Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 401

Chapter 401: Confusing news Chapter 401: Confusing news “It just doesn’t make any sense,” Alpheo muttered, his fingers rubbing against his temples as he leaned forward, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

No matter how much information he turned over in his mind, it simply didn’t add up.

He glanced at Shahab, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Are you sure this is reliable?” Shahab, sitting across from him with a slight frown, let out a long sigh, his frustration clear.

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t let his calm exterior crack.

“What could possibly make it false?What situation could have brought my informer to report this?” he asked, his voice carrying the hint of impatience that came with repeated explanations.

“This isn’t some wild rumor.

The information checks out.

I don’t see the point in doubting it.” Alpheo was unconvinced.

He leaned back in his chair, his posture tense, arms folded across his chest.

His sharp gaze darted between Shahab and Jasmine, who had been silent until now.

“I’m not questioning the core of it.

But maybe the dimensions were exaggerated.

Maybe the numbers are off,” Alpheo murmured, running his fingers over the surface of the desk.

His mind raced through possibilities, trying to make sense of what didn’t seem right.

“It doesn’t make sense that so many nobles, all at once, decided to turn into holy men.

I don’t buy that these greedy bastards suddenly found religion-let alone started donating so much to a foreign priest.

And for what?To allow them to build a temple?’ Right now, Alpheo, Jasmine, and Shahab were gathered in a dimly lit room, the heavy scent of aged paper and ink hanging in the air.

The only sound was the occasional crack of the fire in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.  Alpheo, leaning forward with furrowed brows, was clearly the most unsettled of the three.

His mind raced, spinning over the new information that Shahab had just delivered.

Shahab leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing in thought as he spoke.

“Of course, the priest isn’t a normal one,” he said, the weight of the words not lost on him.

“Apparently, he’s been traveling for years now, moving with a procession of men across the empire.

They’ve been building temples, hunting down bandits, and…

well, there are even stories of him curing people.

Miracles, you could say” Jasmine, who had been standing by the window, chuckled lightly, breaking the tension in the room.

“Is he planning on turning lead into gold next?

He seems like he wants to be an alchemist next ” she joked, raising an eyebrow as she clearly did not see a problem with it.

After all it was not hers the land they were giving away.

Alpheo ignored the jest, his face still serious as he answered, “He’s certainly something more than just a preacher.

How many people were following him?”   Shahab shrugged nonchalantly.

“No exact number.

They say there were as many as a thousand building the temple upon receiving the donation.

Right now they’re spread out across the land, taking down bandits upon their lands.” Alpheo’s fingers drummed softly on the edge of the table, his mind clicking into place.

“If they’re hunting down bandits,” he muttered, his voice low but edged with realization, “it means they’re armed.” His hand stopped abruptly, the rhythmic tapping ceasing as his thoughts crystallized.

For a moment, silence settled over the room-then his eyes darkened, and his voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

“Those bastards.” He exhaled sharply, his breath hissing through clenched teeth.

“They didn’t turn holy overnight,” he spat, voice thick with contempt.

“They bought themselves an army.” His gaze flickered between Shahab and Jasmine, burning with an anger that only deepened the more he spoke.

“That priest isn’t some wandering preacher spreading the will of the heavens.

No-he wanted land, and those fools gave it to him in exchange for steel.” Who the fuck does he want to be?

A pope?

Jasmine, watching him with narrowed eyes, finally spoke.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said, arms crossed, her voice laced with skepticism.

“Nobles don’t just hand over land, why would they willingly depart with it with a priest?” Alpheo let out a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head.

“Exactly,” he said, his tone dripping with scorn.

“Think about it-who are the ones making these donations?

The same nobles who refused to realign with the crown after the war with Herculia.” He jabbed a finger in the air, as if pointing at invisible conspirators.

“They’re the ones whose influence is shrinking, whose allies are vanishing.

The balance of power is shifting, and they know it.

They’re outmatched.” He took a step closer to the table, leaning forward, his hands pressing into the wood.

“And desperate men make desperate deals,” he growled.

“They weren’t donating land out of faith-they were making an investment.

That priest, his so-called followers?

They’re muscle.

A force strong enough to tip the scales if things turn to war.” Jasmine arched a brow.

“And they think they can control them?” Alpheo scoffed.

