Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 756

Chapter 756: Imitation is the best type of flattery

In truth, Alpheo would never have expected Sorza to adopt the very tactic that had denied him victory in the field some seven years ago or so.

Enemy or not, credit was due where it was deserved, and in that regard Alpheo could admit a measure of respect.

It took a certain clearance of mind to strip the enemy of their methods and make them your own, unclouded by pride or shame really.

That spirit, cold, practical, and willing to learn, was worth acknowledging for sure.

But it was the spirit he respected, not the decision itself.

That was a different matter, for when Alpheo first read of Sorza’s reforms, the very first thought that crossed his mind was:

What a dumbass.

Alpheo mused as he wondered if this was what the Romans of the Republic had felt when they marched out to meet the army of Mithridates of Pontus,a king who had tried, and failed, to mimic the Roman legionary system.

And just as Pontus had failed against Rome, so too would Sorza fail against him.

He could already imagine Asag’s reaction when he learned that the very formation he had once used to crush Oizenian cavalry, back when they had still been mercenaries in another man’s pay, was now being adopted by the very prince it had humbled.

The irony would not be lost on him, as he was perceptive to such things.

Still, the report lacked detail. There were many ways to wield pikes in warfare, and each carried its own strengths and weaknesses. From the towering and original Macedonian sarissa phalanx to the two millennia retake of the Scottish schiltron, all the way to the disciplined Spanish tercio, history had offered countless interpretations of the same weapon.

Yet the differences between these systems were immense. Facing one was not the same as facing another, and knowing which Sorza had chosen mattered greatly. Even so, Alpheo felt no real apprehension. He had, after all, three millennia of military history lodged firmly in his mind, and pike formations, no matter their origin, had long ago been studied, countered, and dismantled by those who knew how.

Whatever form Sorza’s imitation took, Alpheo was certain it would be crude, the work of a novice at the craft. And crude imitations were the easiest to break, especially when compared with the original.

Still, it would be wise to tell Lucius to gather more precise information on the matter.

Knowing exactly what kind of pike formation Sorza intended to employ would cost him nothing, and the knowledge could only work in his favor.

The thought of Lucius brought Alpheo back to the present and to the silence in the room. He suddenly realized how long he had left Lucius’ two subordinates standing there, shifting ever so slightly in discomfort, waiting for their dismissal.

He straightened in his seat.”My compliments on the success of your mission,” he said at last, remembering he had yet to acknowledge their part in the fall of the city.

“We are not worthy of your thanks, Your Grace,” replied Ebran, bowing his head respectfully.

“Nonsense,” Alpheo countered. “Without the chain, the city would never have fallen so easily. We might have been forced to retreat back to the sea.”

“No, Your Grace, we mean… we are not the ones you should thank for the mission,” Ebran said earnestly. “It was Captain Lucius who was responsible for it.”

“Oh?” Alpheo arched a brow. “How so?”

“Once the date you had given him arrived,” Ebran began, “the captain slipped into the city under cover of night. He made his way to the harbor with a saw in hand and went straight for the tower anchoring the chain. He worked on it over several nights. Fortunately, the links were rusted, and with enough persistence, he managed it.”

“Is that so?” Alpheo’s surprise was genuine. That Lucius, who had, in recent years, become quite the big shot, had personally taken the lead in such a dangerous task pleased him more than he expected.

He truly deserves that lordship, Alpheo thought.

“I would have expected him to come here and pay homage,” he remarked aloud.

Ebran, mistaking this for a veiled rebuke, hastened to defend his captain. “Sir, he meant no disrespect. He believed there were better ways to be of service to Your Grace. He left us here to ensure the chain was dealt with, then moved on to conduct further operations in the field.

His absence here is just because he believed there was more to do in your name.

You will be pleased to know,” Ebran continued, “that he has severely delayed the enemy’s ability to muster their forces, striking various contingents of enemies on their way to the capital. He has even taken several minor lords captive and is awaiting your word on whether you wish to take possession of them.”

Alpheo leaned back, digesting the news. He really went out of his way…

To say he was impressed would be an understatement. He had not expected Lucius to be this effective. Truthfully, he had assumed the man might be a nuisance at best for the enemy, yet here he was, playing a significant role in slowing the Oizenian prince’s response.

I would have liked to meet him in person, Alpheo thought. It has been years since I last saw him. No doubt he’s a little irritated with me for leaving him in the field for so long, but he’ll understand when I place his reward in his hands.

The thought left him in a pleasant mood. The opportunity to finally meet again with the best agent he had ever sent into the field would be worth the wait.

Of course, Alpheo suspected Lucius might not be quite as pleased with what would come after the reward. The man was simply too valuable to be left idle.

Still… perhaps Lucius already knew that. Perhaps that was why he had expanded his network and trained capable subordinates—to ensure that his work could continue even if he were pulled away.

Maybe I should give the poor man some rest, Alpheo mused, and shift his workload onto his lieutenants. The idea had merit. He could propose it to Lucius directly, ask whether he believed his people were ready to take control of semi-autonomous operations.

Better yet, it would free Lucius from personally taking the field, opening the possibility of assigning him to another, equally important task. His performance in the field had proven that perhaps the greatest strength of Alpheo’s intelligence network lay not in centralizing control, but in decentralizing it, granting more authority to trusted agents and letting them operate independently, so long as they provided regular reports.

Who knew? Perhaps this Ebran standing before him might become one of those regional heads. Lucius had spoken highly of the man, and Alpheo saw no reason to doubt his judgment; Lucius’s word was, in most cases, as good as gold.

If that weren’t enough, Alpheo found himself quietly impressed by how Ebran had leapt to defend his captain the moment he mistakenly believed the prince was displeased by Lucius’s absence. Of course, Alpheo had felt no such thing, but Ebran could not have known that.

Those who knew Alpheo well understood he was unusually relaxed when it came to matters of etiquette or formal behavior in his presence. But for those who did not, the combination of great power and an unreadable demeanor often created a dangerous assumption, that such a man must have a short fuse, quick to anger over the smallest slight.

Alpheo was not that kind of ruler. Yet the fact that Ebran, a man who had every reason to tread carefully, had still chosen to intercede on behalf of his captain, even at the risk of drawing royal ire was, in Alpheo’s eyes, worth more than any empty display of loyalty.

A point in his book, indeed.

Returning to the network reform, a system of monthly intelligence summaries from regional heads would dramatically lighten Alpheo’s own workload. Truth be told, he had always treated the spy network somewhat lightly, giving it far less direct attention than it deserved. The results had been acceptable, but inefficiencies had begun to show.

By dividing the network into regions, appointing reliable subordinates as heads, and granting them control over their own local operatives, Alpheo could create a more responsive and self-sufficient structure. Only matters of real importance would be sent directly to him, while the day-to-day running of operations would be handled entirely in the field.

It would be cleaner. Faster. And far less taxing on his time than before, when he alone read the reports coming from their sources, unwilling to trust anyone else with the power to dictate what happened behind closed doors.

But if he divided that authority among several men rather than letting it pool in the hands of one, it would be far easier to prevent any single agent from growing too powerful, which would allow him to sleep better without giving wood to the fire of paranoia in his mind.