Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 377

Chapter 377: Sour end Chapter 377: Sour end The Herculeian army advanced across the open plains .

The sun glinted off their polished armor, casting dazzling reflections as ranks of soldiers moved in unison.

Banners bearing the royal crest fluttered in the breeze,more proudly than ever before .  The soldiers marched with a relaxed ease, the satisfaction of loot gleaming in their eyes.

It wasn’t the lavish rewards that Yarzat’s soldier had during the campaing of few months ago , but for the peasants-turned-soldiers, it was more than enough to make the journey worthwhile.

Their pockets were fuller than when they left, and that made the harsh roads and long marches seem a little less grueling.

But their duty was far from over.

Ahead lay the looming twin fortresses, their ancient stone walls standing as silent sentinels.

The rebels had been driven from the fields, but the real prize still stood tall between them and the capital.

With those fortresses in any enemy hands, the royal capital was as exposed as a child after a bath, left wide open to whatever came next.

Half-surrounded by Yarzat-held lands, the capital was ripe for a siege-a siege that would be as swift and inevitable as a rainbow after a storm.

Arnold rode at the head of the column, his horse’s steady pace reflecting his outward calm.

But within, his mind churned with uneasy thoughts.

They dared to rise so close to our seat of power, he reflected, his jaw tightening at the audacity of the rebels, as much as it lacked any potential harm directly to the capital, it was still a heavy blow against the image of his father.  His thoughts darkened further as he considered the stakes.

If I had lost that battle…

He dared not complete the thought, but the image was unavoidable-a princedom without any power to raise anymore soldiers, the capital isolated, ready for the taking of the Small Fox , and the rebels emboldened.

The consequences of failure would have been catastrophic.

But he had not failed.

He allowed himself a small measure of relief as he scanned the horizon, the first of the twin fortress coming to his eyes.

Now, I can leisurely put an end to this revolt, he thought, his grip tightening on the reins as his horse carried him forward.

These fortresses will fall, and with them, the last embers of rebellion.Still I wonder why they besieged it, it isn’t after all a priority for a band of starving peasants, perhaps I was right in my earlier assessment and that man was really behind it all.  Arnold squinted into the horizon, his sharp eyes catching the first glimpse of the fortress of Stitz.

Its stone walls rose defiantly against the flat expanse of the plains.

As the distance closed, he could make out the details of its towers, their silhouettes etched against the light of the sky.

Satisfied with the progress of the march, Arnold raised his hand, signaling for the army to halt.

“We make camp here,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying over the din of marching soldiers.

A chorus of orders followed, the men falling into their well-rehearsed routine of setting up tents, lighting fires, and preparing for the next day’s siege.

Arnold was in the midst of instructing his officers-outlining positions for the vanguard and discussing supply lines-when the sound of hooves galloping across the plains pulled his attention.

A single scout, dust-covered and clearly in a rush, was riding hard toward the command group.

The scout dismounted in a fluid motion, his boots hitting the ground with a thud.

Dropping to one knee before Arnold, he bowed his head in deference.

“Your Grace,” the scout began, his voice tight with urgency, “I bring news.” Arnold’s gaze narrowed, his tone calm but edged with authority.

“Speak.

What have you to report?” The scout lifted his head slightly, his expression grim.

“The fortress, Your Grace-it flies the banner of House Veloni-Isha.” For a moment, the sky seemed to fell on Arnold’s head.

——————- I knew it, Arnold seethed, his lips curling in disdain as he stood before the fortress.

“That snake.

This has his stench all over it.

Why else would a mob of filthy peasants think they could besiege a fortress?”  Victory should have been sweet, a triumph to savor.

But now, standing here, staring at the banner fluttering mockingly above the ramparts, the taste had turned bitter.

The sigil was unmistakable: a falcon surrounded by six closed fists, the emblem of House Veloni-Isha.

A deep, weary sigh escaped his lips as he studied the symbol.

This fortress was ours two weeks ago, he muttered under his breath, his tone dark.

Now it’s a nest of vipers.

Arnold’s eyes scanned the fortress walls, his trained gaze trying to piece together the defenses.

From this distance, the number of soldiers manning the stronghold was hard to determine, but there was enough movement to suggest a well-organized garrison.

I can’t tell how many men they’ve got up there, he thought, frustration gnawing at him.

But can 600 footmen be enough to take it?

