Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 462

Chapter 462: Going forward Chapter 462: Going forward Alpheo sat in a private chamber deep within the palace, the air thick with the weight of dread, surrounded by the people whose counsel counted for him.

Yet even they seemed at a loss, their expressions grim as they absorbed the gravity of the news.

No one dared to voice the obvious: this was a disaster.

A party affiliated with the crown-more or less-had killed a priest.

Under normal circumstances, that alone would have been a scandal.

But the fact that the perpetrators were unbelievers?

That made it a diplomatic catastrophe of the highest order.

For a long moment, silence reigned, heavy and suffocating, as if the sheer act of speaking might summon the storm that loomed on the horizon.

Finally, Alpheo exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the stillness like a blade.

He straightened in his seat, his sharp eyes scanning the room before he broke the silence.

“It seems,” he began, his voice measured but laced with an undercurrent of frustration, “that the fucking dead priest was the first to strike.

According to the report, he set fire to the Vogondai altars, and the flames spread, consuming several houses.

When the tribesmen saw their sacred places in flames-with the priest standing there, torch in hand-they lynched him.” He paused, letting the weight of that fact settle over the room like a shroud.

“The locals, seeing a priest torn apart by foreign hands, rioted.

The settlement descended into chaos, and the garrison had no choice but to put the uprising down.” He placed the letter from the garrison’s commander onto the table with a quiet thud, his fingers lingering on the parchment for a moment before pulling away.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the implications of his words hanging in the air like smoke.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if the pressure of his fingers could somehow ease the tension building behind his eyes.

“The most widespread reaction,” he continued, his tone steady but edged with bitterness, “will be one of horror-outrage at the sacrilege.

The nobles, the clergy, and the zealots will demand that the crown either force the Vogondai into conversion or outright massacre them as punishment.” He paused again, his jaw tightening.

“Because, of course, that’s the predictable response.

Blood for blood, fire for fire.” They were in a pitch-and they all knew it.

Jasmine, seated beside Alpheo, tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“Are we going to do it?” she asked, her voice calm but probing.

Alpheo scoffed, his lips curling into a grim smile.

“Of course not.

The moment we give in to their demands, we lose.

Who in their right mind would settle in our lands again if they knew that at any moment, they could be forced to convert or be wiped out?

The entire policy we’ve built-the reason we’ve managed to bring in so many people to strengthen our realm-would crumble overnight.” Jasmine nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she digested his words.

“Then what will we do?” Before Alpheo could respond, Shahab shifted in his seat, the old lord’s fingers stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“Before we decide on a course of action,” he interjected, his voice measured, “perhaps it would be wise to list the short-term events that could pose immediate problems.

There will be plenty.” Alpheo exhaled sharply, leaning forward as his fingers drummed against the table.

“The biggest problem we’re facing right now,” he said, his voice cutting through the tense silence, “is the condemnation by the temples.

If that happens, we’re finished.” The room seemed to grow colder at his words.

A condemned person-or kingdom-was as good as damned.

It wasn’t just a death sentence for the soul; it was a death sentence for the body as well.

Any obligations-oaths, debts, allegiances-would dissolve like smoke in the wind.

Nobles could rebel without consequence.

Entire nations could march against them without so much as a formal declaration of war.

It was an open invitation for chaos, and their enemies would seize it without hesitation.

“But,” Alpheo continued, a hint of steel in his voice, “we have a way out,luckily for us.

The Romelians.” The tension in the room shifted-not lessened, but redirected.

While the temples operated independently, there was still a single authority capable of uniting them under a common cause: the Ecclesiast Priest.

In reality, this figure was less of a purely religious leader and more of a political extension of the Romelian court, acting as the emperor’s personal court priest.

He was the one who could authorize religious reforms, call councils, and, most importantly, approve or deny condemnations of rulers and entire nations.

Alpheo tapped the table, his gaze moving between those present.

“He is the one we have to convince.

If we can secure his neutrality-if we can make sure he doesn’t take an openly hostile stance-then we avoid the worst-case scenario.

Without official condemnation, the temples can scream all they want, but they won’t be able to openly act against us.

No wealth funneled into our enemies’ coffers, no holy cause to rally behind.

Just a lot of noise and bites without teeth.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin as his mind raced.

“It won’t solve all our problems,” he admitted, “but it’ll keep us from walking straight into the abyss.” “I’ll send word to Lord Marthio,” he continued “We need him to intercede with the Ecclesiast Priest and ensure that no condemnation is issued.

If that goes through, we’re done.

