Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 451

Chapter 451: Strange people(2) Chapter 451: Strange people(2) The sun hung bright in the sky, its golden light spilling over the land like molten amber.

The chill of winter had begun to fade, replaced by the crisp, invigorating air of early spring.

The earth was waking.

Buds swelled on branches, the scent of damp soil and fresh grass filled the breeze, and the distant hum of insects foretold the coming bloom.

Down the well-trodden dirt road, a cart rolled steadily forward, its wooden wheels creaking in rhythm with the slow sway of its passengers.

It was an old thing, sturdy but weathered, its frame scarred by time and travel.

A single horse pulled it, a shaggy beast of brown and white, its thick winter coat beginning to shed in uneven tufts.

Seated atop the cart was an old man, his back straight despite his years, his hands steady on the reins.

His white beard flowed down to his chest, stark against his deep brown robes, which were thick with the dust of the road.

Around his neck hung a simple but unmistakable pendant-the Star of the Gods, its metal worn smooth by decades of wear.  Beside him, five boys sat in the back of the cart, their legs dangling over the side, their chatter a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

They were young-none older than thirteen-dressed in simple tunics belted at the waist, their hair tousled by the wind.

Each carried small bundles of supplies, parchments, and wooden tablets, their first tools for the task ahead.

They were his helpers, his apprentices.

Too young to be called priests, but old enough to learn.

The road stretched before them, leading toward the heart of the Vogondhai settlement, where the people of the tribe had made their home.

Smoke rose in the distance-cooking fires, forge bellows, the breath of a living, growing village.

Soon, this would be where they would build their temple.

Here, beneath the vast open sky, where the people of the tribe would hear the words of the gods.

The cart rolled to a slow stop before the wooden gates of the settlement, its wheels crunching over the dirt road one last time before settling into stillness.

Standing tall before it, flanking the entrance like sentinels of iron and discipline, were the men of the Prince’s private royal army.

Their wool-cloth, a striking contrast of white and black, marked them from miles away.Their armor gleamed in the sunlight, well-kept and polished, their hands resting with practiced ease on the pommels of their weapons As the old priest shifted in his seat, one of the soldiers stepped forward, his boots thudding lightly against the ground as he approached.

Behind him, the others remained in position, silent and watchful.

The priest turned to his young helpers, nodding for them to climb down first, and with careful movements, he followed, his old joints stiff from the journey.

His boots met the dirt, and as he straightened, he turned back toward the cart.

Reaching into the folds of his robes, he withdrew a single silverii.

With a kind smile, he extended it toward the cart driver, a wiry man with a weathered face and hands that bore the callouses of years spent on the road.

“I thank you for your service, my good man,” the priest said warmly.

The carter blinked in surprise before his lips curled into a grateful smile.

He dipped his head, taking the coin with a rough but careful hand.

“May the gods bless your path,father” he murmured, tucking the silver away before pulling on the reins.

With a creak and a lurch, the cart turned around, the horse trudging obediently in the opposite direction.

The priest watched it go for a moment before turning back to the approaching soldier.

The man, his posture rigid but not unfriendly, stopped a few paces away and gave a respectful nod.

“Welcome, priest,” he greeted, his voice steady and measured.

The old priest met his gaze, his own eyes warm with the weight of experience.

He inclined his head in return, his voice carrying the quiet strength of a man who had seen many years and walked many roads.

“And peace be upon you, soldier.” The soldier adjusted his stance, his gauntleted hand resting idly as he spoke, his tone even yet polite.

“I trust your voyage was peaceful?” The priest nodded, brushing some dust from the sleeves of his robe.

“Indeed, it was.

The road was long, but the gods watched over us.” He cast a glance toward his young helpers, who stood quietly behind him, their faces filled with curiosity as they observed the settlement before them.  The soldier gave a curt nod.

“You will be pleased to know that some men have already started laying the groundwork.

