Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 385

Chapter 385: Confederation strategy(2) Chapter 385: Confederation strategy(2) When Alvarie first saw his bodyguards-the thirty well-paid men he had hired to ensure his safety-kneel to the ground and raise their empty hands in surrender, his mind struggled to process what he was witnessing.

These were the men he had chosen with care, paying more coin than he cared to admit .

And yet, here they were, throwing down their weapons without so much as a fight.

For a brief, desperate moment, he thought he might be imagining it, that perhaps the exhaustion of the journey or some unaccounted-for wine had clouded his mind.

But as the sharp tang of salt air filled his lungs and the distant cries of gulls pierced the quiet tension, reality settled in.

He hadn’t been betrayed by his senses.But instead by his men.

And, of course, when imagination faltered and cold reasoning took hold, only then did the storm of emotions erupt.

“You spineless, gutter-born bastards!” Alvarie roared, blood dripping from his chin where it had struck the wooden planks of the ship.

“The fight hasn’t even begun, and you’ve already sold me out?

Cowards!

Craven dogs!

Is your precious skin worth so much?

Hope you enjoy your chains-you’ll look splendid as slaves!” The pirates burst into laughter as they swiftly produced ropes, binding Alvarie’s bodyguards with practiced efficiency.

They joked amongst themselves, their taunts sharp and mocking.

“Didn’t even break a sweat!” one jeered, securing a guard’s wrists.

“Best haul of the week-no fight and still a full catch!” another quipped, tugging the knot tight and grinning at his mates.

Darron, one of the creweman of Blake, who was receintly given command over a ship , strode purposefully onto the boarded vessel, his boots thudding against the planks.

He surveyed the scene with a faint smirk, his eyes cold as they darted over the prisoners.

Suddendly Alvarie making use of the silence spat insult at his captured guards.

again ” Don’t expect me to ransom you-I wouldn’t waste a single coin on your sorry hides!” Darron’s attention shifted to the merchant, his smirk vanishing.

“Shut that fat fool up,” he ordered curtly, his tone sharp as a blade.

One of the pirates, a burly man with sunburned skin, nodded with a grin.

“Aye, Captain,” he said, stepping toward Alvarie.

Without hesitation, he delivered a hard slap to the back of the merchant’s head, sending him staggering forward.

“Quiet down, unless you’re thirsty for seawater,” the pirate growled, his voice low and full of menace.

The laughter around them only grew louder as Alvarie, bit back further insults under their mocking gazes.

This was Darron first week as the captain of a ship, it was a small ship true, with only forty men aboard, at least the one he commanded.

Even thought the dimension left to desire , he was happy altogether, as it was the culmination of years of loyalty and service to Lord Blake, a hard-won prize that cemented his place among the pirate small elitè .

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his scarred face as he barked orders.

“Alright, lads!

Routine check-make sure everything’s in order.

See what kind of cargo our merchant friend’s been hiding.

Move!” The pirates sprang into action, scattering across the ship to inspect its nooks and crannies.

Some climbed below deck to check the holds, while others rifled through barrels and crates stacked along the deck.

The creaking of wood and the rustling of goods filled the air as the minutes ticked by.

Before long, the men began to reappear, their expressions less eager than when they had first boarded.

One by one, they returned to Darron with the same bored look, their shoulders slumping in disappointment.

Darron leaned against the railing, tapping his fingers impatiently.

“Well?” he called out.

“No luck?” A broad-shouldered pirate with a crooked grin shook his head, hoisting a small sack onto his shoulder.

“It’s grain and barley.

Again,” he said with a dramatic sigh.

“Another load of grain,” one muttered, rolling a barrel toward the hold.

“Our ships are stuffed already.

There’s only so much a man can eat, you know.” “Aye,” another chimed in, tossing a sack of barley into the pile.

“Feels like we’ve been raiding floating pantries these days.

Where’s the gold?

The jewels?

Even a good cask of wine would make this worth it.” “Hope’s the last to die, they say.

Maybe next ship.” Darron, standing with his arms crossed listened to the conversation with an amused glint in his eye, and finally spoke up.

“You lot are raiding supply ships bound for the enemy, not some rich noble’s pleasure barge.

What were you expecting, treasure chests and silk?

This is war, lads.Jewels are for the riches, food is for the soldiers.” The crew chuckled at their captain’s jab, one pirate grinning as he replied, “Still, Captain.

Can’t help but dream.

