Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 880

Capítulo 880: Augustine halls(6)

Alpheo leaned back in his chair, the wood groaning under the weight of his body. His gaze swept across the table where his companions sat , men who had followed him from mud and hunger into the halls of princes, and who now stared at him as if he’d brought them the omen of their own ruin.

None spoke. They didn’t need to. The air was heavy with the same thought that pressed on Alpheo’s chest but he dared not out.

We’re in too deep.

He had told them everything: the boy-emperor’s pitiful numbers, the hollow coffers, the mad reliance on mercenaries who’d had royal blood in their hands. There was no point in hiding it, and he needed someone to let it out to.

Plus, information was a weapon, and a commander who hoarded weapons from his men was no better than a miser counting coins in a burning house. Still, watching their faces now he wondered if truth, in this case, had done more harm than ignorance ever could.

None of them wanted to hear that they were bleeding gold and men into a venture built on prayers and broken promises.

None wanted to learn that the empire they’d come to “save” was already half a corpse.

These men had followed him through hunger and wars, even when they had freedom they chose him.

That was worth everything in Alpheo’s eyes.And if he could allow himself to be honest to them…well what was the point of it all?

He watched Jarza trace the rim of his goblet, eyes distant. Egil sat hunched forward, jaw tight, the same way he’d looked when the Yarzat gate first opened , when they’d gambled everything and won. From mercenary to lords and princes…what a story.

That victory had made them legends. This time,they feared, they might just become martyrs.

He sighed and leaned his head back, letting the candlelight brush against his face. Duty, he thought bitterly.

It was his duty to tell them the truth.

He could have kept this secret, pretended that all was well until the drums of war drowned the truth. It might have bought them a few more nights of peace, a few more moments of that precious illusion that all their sacrifices were building toward something solid. But peace built on lies crumbles faster than stone built on sand.

No, they deserved to know. If they were to walk through the fire, it was his duty to tell them how hot it burned.

His fallout with Egil had taught him that keeping things hidden was not always the best choice.

Friendships were strange things.

They took minutes to form, seconds to ruin, and decades ,if ever , to mend.

”I suppose cutting our losses isn’t an option,” Asag fianlly said, not so much asking as throwing the idea into the smoke. Alpheo didn’t offer anything to the rethorical question but an hard and rhetorical silence. He sat with his chin in his hand, watching the flames of the brazier throw ugly shadows over the men’s faces.

“They fall, we follow,” Jarza said bluntly answering the question did not need any answer. He looked older than his years tonight; the lines at his eyes had dug themselves deeper since the last campaign. “Like Alpheo said before, they’re our shield. If Mesha goes down, we do too.”

Egil pushed himself back from the table like a snapped branch and spat into the brazier, the little shower of embers bright against his scowl. “A shield of brittle metal, more like,” he growled. “We brought half their damned army, what does that make us? A quarter of their size? And now we get to be the ones fixing their holes.” He ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. “Little bitch bled us dry, didn’t he? We carted men, we cut open our purses for four thousand silverii and now we’re leasing him ships. I’ll at least clasp the bastards that put the knife in the late Emperor’s back if I get the chance. Might be the only party worth going to in this war.”

Silence pooled around the table.

Morale was really that low…

Alpheo pushed himself upright and forced a thin grin , not for pleasure, but because he was the one who had to supply the next move. “Look,” he said, putting a hand flat on the rough table. “I got concessions from it. The Imperator gave me command of a flank and promised to heed my counsel promptly. He’ll listen to me in the field. That matters.”

Asag snorted, folding his arms. “That sounds more in his favor than yours.You after all have a certain name for yourself. He would be a fool not to heed you.”

“Anything else?” Jarza asked, eyebrows knitting.

Alpheo exhaled. “He signed something too. Half the cost to finish the Magna Road will be their problem for five years after this campaign.”

Egil barked a harsh laugh. “Paper? Paper’s not worth wiping an arse if the boy falls. If Mesha loses his crown, every contract and signature is just kindling.” He leaned forward, the firelight catching the hard planes of his face. ”Everything relies on whetever we win no?”

Jarza’s eyes were flat. “Why you gotta be such a cloud-biter, Egil?”

“Someone’s gotta be the realist,” Egil replied, venom edged with a grudging affection. He unclenched his hands and reached for his cup. “Still doesn’t mean I won’t give my all to shove a wedgie up the mask’s arse when we meet him.He too is the Great Bastard’s son after all.Can’t have the youngest, I’ll satisfy myself with the oldest.”

At that, the room broke into a crooked half-laugh. For a moment they let themselves be boys again, trading the old crude jokes that steadied men on the brink.

It didn’t last long.

”Do you have any idea how to get us out of this, Alph?” Asag asked, but the question wasn’t his alon, every head around the table turned, every pair of eyes finding Alpheo in the dim lamplight.

Alpheo scrubbed his hands over his face. He could have lied, promised a grand stratagem and papered over the gaps with rhetoric. He didn’t, so he presented the best he had.

“Right now,” he said, voice low, “we will fight on terrain that turns numbers into an inconvenience. We don’t have the men to slug it out across an open plain and hope our courage makes up the shortfall. So we choose ground that narrows the fight, a choke where the enemy can’t wrap a thousand men around our flank like a snake. If they are forced into a headlong attack, their numbers will still give them an advantage, but so will our superiority in skill.

We make them file through the funnel. Our flank, which really would be the key to the victory, will be the hard edge. We break their lead while we prepare the other flanks to resist the attack until we get the job done.”

A slow nod moved around the table. It wasn’t the groundbreaking plan of Apurvio, but it was sensible. A frontal battle would in theory favor the larger host, but a frontal battle with a narrow throat favored the defender who knew where to put his weight. It was a gambler’s hedge, not a miracle, and Alpheo’s men liked hedges , of course when miracles weren’t on offer.And usually Alpheo had plenty of them.

“Of course,” he added, eyes flicking to each of them, “we can’t make clever ground without clever information. You fight best what you’ve seen.”

Asag’s voice dropped. “Your agents? Did one of them get in?”

“They did,” Alpheo answered. “One of my teams has slipped inside the enemy muster. He’s not Lucius.”

“Marcus?” Egil asked, leaning forward, hungry.

Alpheo nodded. “Marcus.” He let the name sit, because the two of them were like different knives in his belt. “They are both by bests.But they work on different specialties, Marcus is very good on leading personal mission, Lucius is perfect for long term management…”

Jarza spat the seed of a grape on his plate. “Good. Which means?”

“Which means Marcus has been working the edges and managed to get in, with quite the numbers.

It’s easy to hide if you know where to tuck yourself, especially one were men aren’t identified, like in ours. The moment they march, we’ll see where they move and how many they bring. The presence of our men inside their ranks also buys us the option of playing ugly.”

Asag exhaled, the sound a small relief. “So we don’t have to be picky.”

“No,” Alpheo said. ”Not that we have any opportunity for that.”

Silence wrapped them again, but this time it was not the dumb, stunned hush of men who had heard bad news. Alpheo was pride to see the resilience in his men’s eyes, especially since he knew of the magnitude he was asking of them.

It was easy after all, to take water from a burning house when yours was aflame too.

They had invested so much, and yet the odds seemed so bleak.

He was happy to see that they understood that their fate was tied to Mesha, for if the boy fell they were to follow.

As such, there was no place for slackers or grumblers, as this was the moment where they had to put their heads together to find the light at the end of the tunnel.

Of course for that, they had to dig deep, not that it was a new thing after all.