Our enemies will have a blank check signed by the gods themselves.” His eyes flickered over the room, gauging the reactions of those gathered.

Of course he didn’t wait for objections.

He pressed on, his tone steady but urgent.

“Of course, getting that kind of favor won’t come for free.

We’ll likely have to pay for it, and I imagine it won’t be cheap.” He sighed, rubbing his temple as if the thought alone gave him a headache.

“But if all it costs us is a bribe, then we come out ahead.

Better to fill a single coffer with gold and silver than to let our enemies fill hundreds with temple silver.

If we play this right, we’ll be cutting off tens of thousands of silverii in potential funding for anyone who’d want to march against us.” He let that sink in for a moment, the weight of his words settling over the room like a storm cloud.

Then he raised a hand, his expression sharpening.

“Of course, this won’t be as easy as throwing money at the problem.” He scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice.

“No, we have to give the Ecclesiast Priest something to work with.

Some excuse he can use to justify not condemning us, or else the bribe will be worthless.” A small, humorless smirk played on his lips.

“Fortunately, we have just that.

The priest wasn’t some martyr struck down in prayer-he was an arsonist.

He put a torch to the Voghondai altars, which we’ll call… a building, omitting its purpose.

In doing so, he caused a fire that spread to homes, destroying property and killing innocent people.” Alpheo leaned forward, tapping a finger against the table for emphasis.

“That’s our angle.

Instead of being accused of sacrilege-of murdering a priest-we shift the narrative.

We say that this was a case of misuse in the deliverance of justice.” He shrugged, his tone pragmatic.

“Still a crime, but a different one.

One that can be resolved with a fine rather than the destruction of our realm.” His expression darkened slightly as he glanced at the letter once more.

“It won’t make this mess disappear, but it’ll make it manageable.

And right now, that’s the best outcome we can hope for.” Alpheo turned his gaze to Shahab, his sharp eyes locking onto the older man.

“Do you think it’s doable?” he asked, his tone calm but expectant.

Shahab blinked, caught off guard by the direct question.

He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard as he turned the plan over in his head.

The more he considered it, the more it made sense.

It wasn’t just a desperate gamble-it could work.

Alpheo had managed, in mere moments, to carve out a path where there had been nothing but a dead end.

Slowly, Shahab nodded.

“Yes… it’s possible,” he admitted.

“As long as the Lord Regent of the Romelians can arrange the meeting with the Ecclesiast Priest.

If we can get them to sit down and listen, then the rest can be handled.” Alpheo exhaled, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“That won’t be a problem,” he said with confidence.

“It isn’t in Marthio’s interest to see chaos erupt in our lands-after all, we’re the ones filling his markets with our goods.

If our borders collapse into unrest, that trade flow stops, and he’ll have to find new suppliers.” He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his smirk returning, though there was little humor in it.

“He’s too pragmatic for that.

He’ll help, one way or another.” He paused, his expression turning more serious.

“Of course, we’ll owe them a favor in return,” he added.

“But given the circumstances, that is the lesser evil.Of course, this doesn’t mean we will all hold hands in peace” he said, his voice carrying an irony that none in the room appreciated .

“Condemnation or not, I believe that, one way or another, the state will plunge into a civil war.” Jarza furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“If we avoid condemnation, then the temples won’t act against us.

That was the main concern, wasn’t it?” Alpheo let out a short, humorless chuckle.

“When I spoke of enemies marching against us, I wasn’t referring to the temples,” he clarified.

“They have no men, no armies.

And certainly the last thing I would even be worried about are eunuchs marching against us with books and preaches.

But our nobles in the north?” He shook his head.

“They were wise enough to let a fanatical priest settle on their lands, with a thousand zealots at his back.

That is the problem.” Silence settled over the room as the weight of his words sank in.

Alpheo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

” I don’t believe that priest will sit idly by.

He was the one who sent a priest to the Voghondai in the first place.

You think he’ll just accept what happened and move on?” He scoffed.

“No, he’ll use this as his excuse to march down on us.

And, of course, the northern nobles won’t have a choice but to march with him.

Once that happens… who knows how many others they might convince to join them.” A heavy silence filled the room once more.

The storm was coming, and they all knew it.

Jasmine broke the silence first, her voice cutting through the heavy air.

“Then… what do we do?” she asked, her usual confidence tempered .

Alpheo turned his gaze toward her, his expression unreadable.

“The only thing we can do,” he replied.

“We prepare for the worst eventuality.” His fingers drummed against the table, his voice calm but firm.

“Because the enemy we will face might not just be an internal one.”