Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 869

Capítulo 869: Legacy(3)

The Romelian party arrived on the second day, precisely as Vrosk had predicted.That, however, was not the only thing that fell on the comfort of expectation bring the discomfort of news.

It was expected but still unwelcome when it fell.

An invasion was being prepared.

First time that a prince in the South was to be dragged into a Northern feud, there was no mingling of blood between the Romelian ruling families and the princes’, after all there was little to gain to waste a daughter to a man that could barely raise 2,500 troops on a good day.

Still they were allies now , so they gave the answer that they must.

The falcon would fly to the aid of the eagle. He had declared when duty was called on attention.

Now, Alpheo sat not on a throne but at a modest wooden table, one that might have belonged to a clerk or a scholar, devoid of decoration for the station of a prince.

The surface was cluttered with papers, folded and smudged, strangely more fitting for him than if it were filled with gold.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, voice measured.

“I had the reports from our contacts in the Imperial court brought to you.”

Around the table, three men leafed through the papers he had left.

“Their words are wind,” said the Legate of Third as he tapped the edge of one of those dozens of paper. “None of them really said anything remotely useful.”

Alpheo gave a small, humorless smile, when Asag hit bullseye.

“Because none of them are close enough to know. It would be quite the spectacle if a maid wandered into the Imperator’s war office, wouldn’t it?”

Jarza, lounging with his boot crossed over one knee, didn’t bother to look up. “I’d wager allies shouldn’t send cockroaches to one another.”

Alpheo arched an eyebrow. “They were the first to send one.”

“And you gave him a seat at your table,” Jarza said, his mouth curling up “And a title, if memory serves.”

“And he earned me a princedom,” Alpheo shot back.

”Didn’t the soldiers gain you Herculia?” said Edric, his high brow furrowed this was his first council, which as legate of a legion he was entitled to sit through, still he had gained enough confidence with his prince to speak his mind, so he did.

”We could give battle only after the capital fell, which I remind you was thanks to Pontus’ service. I vouched for him then, and I stood to it now.”

None picked on the matter after that.

“These reports,” Asag started again taking permission to fill the silence. ”do they mean anything, Alph?” he asked, gesturing at the spread of parchment before them. “They’re weeks old. And not really that useful.”

Alpheo’s fingers drummed softly against the table. “Information,” he said, “is a weapon sharper than steel. A war can be won if you know your enemy’s intentions a week before his march. A month before he orders grain to be stored.” He lifted one of the sealed letters and let it fall. “Every scrap matters.”

Asag sighed, unimpressed. “So, regarding their meaning to be here now?”

A ghost of a smirk touched Alpheo’s lips. “They mean I told you so.”

The two men exchanged puzzled glances before his meaning dawned.

“Last month,” Alpheo continued, “when it came time to renew the yearly budget, you two wept like children at harvest for more coin. I warned you we’d regret cutting from the intelligence fund. Now the expansion that I hoped for is gone. With proper funding, I’d have word not just from Romelia but from that whoring prince in the North and the halfwit noisy ass squatting in Habadia.”

Jarza’s mouth tightened; Asag’s eyes flickered to the side, finding great interest in the window

Alpheo exhaled and leaned back, his irritation fading into the cold calm of habit. “But since hammering a wedge with a hammer isn’t my style, I’ll forgo the lecture.” His fingers brushed over a map pinned at the table’s edge. “The Romelians have called for our aid. We’ve answered as allies must. Now, gentlemen, we must discuss how we’ll answer.”

The room seemed to narrow, the air thinning as the other shared a glance across the table.Unease bled between them like a silent confession.

Gods, Alpheo thought, if they had wings, they’d fly out there and shout it to the whole damn city.

“Is there something amiss?”

Jarza cleared his throat, his massive shoulders shifting “Shouldn’t we wait for the someone?”

Alpheo’s gaze sharpened, though his mouth barely moved. “He received the invitation. Given that he isn’t here…” His tone cooled to steel. “We have his answer, already.”

That ended the matter. The silence that followed had weight to it, a collective acknowledgment.

