Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 380

Chapter 380: A new life Chapter 380: A new life It’s happening,Alpheo shouted in his mind, his heart pounding as he paced back and forth in the long hallway outside his wife’s room.

His boots struck the polished stone floor in a rhythmic pattern, but there was nothing rhythmic about the turmoil in his chest.

The shouts of pain from inside the room pierced through the heavy oak door, filling the air and his ears with an intensity that made him feel pain between the legs too.

He had taken every precaution he could, ensuring that the midwives washed their hands meticulously with soap, that all the towels were disinfected, and that the room was prepared with the utmost care.

Yet, despite his best efforts, he knew just how high the risks were for an infant.

The fear lingered like a shadow, slipping into his mind as easily as water pouring from a cracked pot.

The entire palace buzzed, like a hive stirred into frenzy.

Courtiers whispered in hushed tones, servants scurried through corridors with wide eyes and hurried steps, and even the guards at their posts seemed tenser than usual.

The birth of a firstborn to the royal family was an event of monumental importance-not just for the family but for the entire state Yet behind the outward displays of preparation and reverence, fear brewed.

Everyone from the lowest servant to the courtiers understood how volatile those in power could be in moments of great stress.

A single misstep-spilled wine, a misplaced word-could bring wrath down upon them like a storm.

So, they moved carefully, heads down, hoping to remain invisible until the ordeal was over.

Outside the birthing chamber, Prince Alpheo paced relentlessly.He wasn’t alone, though his companions wisely chose silence over conversation.

Even Egil the most jovial of the company kept his mouth shut.

Seated along the edges of the hall, Alpheo’s trusted circle of advisors and friends watched him with a mix of sympathy and unease.

These were the men who would ride into battle with him, plot strategy at his side, and drink to their victories late into the night.

But tonight, they sat quietly, offering no jests or reassurances.  Each of them understood the gravity of the situation.

Childbirth, even for royalty, was a perilous affair.

Many infants never took their first breath, and of those who did, a significant number failed to survive the fragile days that followed.

None dared voice such thoughts aloud, but they lingered, unspoken, in the tense air around them.

When he finally got enough of walking around, Alpheo finally took his seat, bringing his thumb to his mouth and biting it.Asag, who was the closest at his side, said nothing but just caressed his back in a circular motion as a way to reassure him .

Suddenly, the muffled cries from the other room ceased after a long, raw scream of pain, and a piercing wail of an infant broke through the tense silence.

Alpheo froze , his heart racing.

The hallway seemed to hold its breath as he stared at the door, willing it to open.

Moments later, the eldest midwife emerged, her face calm despite the long hours.

She bowed deeply, her hands folded in front of her.

“How are they?” Alpheo asked, his voice betraying the nervous energy still gripping him.

“A healthy male, Your Grace,” the midwife replied with a soft smile.

“He has a strong cry and seems to be in excellent health.” Alpheo exhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his face.

“And the princess?

How is she?” “She is tired, as expected,” the midwife said gently, “but she is well.

Both mother and child are safe.” Relief washed over Alpheo, and he let out a long, steady breath.

His shoulders relaxed, and the tension that had gripped him for hours finally dissolved.

Behind him, his closest companions-Jarza, Egil, Asag, Clio, and Laedio-stood from their seats, their expressions softening.

Jarza stepped forward first, clapping Alpheo’s shoulder with a wide grin.

“Congratulations, A son and heir!

The gods smile on you today.” “Congratulations” Egil added with a respectful nod, more serious than he had ever been.

“Truly wonderful news,” Clio chimed in, offering a smile.

“Thank you,” Alpheo murmured, his voice tinged with emotion.

He glanced back at the door before nodding to his friends.

“Thank you all.” Straightening his tunic, Alpheo pushed the door open, ready to meet his new family and take in the sight of his wife and child.

Alpheo entered the room quietly, his eyes immediately settling on his wife, Jasmine, who was resting in the bed, still looking a little flushed but radiant with the glow of motherhood.

Her tired eyes met his, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched him approach.

Her hair was disheveled, but her expression held a quiet strength, and Alpheo could see the depth of her exhaustion.

Beside her, a small bundle lay in the crook of her arm, wrapped in soft linens crying.

