Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 918

Capítulo 918: Rat-catcher(1)

“Come on, come on, come on…” the man muttered, shaking his hand up and down . The dice rattled inside his fist, a faint clinking like tiny bones begging to be freed. His breath fogged in the cold air of the alley, drifting between the three of them.

Across from him, perched on a pair of overturned crates as though they were thrones, the two youngsters let out a loud, theatrical groan.

“Move it, man! This isn’t a damned game of wit, throw the dices!”

“Aye,” the second boy chimed in, rolling his eyes hard enough that they nearly clicked. “Had we known you were this slow, we’d have picked someone else to fleece.”

The man lifted his chin with the dignity of a king lacking both crown and coin.”You can’t hurry luck,” he said calmly. Then, with a sly grin, “Call it.”

“Odd!” barked the first boy.

“Odd!” echoed the second immediately.

“Even it is, then,” the old man muttered, and finally cast the dice with a flourish that suggested far more confidence than he actually possessed.

The cubes skittered across the cobblestones toward the wall, bumping one stone before rolling together, settling at last beneath the meager torchlight.

A five.

The man’s face collapsed like a punctured wineskin.”Ah, for fuck’s sake…”

The first boy leaned forward, triumphant, and scooped up the prize with both hands, a rough but warm woolen coat, frayed at the hem but still leagues better than anything he owned.”Thank you for the coat, old-timer,” he chirped, already slipping it on. “Cold out here tonight. This’ll do nicely back home.”

“No need to rub it in,” the man grumbled, tugging the thinning fabric of his shirt closer. The chilly wind immediately punished him for the loss. “Bad enough I have to go to work without it.”

The boy waggled a finger at him like a schoolmaster correcting a child.”First rule of betting: never put down what you can’t afford to lose.”He smoothed the coat proudly. “And you clearly couldn’t.”

His smirk vanished the moment his friend grabbed his shoulder.”Oi. Oi! Guards.”

Everything froze for half a heartbeat.

Then the second boy hissed, “Fuck, take everything and let’s piss off!”

Street gambling wasn’t illegal. Not yet, anyway. But it was frowned upon, especially in the merchant quarter, where shopkeepers hated anything that might distract customers or clog their doorways. And the guards, depending on who you got, would either shoo you away like stray dogs, shake you down for a bribe, or both.

More than one unlucky gambler had ended up losing twice in a single night: once to the dice, and once to the law.

“Why so jumpy, my pocket-pinching friends?” the man said with a grand, sweeping gesture toward the approaching guards. “Look at me, the image of calm. Study well how a man behaves before the noble enforcers of the realm.”

“You only say that,” the first boy snapped as he stuffed the coins and dice into his pockets, “because you’ve got nothing left for them to take.”

“Aye,” the second agreed, already half turned to bolt, “you’re safe, old man. Us with our pockets full? Not so lucky.”

They both shut up the moment the dreaded silhouette filled the mouth of the alley. Whatever breath they had left lodged itself in their throats. In a practiced motions, the boys shuffled the coins in their palms, sliding the silverii they had got behind their belts while leaving the dull bronzii cupped in hand, meant to serve as tribute if things turned sour.

And things often turned sour.

The two boys tried to look harmless, innocent, practically fragile, anything that might inspire mercy.

Meanwhile, their “old man” their recent victim, did something that nearly caused both their souls to leap out of their bodies.

He straightened.

Not just straightened. Rose. His back uncurled, spine snapping upright like a banner pole, and in one horrifyingly casual motion he stepped forward and placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder, tugging on the man’s cloak as if they were old drinking companions.

”Pretty cold ain’t it?”

Both boys paled so white they could have blended into snowfall.

“Of course, sir, my apology,” the first guard muttered, as if he were the one in trouble. He immediately unclasped his cloak and handed it to the man, though he managed a lethal glare over the old gambler’s shoulder at the two youngsters, as though they had orchestrated some offense by merely existing.

The man slipped into the cloak with lazy confidence, patting the guard’s back in the most familiar manner imaginable.

“Don’t fret, Hypatio,” he said, adjusting the mantle across his shoulders with almost regal comfort. “They won it fair and square.”

Fair.Square.The boys could have choked, he did not know they used weighted dice.

Unbeknowst of the cheat , he continued.”I suppose with you here, there have been developments?”