“They don’t need to.

The land is still technically theirs, and as long as that priest plays along.

If he ever refuses, they’ll just take it back by ganging up on him.” His jaw tightened.

“They think they’re being clever.” His fist slammed onto the table, making the wooden surface tremble.

“Those traitorous bastards,” he hissed, his voice low with barely restrained fury.

“They aren’t just scheming-they’re preparing for war.” The room fell into a heavy silence, the only sound the distant crackle of the fire.

The weight of his words pressed down on them all.

Shahab’s expression darkened, his mind clearly working through the implications.

Jasmine, though still skeptical, no longer looked dismissive-just troubled.

A civil war, after all was not something that one could scoff at.

Alpheo’s anger didn’t stem solely from the fact that, just when he thought he had gained the upper hand over the opposition lurking within his lands, the enemy had made a move that evened the playing field once again.

No, it wasn’t doubt that gnawed at him-he had no question that, if things escalated to war, he would win.

But war took time.

And time was the one thing he couldn’t afford.

Every wasted season gave his neighbors the opportunity to sharpen their claws, to rally their own forces, and to set the stage for yet another round of conflict.

What infuriated him most, however, was who they had handed power to.

A priest.

Unlike nobles, the clergy played by an entirely different set of rules.

Temple lands were untouchable.

They paid no taxes to the crown, and once granted, their holdings belonged solely to them.

Even he had no authority to reclaim them.

And unlike land bartered between nobles-where force, persuasion, or politics could change ownership-whatever the temples acquired stayed within their grasp, insulated by faith and tradition.

It wasn’t uncommon for merchants and nobles to offer up wealth to the temples in their final days, hoping to buy penance for a lifetime of sins.

But to Alpheo, it was nothing short of theft hidden beneath the veil of piety.

Land that could have fed villages, gold that could have bolstered armies, all sealed away in vaults and left to rot-hoarded by those who neither toiled nor bled for it.

And now, his enemies had taken advantage of that system, slipping their power into the hands of a priest where no blade or decree could touch it.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it.

Armies could be crushed, rulers could be overthrown, but if there was one force more powerful than steel and strategy, it was faith.

A leader excommunicated by the temples, which usually would meet in a council to decide on whether to go on with an excommunication, wasn’t just a man without divine favor-he was a walking corpse.

His lands became free for the taking, his rule a flame snuffed out overnight.

Rivals wouldn’t even need to justify their conquest; seizing his territory would carry no stain of treason, no political repercussions.

And worse, his own people might turn against him, unwilling to risk damnation by following a ruler cursed by the gods.

Even the mighty emperors of Romelia had been wary of angering the priesthood.

Now and then, during times of national crisis, they borrowed gold from the temples-of course, only when circumstances made it convenient for the clergy to look the other way.

But for the most part, the priestly class was left untouched, their wealth and influence preserved like sacred relics.

It was an unspoken law of power: rulers ruled, but temples endured.

And that was what made this situation so maddening.

Because now, his enemies had hidden themselves within the one institution he could not afford to challenge.

Alpheo exhaled slowly, steadying the storm within his mind.

Perhaps it was time to stop treating this as a game of reaction and start playing his way.

The old network of informants, scattered and unreliable, wouldn’t be enough anymore.

No, he needed something more-something organized, something disciplined.

It’s time we start working on a real spy network.

His fingers tapped against the table once before he turned to Shahab, his expression sharpening like a blade being honed.

“Can you send men from the court-lawful ones, scribes, tax officers, all the usual bureaucratic bastards?

To have them conduct a full census of every property that was handed over.

And tell them to pay close attention to the number of armed men under that priest.” His voice darkened.

“I want an exact count.

As for the reason for that …..” he thought about it a bit ”Make it to be a simple investigation to see the number of property of each village, as to set it with a legal base.” Shahab nodded without hesitation, already mentally selecting the men for the task.

“It can be done” Jasmine, who had been listening quietly until now, leaned forward,as she asked.

“If this turns into a civil war… do you think you can win with the cards you have?” Alpheo met her gaze with a slow, confident smirk.

“Of course,” he said smoothly.

“It’ll be no problem.” But even as he spoke, his mind whispered a single, unspoken caveat.

As long as I only have to fight them.