Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king Chapter 90: Mercenary interest(1)

Chapter 90: Mercenary interest(1)

The midday sun blazed down on the sprawling camp that had sprung up a few kilometers outside the city of Aracina. The prince of Oizen, Alpheo’s employer, had finally arrived, bringing with him the full force of his army.

Soldiers moved in every direction, tending to the prince’s few horses, sharpening weapons, and preparing meals over open fires. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat and roasting meat. V/\IssịT n0(v)eL/b(i)(n).𝘤𝑜/𝓂 for the b/est novel reading experi/en/ce

Alpheo and his group navigated through the bustling camp, weaving between clusters of soldiers and supply wagons.

“I don’t see much left for us,” Clio muttered. “Do you think they’ve forgotten about us? I don’t see a piece of free space for us ”

Alpheo’s eyes scanned the camp, taking in the scene before turning to his group. “From what I can see, the prince has no more than 2,000 men—maybe fewer if we’re counting our own. They’d be fools to anger a quarter of their forces.”

“You think they’re going to start trouble?” Clio asked, kicking a pebble as he walked.

Alpheo just shrugged and kept moving forward

Banner poles bearing the prince’s crest flapped in the breeze, their vibrant colors a sharp contrast to the camp’s utilitarian surroundings. As they walked, Alpheo noted the different flags representing various nobles.

“Has he managed to settle things with his vassals?” he wondered aloud, his eyes drifting over the scene. Most of the troops were infantry, armed with lances and barely any armor, if they had any at all. The cavalry, though better equipped, was few in number. It was clear that the men Alpheo had brought with him could be regarded as elite—they would easily hold their own in battle and even some more .

Finally, the group approached the center of the camp, where the prince’s tent loomed large and tall

Alpheo could hear the murmur of voices from within, a low hum of conversation. He glanced at his companions and went forth. Jarza walked beside him, his face set with determination, while Egil, buoyed and happy by the recent formation of the light cavalry, brought up the rear.

The guards at the entrance snapped to attention as they neared. One of them murmured something to his comrades before disappearing into the tent, returning a few seconds later. With a nod, the guards parted the heavy tent flaps, allowing them to enter.

Inside, the prince’s tent was spacious, filled with the scent of leather and polished steel. Numerous people crowded the space, most of them nobles whose finely crafted armor gleamed in the filtered light seeping through the tent’s fabric. Their crests and insignias marked them as men of importance within the princedom

As Alpheo and his group entered, the nobles turned their attention toward them, their stares ranging from neutral to openly disdainful.

At the far side of the tent, the prince of Yarkat stood behind a large wooden table, a rough map of the region spread out before him. The prince, sensing the arrival of new company, raised his eyes from the map. His gaze was sharp and assessing as it met Alpheo’s.

The silence stretched for a moment before Alpheo and his group dropped to one knee in unison, a gesture of respect that filled the tent with a hushed reverence. They quickly rose, their movements fluid and practiced.

“Your Highness,” Alpheo began, his voice steady and confident. “It is a pleasure to see you and your army marching to our aid . The sight of your banner was a welcome one, especially after the enemy retreated deeper into the territory.” He offered an amiable smile, his eyes briefly scanning the prince’s entourage.

Among the prince’s closest advisors stood Shahab, the prince’s father-in-law, and Robert,the prince right hand . To Alpheo’s surprise, Fahil had been summoned before him and was now standing behind the prince, his expression nervous and uneasy. This sight caused Alpheo to chuckle silently, finding humor in Fahil’s discomfort.

The prince’s eyes, sharp and calculating, settled on the mercenary captain. “It is a pleasure to see you in full health, Alpheo,” he began, though the brief pause hinted at an expectation, perhaps, that the captain might not have fared so well. “Fahil has informed me of your… remarkable defense of the city. He also mentioned how you cunningly set a trap that led to significant enemy casualties, including the capture of many prisoners—some of whom, I understand, are of considerable rank.”

“You honor me, Your Grace,” Alpheo replied, his tone a careful blend of respect and pride. “But the credit is as much Fahil’s as it is mine. Without his support, the plan would not have succeeded. I’m sure he also mentioned how we managed to neutralize the enemy’s elite infantry in a single night.” Alpheo’s smile broadened slightly, his pride evident as he recalled the operation.

The prince’s gaze flickered with interest as he absorbed Alpheo’s words. “Indeed, he did,” the prince acknowledged, his voice betraying a trace of admiration. “Your ingenuity has proven invaluable. Such actions have not only strengthened our position but have also dealt a significant blow to our enemy’s morale.”

Alpheo inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Your Highness. It was a collective effort, and I am fortunate to have such capable men by my side who enabled us to inflict such heavy casualties.”

The prince’s expression shifted subtly, his eyes narrowing as he continued, “Many of whom you took as prisoners,” he said, his tone even but laden with hidden meaning

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Alpheo responded, his voice steady and measured, sensing where the conversation was heading.

The prince’s demeanor hardened, his voice acquiring a sharpness that had not been there before. “I’m sure they have been a considerable burden on you, so I have come to relieve you of them,” he declared, his tone laced with subtle condescension. “Feeding so many prisoners must have been an arduous task.”

Alpheo inwardly smirked at the prince’s thinly veiled attempt to seize control of the situation. ‘Too late, you scheming bastard,’ he thought, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. Aloud, he maintained a respectful tone. “Your Grace is generous to be concerned about our welfare,” he said smoothly. “However, I am pleased to inform you that the matter has already been resolved. There is no need for you to trouble yourself with the prisoners.”

A ripple of surprise coursed through the assembled nobles, their attention now fully captured. The prince’s expression tightened, a barely perceptible shift that revealed his displeasure. “May I know how you have resolved this… issue?” His voice was cold, the words clipped as he sought to maintain control of the situation.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Alpheo replied, his voice laced with a confidence that bordered on defiance. A slight smile played at his lips as he continued, “The prisoners were ransomed days before you blessed the city with your presence.”

A wave of astonishment swept through the tent, the nobles exchanging incredulous glances as Alpheo’s words sank in. Whispers erupted among them, their hushed voices filled with disbelief and outrage, some murmuring, “Mercenary,” “Dare,” and “Arrogance.” It was clear that many of them viewed Alpheo’s actions as not only bold but as a direct challenge to their authority.

The prince’s eyes bore into Alpheo’s, the irritation in his gaze barely concealed. “You have already ransomed them?” he repeated, his voice chillingly measured as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Alpheo affirmed, meeting the prince’s piercing gaze without flinching. “The terms were negotiated swiftly, and the prisoners were exchanged for a substantial sum. Those funds have been reinvested into our forces, ensuring our continued strength and readiness—something that will undoubtedly benefit your campaign in the battles to come.”

The prince’s jaw clenched visibly, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he fought to suppress his growing anger. Around him, the nobles’ whispers grew louder, a persistent murmur that filled the tent like the rising tide of a storm. Alpheo could catch snippets of their conversation—words like “impudent,” “overstepped,” and “dangerous” floating to his ears.

”Next time I would prefer if you would not be so hasty in your treatment of ‘our’ prisoners” The prince finally said after spending a few seconds trying to find the right words

Alpheo maintained his composed demeanor and bowed a bit , his face a mask of respectful neutrality. He was acutely aware of the fine line he walked—balancing between what their deal required and asserting his own agency.After all he had to make money in some way, but luckily for him, he was too great of value to be dismissed or punished, so he knew the prince in the end would suck it up. What good was being in a good position if one did not exploit it?

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