Shahab stood to the side, respectfully allowing the moment to pass, but he cast a proud glance at his new grand-grandson.

Jasmine took a deep breath, her eyes closing briefly as she gathered her strength.

Slowly, she extended her arm, the child cradled in her hands as if it was a prize of war.

Her voice was soft but steady as she spoke, “Here, Our son.” Alpheo’s heart swelled as he stepped forward.

The sight of his newborn child-his flesh and blood-was more than he had imagined.

His hands, at first unsure, gently took the bundle from Jasmine’s arms, his smile growing as he held the child.

He marveled at the tiny fingers that curled instinctively around his hand.

His son.

The baby’s cries had softened into contented little coos, his small chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.

Alpheo’s heart clenched at the miracle in his arms, and his eyes filled with a tenderness he had never known before.

“He’s perfect,” Alpheo whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes never leaving his son.

His hands trembled slightly as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms, overwhelmed by the depth of the moment.

Jasmine, despite her exhaustion, let out a small, soft laugh.

The sound was light and melodic, as though the weariness had no power to dampen her joy.

Her gaze lingered on the baby, the tenderness in her eyes unmistakable.

“Of course he’s perfect,” she replied with a hint of amusement, her voice warm and full of love.

“I made him.” Alpheo smiled at her words, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. After a moment, he rocked the baby gently, savoring the stillness of the moment before speaking again.

“Well,” Jasmine began, her smile barely contained as a playful glint danced in her eyes.

“Are we going ahead with the name we discussed?” Alpheo chuckled, his smile widening.

“Of course.

Unless you’d prefer to name him Arkwatt instead.” Jasmine raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head.

“The name we agreed on is more than good enough.

May that name die with him. I wouldn’t want him carrying my father’s name.The last thing I want is for my child to be like him.” Alpheo nodded in understanding, forgetting for a moment that he was the one who killed his father.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly both at the decision and the fact that father and daughter held no love for each other, as if they did, his bid for power would have been much more difficult.

“Basil,” he said, the name spoken with both certainty and tenderness.

“His name shall be Basil.” Jasmine’s eyes glistened as she smiled, a deep, contented smile that reached all the way to her heart.

“Basil,” she repeated softly, as if testing the sound of it.

Her voice was filled with quiet joy, a note of wonder in the way she spoke her son’s name.

“It suits him perfectly.” Who knows, perhaps he will accomplish the same feats as the one he is named after, Alpheo thought with a smile.

With that thought, the child was then carefully passed into Shahab’s hands, the older man’s face softening with a smile that spoke of years of patience.

He cradled the newborn carefully, gazing down at him with a tenderness that only a grand-grandfather could possess.

“I’ve waited years for a moment like this,” he said, his voice rich with emotion.

“Though I always thought I’d be holding my grandson, not my grand-grandson.” Alpheo chuckled lightly, watching his father’s joy.

“Better late than never,” he remarked with a small, teasing smile.

Shahab gave a soft nod, agreeing.

“Indeed,” he replied, his voice thick with affection for his new blood.

Jasmine, still lying in bed, let out a small chuckle too, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

“It’s good that the family is growing,” she said, her voice soft, but the weariness in it was undeniable, ‘Especially after the slaughter for the throne…she thought with her eyes closed as she remembered the two weeks in which half of her family was killed to make sure there were no loose ends…

As the moments passed, Jasmine shifted slightly, her fatigue finally catching up with her.

“I think I’m tired,” she murmured, looking at Alpheo  “I want to sleep now.Everyone get out.” Alpheo nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her.

“Of course, rest,” he said gently, turning toward the midwife who was still standing by.

“Take Basil,” he instructed, his voice calm The midwife took the child carefully, her hands steady as she moved towards the small crib beside the bed.

As she passed, Alpheo caught a brief glimpse of the bloodied sheets, a reminder of the labor and the pain Jasmine had endured.

Yet, her eyes were already beginning to close, too tired to even concern herself with changing the bed.

The room gradually emptied, the soft murmurs of the midwives leaving Jasmine alone with her thoughts.

The air felt still, quiet, and heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

Jasmine’s eyelids fluttered shut, surrendering to the exhaustion that had long since settled in her bones.

An heir was now born.