Finally with the matter forgone, Alpheo leaned forward, both palms flat on the table. “I trust I don’t need to explain just how important it is to keep the Romelians on our good side.”

Jarza snorted. “We owe them a favor already. Good occasion to pay it back.”

Alpheo’s lips twitched. “Fuck that. I’m not talking about debts of honor. I’m talking about the sheer scale of what’s at stake. Look north, our trade with them fills our coffers more than any damn tax ever could. Paper. Soap. Cider, not to speak about them protecting us from the vultures. The Romelian markets are our arteries, and right now, the Whore Prince’s sword hangs over every one of them.Ready to cut them off with a swing.”

He would have gestured toward a map filled with the many trade routes that filled the capital, but of course, he had none.

“If Mavius takes Mesha’s place, we lose that trade, and when he comes for more, we’ll be next on the list. One looks at our coffers, one at our enemy, and it doesn’t take a genius to know what the next steps will be.”

The room sank into a heavy stillness. It didn’t made much sense to them. They had won the last war, so why the hell did they feel like losers?

It made little sense, but that was the reality of facts.

Tough shit….

“Damn,” Edric muttered, his voice low. “Is it that serious?”

Alpheo gave him a tired look, one that could have belonged to a man twice his age, though he most certainly was twice the age of his body. “It’s already that serious. We’re standing in a swamp. I’m just trying to make sure we don’t sink deeper before the war swallows us all and drown us.”

He rubbed his temple, the motion small but weary. “If we lose Romelia, we lose our shield. And once that’s gone, there’s no stopping the Great Romelia, from ally turned enemy, from setting fire to the whole South.The Whore Prince is not like the boy, he is arrogant , fickle and will certainly not look in favour at having a neighbour so rich and yet so weak.”

The words hung there, unwanted but needed to be heard.

It was Jarza who finally had enough, and shifted the conversation to the practical. “What about supplies?”

“Handled….mostly,” Alpheo said. “The Romelians promised to bear the brunt of the logistics. They claim their storehouses are full after the last harvest.” He paused, eyes flicking toward the candlelight as if measuring something invisible. “Still, I’d rather not bet our men’s stomachs on the promises of a fifteen-year-old Emperor and his courtiers, so part of those supply we will organise by our own, I doubt our soldiers’ good tastes can be filled with the gruel the Romelians feed themselves with.An army marches on his stomach and we have spoiled us with the best”

“So, we prepare our own?” Asag asked.

Alpheo nodded. ” I’ve already ordered our warehouses inventoried. We’ll let them feed the front lines if they can, but I’ll be damned if our legionnaires starve waiting for bread from Romelia.”

Jarza’s brow furrowed. “Generous of them still.”

“Or desperate,” Asag cut in, his tone like gravel. He turned to the others, explaining, “Think about what they’re really saying: ‘Send us as many soldiers as you can, and we’ll feed them.’

They want bodies and shields. Things must be grim over there”

A murmur of agreement circled the table.

Alpheo remained silent for a moment, fingers tapping softly against the map. Then, with a thin smile, he said, “Desperation or not, they need us as far as we need them. They need soldiers and we need their diplomatic aid.”

He looked around the room.

The words were forming on Alpheo’s tongue when the hinges of the chamber door groaned open.

Every head turned.

The scrape of chairs against the stone floor echoed as all eyes fixed on the doorway, with eyes that widened, mostly with surprise.

The man in the threshold hesitated for a heartbeat, as though the air itself resisted his entry. Then he came forward, slow, unsteady steps across the floor. His once-proud frame looked smaller now, worn at the edges, like a child struck by his parents for a wrongdoing.

Alpheo didn’t move at first. He didn’t need to. He already knew.

When he finally turned, it was with the calm of a man who had waited too long for a moment he wished would never come.

His gaze met the newcomer’s, and for an instant, something flickered there. Then Alpheo’s expression hardened once more at the sight of the man he had first felt guilt for, then anger and then a short-lived hate.

Of course in there, hope was mixed too.

“It was about time,” at the end he decided to simply say to an friend who, in reply , dropped his head down with shame bearing on his head.

Egil was finally there.