord Corvan, I have thought much about it and the solution would be in the lands we propose to grant him .

They would be carefully chosen-sandwiched squarely between our own territories.

If war were to break out, they would find themselves surrounded by our domains, with no path of retreat.

Unless he wants his fields scorched and his people starved, he will have no choice but to align with us.” “That’s a rather flimsy assurance, don’t you think?” Corvan interjected, his voice laced with skepticism.

“They’ve marched through the Empire for months, with nothing at their back to support them.

What’s to stop them from doing it again, leaving us with nothing but empty promises?” Niketas sighed, the weight of the situation reflected in his furrowed brow.

“I understand your concerns, Corvan, truly.

But this is the best option we have given our circumstances.” His tone was firm yet measured, carrying an air of reluctant resignation.

He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Corvan’s.

“We can debate the risks and flaws all day, but the reality remains: we don’t have a better choice.

Elyos and his followers bring numbers, fervor, and a cause that binds them.

They are the only significant counterweight we can muster to offset the Crown’s growing power.

Unfortunately, this is the solution we must employ to level the playing field.

There is no alternative, not one that doesn’t leave us more vulnerable than we already are.” The room fell silent, the other lords exchanging uneasy glances.

Niketas pressed on, his voice now carrying a sharper edge.

“I won’t pretend this is without risk.

But ask yourselves-do you see another path forward?

Can any of you offer a plan that gives us even a fraction of the strength that they can bring?” Gregor slammed his fist on the table, his face flushed with anger.

“Do any of you have even a shred of shame?

Parting with the lands our ancestors fought, bled, and died for?

Lands that were entrusted to us, their heirs?

And for what?

To give it to a wandering priest and his ragged band of zealots?” He scanned the room, his glare bouncing from one lord to the next.

“What benefit, I ask, will we gain from carving away pieces of our inheritance?

What do we get in return for betraying the legacy we’ve been sworn to uphold?” Niketas leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled before him.

His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable edge of urgency.

“We’re not parting with our lands for nothing, Gregor.

We’re preparing for a war-a possible war-against the Crown.

Should we win, we’ll have the leverage to force the Crown to relinquish their monopolies over soap and cider.

Think of what that means: wealth pouring into our coffers instead of theirs.

The benefits will far outweigh the cost of a small sacrifice now.” Gregor’s lips curled into a sneer.

“That’s assuming we even go to war.

This is all just speculation, Niketas.

You’re asking us to gamble with our birthrights on a vague possibility.” Niketas straightened, his gaze hardening as he leaned forward.

“Perhaps it’s not as vague as you think, Gregor.

Look around.

The Crown grows stronger with every passing day.

Their armies swell, their coffers overflow, and their influence stretches further into our domains.

If we wait much longer, there may not be an ‘if.’ The princess and her mercenary husband will take what they want, and we’ll be too weak to stop them.

Who know if the situation is good; perhaps they will not be the one to initiate it.Thingkabout it if we had the means to sell cider and soap on our own, how much silver we will be able to get.With it , that low cur managed to raise a force of a thousand men all year’s around, imagine what we could use it for instead.” Niketas spread his hands, his tone steady yet firm, as though trying to guide a restless horse back into the barn.

“Look, the land we’d part with is little, especially when divided between the four of us.

Truly, how much land does a mere few thousand souls need to survive?

A modest parcel, at best.

We won’t even notice the difference in our vast holdings.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning the gathered lords, searching for a flicker of agreement.

“Think about it-such a small cost for such a substantial gain.

For a sliver of our land, we gain a thousand fighters ready to stand beside us.

Zealots, no less, who will fight harder and longer than any soldier we could hire.” Niketas allowed the weight of his argument to sink in, his voice gaining a sharper edge.

“This isn’t charity, my lords.

It’s strategy.

For a pittance, we gain a force that could tip the balance in our favor when the time comes.

And make no mistake-the time will come.” His gaze shifted to Gregor, who still wore a scowl.

“You worry about losing what your ancestors passed down, but what legacy will remain if we let the Crown grow unchecked?

A sliver of land is a small price to pay for the security of everything else we hold dear.” The tent fell silent, save for the faint rustling of the wind outside, as the other lords mulled over Niketas’ words.

Even Gregor, for all his grumbling, seemed to hesitate, his scowl softening into a look of reluctant consideration, for after all, a thousand more men could change any battle from defeat to victory.