Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

'Well, oh boy, oh boy... here we go,' Alpheo thought, as the prince's gaze darkened, a murderous gleam in his eyes. The air in the tent felt heavier, as if charged with the storm of unspoken fury building behind the prince's calm fa?ade. Alpheo could feel the heat of that fury, but beneath the tension, he understood something crucial: despite the prince's rage, there was little he could do to reprimand or punish him without risking severe consequences.

Alpheo's mind worked quickly and managed a response in his mind . The prince's forces relied heavily on his seasoned fighters, men whose loyalty was secured not by oaths or honor, but by the clink of gold in their pockets. Undermining their captain, or worse, seeking retribution, could have disastrous effects.

'At worst,' Alpheo mused, 'I'll get a slap on the wrist for this.'

"When you ransomed the men....were you aware that what you had done was nothing short of sabotaging us?"

The prince's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening, but he said nothing, waiting for Alpheo to continue.

"I would not be so foolish as to ransom them and allow them to return fully armed and prepared to face us again," Alpheo explained. "Before they were sent back, all of their equipment was confiscated—their weapons, their armor, their horses. Everything of value was taken and redistributed among my men."

A ripple of whispers ran through the tent as the nobles absorbed Alpheo's words. Alpheo pressed on, his voice steady, projecting confidence. "During the siege, I observed the enemy's forces closely. Most of their troops were ill-equipped, lacking proper armor and weapons. Their resources are stretched thin, Your Grace. Most of the prisoners we captured were poorly supplied. This tells me one thing: the prince of Oizen does not have the means to rearm those men anytime soon."

The prince's face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of interest. Alpheo could tell he was listening, weighing the information.

"By ransoming those soldiers," Alpheo continued, "I deprived the enemy of their best men for weeks. Even if they make it back to their ranks, they will return as little more than naked bodies on the battlefield, unarmed, vulnerable. Meanwhile, the coin I gained from their ransom has been put to good use. My men are better equipped, better prepared, and stronger than before. Every sword, every piece of armor taken from them has strengthened our own forces."

The prince's eyes narrowed as he processed Alpheo's words. The logic in Alpheo's explanation was hard to refute.

Thinking it over, the prince realized that continuing to push the matter would be counterproductive. The deed was already done, and contesting it further would only undermine his own position and potentially sow discord among his troops. Reluctantly, he had to acknowledge that he was powerless.

"What has happened cannot be undone," the prince began, his voice heavy with restrained anger. He paused, searching for the right words, seeking a way to frame his next statement as a punishment. The nobles in the tent watched intently, their whispers momentarily stilled by the prince's commanding presence.

"You have knowingly went behind my back " the prince continued, his tone hardening. "The only way you can repay such a debt is by spilling my enemy's blood on the battlefield. Your troops shall be put on the front line, where we will see if your words about their capabilities were mere boasting or if they contain truth."

The prince's gaze bore into Alpheo, the weight of his decree hanging in the air. Alpheo, ever composed, bowed deeply in acknowledgment. "As you command, Your Grace," he said, his voice steady and respectful. "My men and I will prove our worth on the battlefield. We shall obey and honor your directive."

With that, Alpheo straightened, his eyes meeting the prince's for a brief moment of silent understanding. He then turned and walked out of the tent, his steps measured and purposeful. The nobles' whispers resumed, a mix of speculation and judgment following in his wake.

As Alpheo left the tent, Robert observed him leaving, barely holding himself from lunging forwards and throttling the hell out of the boy.

Instead he just leaned to the prince and whispered ''Was it wise your grace?He is becoming too arrogant...''

Arkawatt could do nothing but put his hand on his face ''We will soon be battling the bastard of Oizen, we are in need of him.Also it is undeniable now that they have skill, and honestly I prefer not giving them any reason to change sides right now. With time everything will be paid with due''

And yet even the prince in the back of his mind started wondering if what he was doing was truly wise.

His men, clustered nearby, watched him closely, their eyes betraying the curiosity and concern they had kept in check while waiting outside. Jarza, ever the stoic, offered Alpheo a questioning glance, while Egil's sharp eyes scanned the tent behind them, as if half-expecting trouble to come charging after.

"Everything went just as we expected," Alpheo muttered under his breath, his tone carrying an edge of amusement. His words brought a noticeable relaxation among his companions. Shoulders eased, hands loosened on sword hilts, and the subtle tension that had gripped them dissipated.

Egil, with his ever-present smirk, was the first to break the silence. "As long as my purse is full, I'm happy." His voice carried a playful drawl as he leaned casually against a nearby post. "The prince can fume all he wants, but he knows damn well he can't pay us what we're worth. And he has no right to protest when he can't afford to."

Alpheo chuckled, his amusement reflecting in the corners of his eyes. Egil's pragmatism was always a steadying force, reminding him that at the end of the day, they fought for coin, not crowns or causes. "True enough," Alpheo agreed, his voice quiet but firm. "The prince commands his nobles and his regular troops, but he knows we're the ones that can tip the scales in his favor. He needs us—badly. "

Jarza, the more measured of the group, crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe so," he said, his voice low, "but the nobles aren't happy. I saw their faces in that tent. They think we're overstepping."

"They can think what they like," Alpheo replied, his tone dismissive. "We've earned our place here. Without us, the prince's campaign would be hanging by a thread. It's not arrogance if it's true."

Jarza gave a reluctant nod. "Just keep your eyes open," he cautioned. "The nobles might not say anything now, but they don't forget slights. They'll be looking for a chance to bring us down a notch."

Alpheo didn't need the reminder; he knew full well the delicate balance they were walking. The prince might tolerate their independence and skill for now, but there would come a time when he would no longer need them. And when that day came, the prince wouldn't hesitate to cut them loose—or worse.

Still, today wasn't that day. Today, they still held the upper hand.

"Let them watch and wait," Alpheo said with a faint smile. "By the time they find an opening, the war will be over, and we'll be long gone with our purses full."

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Egil grinned, pushing off from his casual lean. "Then I say we drink to that, eh?"

Alpheo's smile widened. "You read my mind."

As the group began to move away from the prince's tent, the weight of their conversation fading, Alpheo cast one last glance over his shoulder.

"Enjoy tonight," Alpheo continued, his tone light but carrying a note of seriousness. "Tomorrow, we'll probably be leaving for battle , and who knows when we'll get another chance to unwind."

Asag,, looked at Alpheo and asked, "And what about you, Captain? What will you be doing?"

Alpheo sighed, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. "I'm going to catch up on some sleep," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haven't had much of that lately, and we're going to need all our strength for what's coming."

Jarza and the others nodded in understanding, appreciating their leader's honesty. The group began to disperse, each man heading off to enjoy the brief respite in their own way. Some sought out the nearest tavern, others made their way to the market to spend their hard-earned coin, and a few simply found a quiet spot to rest.Whatever they chose however soon they would all find themselves fighting for their lives, as the commander they have decided to rely on would soon overturn their lives.