The sharp reality of his situation clawed at the edges of his mind.

Starving them out wasn’t even worth considering.

We’d break before they did.

Damn it all.And I still have another castle after this Arnold clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he awaited the enemy commander.

The creaking of the castle gates echoed through the air, cutting through the stillness of the plain.

Slowly, a small party emerged-a knight flanked by five men, all mounted and clad in chainmail and breasplates that glinted dully under the overcast sky.

They advanced at a steady pace, their formation tight and deliberate, a clear signal that this was a parlay, not an assault.

Arnold sat atop his horse, his expression composed but his thoughts keenly alert.

His own retinue of riders, equally armed and ready, stood to either side of him.

They didn’t move as the enemy delegation closed the distance, the tension between the two groups as taut as a drawn bowstring.

When the two parties were within speaking range, one of Arnold’s men urged his horse forward.

Clearing his throat, the herald’s voice rang out confidently: “You stand before Lord Arnold, eldest son of His Grace, the Prince of Herculia.” The enemy knight pulled on his reins, halting his steed a respectful distance away.

Dipping his head in a small but deliberate bow, he answered, his voice calm yet edged with defiance.

“I am Sir Aldemar of Veloni-Isha, sworn knight and commander of this garrison.” Arnold straightened in his saddle, fixing the knight with an imperious stare.

“You’ve come a long way from Yarzat, Sir Aldemar.

Yet here you are, firmly planted on Herculia’s soil.

You are quite far from your homeland, aren’t you?” The knight’s expression remained calm, though a faint smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

“I am exactly where I ought to be, Lord Arnold.

This land now falls under the dominion of Her Grace, Jasmine Veloni-Isha.” Arnold’s eyes narrowed, his tone laced with disdain.

“Does it now?

And pray tell, how does one come to such a claim over a fortress so deep within Herculia’s borders?” Aldemar’s smirk faded, replaced by an air of unshakable resolve.

“By right of conquest, my lord.” Arnold leaned forward in his saddle, his hands gripping the reins tightly.

“We received news that this castle was conquered by rebels?Did my scouts report wrong, sir?

The knight shook his head slowly, his voice calm but deliberate.

“No, my lord, this castle was conquered by them .

It seems your previous garrison wasn’t as diligent as they ought to have been, they have lost the castles, which we now hold as we took it from the thieves and bandits that held it.

” Arnold straightened in his saddle, his voice ringing with authority as he delivered his ultimatum.

“Sir Aldemar, hear me well.

This fortress lies within Herculia’s borders, and it is the property of the Herculean crown.

You and your garrison will vacate it immediately, or you will face the full force of our army.

This is not a negotiation.” Aldemar met Arnold’s stern gaze, his expression unyielding as he shook his head.

“With all respect, my lord, you are mistaken.

This is no longer Herculia’s land.

It is now Yarzat’s, claimed and secured in the name of Her Grace Jasmine Veloni-Isha.

It is my duty to defend it, and I will do so, even at the cost of my life.” The knight leaned forward slightly, a hint of grim satisfaction in his tone.

“Though I suspect such a cost will not be necessary.

From the numbers you’ve brought, it seems clear that my garrison has the advantage.

We have ample men, fortified walls, and stores of food to endure whatever challenge you might present.” Arnold’s jaw tightened, but Aldemar pressed on, his voice steady and unwavering.

“We are at war, Lord Arnold.

And until Her Grace commands otherwise, we remain loyal subjects in service to the crown.

It is not my place to question her orders, nor to relinquish land that has been lawfully taken in her name.If you wish for it, then you should first enter in negotiation with her grace, as I have no power to relinquish it.” The knight’s gaze sharpened, his tone growing more defiant.

“So, by all means, throw your men at these walls.

Let them batter themselves against stone and steel.

We will be here to greet them-and to ensure that none pass through.

I can assure you that by the end of it the stones of the walls will be painted red….” With that, Aldemar inclined his head in a final, deliberate bow.

“Good day, my lord.” Before Arnold could muster a reply, Aldemar turned his horse with military precision, his retinue following suit.

Without waiting for further words, the Yarzat knight spurred his mount toward the open gate of the fortress.

The heavy wooden doors creaked shut behind him with an echoing finality, leaving Arnold to stare at the sealed fortifications, his fury simmering beneath a calm facade.

In the end, it was to come down to a siege.