Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The room was modest in size, especially when compared to the grandeur of others within the palace. Its walls, devoid of any lavish adornments, bore only the proud banner of the eagle, symbolizing the enduring strength of the realm. Unlike the opulent chambers meant for indulgence, this space served a more solemn purpose—a place of duty rather than pleasure.

’’If they want pretty things , they may go to a whorehouse’’ Were the words of Emperor Lakianos I the ’Austere’ who built this room.

For over a century, it had remained unchanged, its austere simplicity on par only to its solemnity. Only the banners of the reigning house, the Kazontous, added any hint of color or symbolism to the otherwise stark environment. 80 years ago they were hung on the wall and were never taken off, they were not the founder of the throne, nor did they gained it through civil war, they instead just married to it . Funny enough the family with the highest count of War-emperors gained power through peaceful means.

Despite its modesty, the room was not lacking in significance. It served as the gathering place for the highest council of the realm—the five leading men of the empire, each a formidable magnate in their own right. Their lineage traced back through the annals of history, intertwined with the very fabric of Romelian society, their influence stretching across the core hearthland of the empire which consisted of the southern part.

Within the chamber, they sat, their expressions grave and purposeful, their hands resting upon the sturdy tables before them.

Their seats were hereditary, but more than a bloom it was a curse, as the emperor demanded the seat always to be occupied by either the patriarch or the first-born son , this was nothing but a clever plot to have hostages. They were in fact lacking in any power, as their duty was just that of counseling the king nothing more and nothing less. Though on second thought having the strongest families of the southern part of the empire, sitting side by side with the royal family maybe was not the brightest idea.

That though was another matter, for now they had business to tend to .

As the council convened, a woman with striking red hair rose to address the assembly. Her regal bearing and the glint of precious jewels in her hair marked her as none other than the empress herself. Her hair, woven into an intricate bun atop her head, sparkled with the adornments bestowed upon her by the emperor. Each pin, carefully arranged, seemed to mirror the brilliance of the sun, she was the empress of the Empire.

’’My lords , I suppose that it is time to speak of what convened in recent days.’’ She spoke as her gaze flew to the men in the room, if she was to succeed, she needed to present her case well.

’’Our deepest condolonces your grace. The people weep at the knowledge of the emperor’s demise.They light candles and pray in his names’’ Lord Vratinius of house Bax spoke as he bowed his head. At thirty-three, he was the youngest among the council members, yet his position as patriarch of one of the capital’s most influential magnate families demanded respect.

Physically, Lord Vratinius was unremarkable, with a slight build that seemed at odds with his formidable presence in the political arena. His hands, though well-manicured, were small and delicate, a trait that contrasted with the strength of his character. His long nose added a certain austerity to his appearance, while his cheekbones protruded slightly, giving his face a gaunt, almost skeletal quality.

’’Our prays reside with the imperial family your grace’’ Lord Croxiatus of House Vox, known for his bald pate gleaming under the dim candlelight, spoke with a calm voice . His words were measured, each syllable always chosen well

Despite the lack of hair atop his head, Lord Croxiatus was anything but weak. His baldness seemed to accentuate the sharp angles of his face, giving him a regal air. His complexion was fair, with skin that appeared almost porcelain.

With each word he uttered, Lord Croxiatus’s teeth, white and perfectly aligned, peeked through his thin lips. There was a hint of plumpness to his cheeks, a small gift given by a life of luxury.

’’May the gods bless his soul ’’Lord Marcellus of house Thalassos spoke. His dark, windswept hair and weathered features neatly combed to the back of his head. His eyes brown and hard seemed so strong when one gaze at them that they could cut steel.

’’And that of the imperial family’’ Continued Lord Isidor of House Veritia with his fair complexion and angular features. His blue eyes , such a wonder to sight, were now downcast towards the ground , not meeting with those of the queen.

The queen’s eyes seemed rather pleased as she saw such strong magnates bowing to her. Yet she quickly hid such thoughts as she continued

’’The empire may weep for it has lost his father , but we as the one blessed by the gods should instead think of the greater good and must be start to talk about what comes next ...’’

Her eyes moved to those of the magnates, almost as if gazing at who is her enemy or her ally .

’’We should start talking about what comes ...., i believe it is time to discuss issue concerning the inheritance.’’

’’Your grace, I presume you wish to call upon Maesinius to take the throne, he is the eldest and-’’ lord Vratinius started before being cut off by Isidor

’’ And also 150 leagues from here and deep in the snow of the north, a bit away don’t you think my lords?’’ She responded with a small smile

’’Aye the last thing we need is for the prince to bring the snow to us, it’s rather warm here I fear and I think he may not find it suitable for him . ’’

’’Comes spring , the snow melts’’ The queen muttered ’’That is true , it appears that Maesinius prefer the hard and brute company of the north instead of the elegant ways of the south’’

’’Well there would be the second prince your grace’’ Croxiatus spoke, his double chin jingling as he opened his mouth

’’We offer the crown to Vitellio and instead of snow we will be covered in whores, we will have them serving our wines , tidying our beds and the palace will soon be swarmed by bastards’’ The queen spoke , her face almost scowling

’’Such depravity cannot be allowed your grace’’ Isidor spoke, nodding like a dog

’’Nor the brutality or inelegance of the north’’ Marcellus quipped

’’It is the duty of old to teach to the young , perhapse we should move our eyes closer to us instead of farther’’ She muttered as she threw the possibility of choosing instead her young and clay-like son.Which of the three prince was the only one who shared her blood.