Even war can spare a gem or two for us, eh?” Darron chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound that carried across the deck.

“Keep dreaming, then.

It’s free.

But for now, check if the other ships in our fleet have space for what we’ve got.

If they’re full, start tossing whatever we can’t carry overboard.

No sense in letting the enemy have it.” The men nodded and scattered to relay the orders.

A few minutes later, word returned: the other ships, all under the service of Blake were already packed to the brim with supplies.

“Alright, you heard me!” Darron barked, motioning toward the remaining barrels and sacks.

“To the fish it goes!” The pirates wasted no time.

Barrels were rolled to the edge of the ship, sacks hoisted and swung into the sea with casual abandon.

The sound of heavy containers splashing into the water echoed across the waves as the men worked efficiently, laughing and joking all the while.

“Maybe the fish’ll grow fat enough for us to catch,” one pirate joked, tossing another sack overboard.

“Or choke on all this barley,” another quipped, eliciting another round of laughter.

All of this was seen by the bounded Alvarie , who with his face pale and his eyes wide with despair watched barrel after sack after crate of grain, barley, and oats-his grain, barley, and oats-tumble over the edge and vanish into the sea.

He felt as if he could cry, which he did  It wasn’t a dignified cry, either; it was loud, pitiful, and uncontrollable, like a man who had just seen his life’s work torn apart before his very eyes.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, but there was nothing he could do but sob.

The pirates noticed, of course.

“Look at him!” one guffawed, elbowing his crewmate and pointing at Alvarie.

“Blubbering like a babe!” “Aye,” another chimed in, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

“You’d think we were tossing his firstborn overboard!” The laughter among the pirates ebbed as one of them approached Darron, “What about the others, Captain?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward the captured bodyguards huddled together.

Darron rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the pathetic group.

“No slave traders until this invasion’s over, and we sure as hell don’t have weeks’ worth of food to waste on idle mouths.

You know what to do.” The burly pirate nodded grimly, turning to his comrades.

“You heard the captain.

Over they go.” The men’s faces darkened as the pirates began hauling them up, dragging the struggling bodyguards toward the ship’s edge.

Cries of panic and pleas for mercy filled the air, blending with the creak of wood and the slap of waves against the hull.

“No!

Please, don’t do this!” one of the guards begged, clawing at the deck as he was dragged toward the edge.”We surrendered” Another, braver or perhaps just more desperate, managed to break free of the pirates’ grip .

He didn’t make it far before a pirate’s axe cleaved into his back, cutting his escape-and his life-short, much to the man real intention as he feared a death by drowning.

For the rest, their fate was less swift.

The pirates flung them overboard one by one, the men’s screams fading as the sea swallowed them whole.

The unlucky ones flailed in the water, gasping and sputtering as they struggled to stay afloat.  Alvarie, still on his knees and trembling with fear but alive , watched the scene unfold.

Tears streaked his cheeks as he bit his lip, trying not to sob out loud, as he feared that perhapse he was next .

His trembling only worsened when one of the pirates, a lanky man with a cruel smirk, sauntered up to him.

“You’re lucky, fat man,” the pirate sneered, crouching down to his eye level.

“You’re worth a ransom.

Otherwise, you’d be swimming with your boys right now.” He spat on the deck for emphasis before standing and walking away, leaving Alvarie shaking and clutching at his chest, his tears flowing freely now.

“All right, enough,” Darron finally barked, his voice cutting through the lingering sounds of misery and chaos.

“Clear it up.

We’ve got work to do.

Back to the ships.”  A pair of burly men grabbed Alvarie by the arms, hoisting the sobbing merchant to his feet as if he weighed nothing at all.

He struggled briefly but soon gave up, his face pale and resigned as they dragged him toward one of the pirate ships.

Others moved to secure the remaining survivors of the cargo vessel’s crew, who had been spared only because they had a use.

The pirates herded them together, shoving them toward the wheel and rigging, growling threats to keep them compliant.

“Follow us,” one of the pirates sneered, gesturing toward the pirate ship.

“Try anything funny, and we’ll toss you in after your friends.” A handful of pirates lingered at the edge of the merchant ship, that would be later normally sold , watching as the rest of the crew set about their grim task.  For the pirates, this was routine.

As countless more ships did the same, denying the Imperial fleet their grain at all costs.

And so, this raid was just one of many, part of a larger effort by the Confederation to choke the Empire’s supply lines and bait them into action