A gust of wind swept down the alley, fluttering the white plume on Hypatio’s helm. The man nodded once, briskly.

“We have the location, sir. We’re awaiting your order to proceed.”

A faint smile tugged at the gambler’s lips, one that now looked far too sharp for a simple street rat.

“Wonderful. Lead me there.”

“At once, sir.”Hypatio turned on his heel.

Before following, the cloaked man cast one last look at the two lads who stared at him as though he had just climbed out of their future grave and asked how the soil tasted.

He grinned wide enough to show teeth.

“Thanks for the evening, boys. And, just for the record, I’m not an old man. I’m barely thirty-four.”

He winked.

Then strode off after the guard, leaving the two youths sitting on their crates in stunned, shivering silence, holding a handful of bronzii, a silverii, a stolen coat, and the sinking realization that they’d just robbed a man who luckily for them had been a good sport about it.

—————–

“Was that necessary, Captain?” Hypatio asked once they were out of the alley and marching down the cramped streets of Yarzat.

Laedio answered without even gracing him with a look.

“It is for my dearest friend who once said,” he began, lifting a finger theatrically as if reciting scripture, “that to understand the worm, one must swim in the dirt. I merely followed his advice. A man should know how things fare for the unlucky of the capital.”

A lie, crisp and blatant.

Hypatio let out the kind of sigh reserved for priests dealing with drunk pilgrims. He ran a hand along the rim of his helm, trying to decide whether the explanation irritated him more than the act itself.

“Be that as it may,” he began carefully, “it wouldn’t hurt the head of the garrison to avoid mingling with the scum of this city. You are a lord, Captain. If word spreads that you sat in an alley tossing dice with rats, you risk becoming the laughingstock of Yarzat. And with you, so do we.”

Laedio only shrugged and tugged the stolen cloak tighter around himself.

“If it’s any consolation, I had some fun.”Then he shivered dramatically. “Though the cold certainly murders the mood.”

Hypatio said nothing, only stared at him with a hollow, resigned expression that suggested he had already mourned the loss of his captain’s dignity.

Laedio huffed.

“Why does everyone have it out for me?” he complained, throwing his arms up. “I can’t accept a small bribe because ‘it looks bad,’ my friend in the High Castle says. I can’t enjoy a morning drink because apparently I ‘dive deeper’ as the day goes on. And now I can’t even play a harmless game of dice? I can’t play with my men because that would hurt my image with the men ‘”

Hypatio raised an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t me pulling you out of alleys count for that?”

Laedio shot him a flat look.

“You going to squeal?”

Hypatio shook his head

“There you have it, then.” Laedio gave him a pleased grin. “Consider this a sign of my trust. I’ll speak with the Prince about you, good things are in your future.”

“I thank you for your consideration,” Hypatio said cautiously, “but I would still prefer you not make a habit of… this.”

Laedio waved a lazy hand behind him, as if brushing away the entire conversation.

“Yes, yes, yes. No more alley gambling.I’ll be a proper lord and head of garrison.”He paused, then cleared his throat. His tone shifted, the lighter fading into something more duty-bound.”Now then, let us speak of work before you lecture me into the grave.”

His expression sharpened.

“You’re certain about the place?”

“Unless the scum we caught and worked over for half the night suddenly discovered a hero’s courage and lied through missing teeth and broken toes,” Hypatio replied with a scoff, “then the place is true enough. We watched it after the confession. A surprising number of visitors slipped inside for what is supposed to be a shoemaker’s shop. I do not pretend to know how many soles a cobbler might repair in a day, but men do not linger for hours among lasts and scraps of leather. Whatever business is done there, it is not trade.”

He turned his gaze fully on Laedio, letting the implication settle like dust in a stagnant room.

“Shall I prepare the squad and clear the place out?”

Laedio did not answer at once. He slowed his step, eyes narrowing as though he were peering through fog toward a solution not yet fully shaped. A faint grimace tugged on the corner of his mouth, half annoyance, half thought.

“No,” he said at last, shaking his head. “Kicking in doors hasn’t worked for us the last five times. Every time we stormed one of these rat-nests, we arrived just in time to find nothing except whatever scraps they left behind to mock us. I am tired of cleaning rooms they abandon at the slightest tremor.”

He exhaled sharply, breath fogging in the cold.

” This time we look for another road.”