The word spread quickly that you were coming.” The priest arched an eyebrow.

“Oh?

Did they await us?” The soldier shrugged slightly.

“It was expected that someone would come sooner or later.

There are believers of the gods here after all .” At this, the priest’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“That is good to hear,” he said.

Then, after a brief pause, he added, “Amongst the heretics, at least.” At those words, the soldier’ gave him a long star.

The priest stroked his white beard as he walked beside the soldier, his sharp eyes scanning the settlement with interest.

The people here-both the native villagers and the newly settled tribesmen-moved about their business, casting the occasional glance his way.

He turned to the soldier, noting the stark white-and-black surcoat.

“Tell me, are you part of the White Army?” The soldier gave a short nod.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“In direct service to His Grace.” The priest hummed, folding his hands behind his back.

“Then perhaps you can answer a question that has been weighing on my mind.

Why is it that the royal standing army has been stationed as a garrison in this settlement?

Surely there are fortresses and duties that demand more pressing attention?” The soldier exhaled through his nose, adjusting his belt.

“I don’t know about all’that , all I know is that we are needed here.” he said.

“It’s about making sure the newcomers settle in properly, that there’s no trouble between them and the locals.

His Grace wants to ensure that both sides learn to live together without drawing steel at the first disagreement.” He smirked.

“Besides, it’s a sweet assignment, you don’t see me complaining .

No back-breaking drills, no sleeping after digging a muddy trench.

Just walking the streets, keeping an eye on things.

” His smirk faded slightly, and he let out a sigh.

“But it won’t last.

We’ve already heard that fresh recruits are being trained in the capital.

Once they’re ready, they’ll be sent here to take our place, and we’ll be off to wherever His Grace deems us most useful.” The priest clasped his hands together, tilting his head.

“A shame, truly.

A man should enjoy the peace while he has it.” He paused, then gestured towards the half-constructed temple in the distance.

“Perhaps, if you and your men are so free of hardship, you might find some time to help with the temple’s construction.

Strong hands are always welcome when building a house of the gods.” The soldier chuckled, shaking his head.

“Generous of you, but I’ll have to pass.

My duties lie elsewhere.

And besides, there are already workers handling that.

If anything, it’s them you should be thanking-no one forced them to help, and yet here they are, putting in the work.” The priest nodded, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

“A fair point.

I shall make sure they know their efforts are appreciated” The soldier leaned in just slightly.

“Watch yourself, father.

The peace we’ve had these past months?

I want it to last.Many of us are set for retirement , don’t cause no trouble.” For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Then, the priest gave a slow, measured nod.

“Peace,” he echoed, his voice calm.

“A noble thing to wish for.” With that, he turned and walked away, his young helpers trailing behind him, leaving the soldier standing at his post, watching him go.

As the priest and his young followers disappeared into the settlement, another soldier, clad in the same white-and-black cloth approached his comrade.

His gait was relaxed, but there was a questioning look in his eyes.

“Don’t you think you were a bit too harsh?” he asked, glancing after the departing priest.

“He’s an old man of the cloth, not some troublemaker.” The first soldier scoffed and spat onto the dirt.

“Holy man or not, I don’t trust their kind,” he muttered.

His jaw tightened as he turned to face his companion.

“You may not know , but I once went to a temple priest for help with my debts” His eyes darkened, and his voice took on a bitter edge.

“We both know how that ended; those bastards are filled with coins and they won’t even share it to save a family, my debt was of 12 silverii; they could have done something with all the coins they had.

Now it has been 4 years since I saw my family, tell me which of that was too harsh?” The second soldier shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. The temple had probably turned him away with empty words of patience and penance, leaving him to fend for himself when the debt collectors came knocking.

The first soldier exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Whatever happens,” he said, voice low and firm, “I’m going to retire soon.

And when I do, I want it to happen without us having to draw steel because some new feller with a star decided to stir things up.So make sure to watch him.”