Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

In a dimly lit corner of the bustling tavern, a burly man named Garvin sat with a tankard of ale in one hand, his other arm wrapped possessively around a young woman perched on his knee. The room buzzed with the chatter of patrons and the occasional clink of glass, but Garvin’s laughter cut above it all—a rough, throaty sound, half-drowned by the foam spilling over his cup as he drank deeply.

It was a time of celebration for him as his last job went well and provided him with 8 silverii, enough to go forward for at least three months if he used it sparingly, unfortunately, Garvin was many thing but parsimonious was not one of them.

The woman on his lap, a local night girl with dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders, giggled as Garvin’s hand traced a path along her waist. She leaned into him, her laughter soft and feigned, her fingers dancing along the edge of his collar. Garvin’s grip tightened around her, his hand slipping lower with a crude grin as he whispered something that made her laugh again, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

Garvin lifted his tankard, taking a long, unhurried gulp as the ale sloshed over the edges, the foam dripping into his scruffy beard. He chuckled, entirely at ease, but his companion’s smile began to wane. Her gaze had drifted over his shoulder, and her laughter faltered, eyes widening as she caught sight of something, or rather someone, behind him.

Noticing the change, Garvin looked up, frowning slightly. He followed her gaze before slowly turning, only to find himself face-to-face with Ravinius. Cloaked in dark, finely tailored attire, Ravinius stood with an unsettling stillness, his presence imposing even in the crowded tavern. His steely gaze lingered on the girl just long enough to make his meaning clear, and without a word, she slipped from Garvin’s lap, her face pale as she backed away before disappearing into the crowd.

”Oi!” Garvin growled, raising his empty tankard in protest. ”I paid for her company, y’know.” His complaint hung in the air, almost petulant against the heavy silence that now settled between him and Ravinius.

Ravinius was known as the man one sought out when in need of a quick job for quick cash—a broker of shadowy deals and risky ventures. He had disappeared for a few months and many along Garvin believed he was dead, and yet apparently he was not .

Normally, it was men like Garvin who had to seek him out, chasing rumors and paying in coins or favors just for a chance at his table, as his jobs were usually the most lucrative . But tonight, here Ravinius was, sitting across from him, his piercing gaze unyielding and silent.

Garvin eyed him warily, then let out a low chuckle. ”Can’t say this happens often,” he remarked, swirling the dregs of his ale and lifting it for a long sip. ”You coming to me, that is. Usually, it’s the other way around.Many thought you dead you kno...” He watched Ravinius’s face for any flicker of response, but the man’s expression remained unreadable, cold as a winter lake.

Setting his tankard down, Garvin straightened, scratching his scruffy jaw. ”And as far as I know, I don’t owe you anything,” he added, his tone edged with forced bravado as he leaned back, crossing his arms.

Ravinius raised an eyebrow, his voice low and calm as he finally spoke. ”Are you interested in a job?”

Garvin squinted at Ravinius, suspicion simmering in his gaze. He leaned forward, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the scarred wood of the table. ”And who would this job be for?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and caution. Despite the allure of Ravinius’s reputation, Garvin had learned long ago that nothing with him was ever as straightforward as it seemed. If Ravinius was here offering him a job personally, the stakes must be high, dozens of young fool would kill their mother to enter Ravinius’s payroll, but if he came personally to hire, then there was something wrong with the job.

Ravinius met his stare, calm and composed, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his face. With a slight tilt of his head, he answered, ”I can’t say unless you agree to take it.” His tone was flat.

Garvin let out a rough, short laugh, leaning back with a slight shake of his head. He adjusted his weight, shifting uncomfortably under the unrelenting stare of the man across from him. ”All right, then,” he said, his tone edged with skepticism. ”But how long is this job supposed to last?”

Ravinius paused, his expression as unreadable as ever. ”Long,” he replied simply, letting the weight of that single word settle between them.

Garvin scratched his chin, thoughtful. ”I’m not used to long jobs ’’ he muttered, narrowing his eyes, weighing the new line of work . Most of his workjobs had always been brief, gritty affairs—quick and dirty, in and out before things could get too complicated. A job that stretched on and on was a gamble, and he wasn’t a man who enjoyed having his fate tied up in something indefinite.

Ravinius didn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unwavering. ”The pay is good,” he said, his words cutting through Garvin’s hesitance. ”Very good.”

Despite himself, Garvin felt his interest rekindling. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, though there was a glint of intrigue in his eyes. ”How much are we talking?”

”Thirty silverii a month, two hundred in lump sum at the end”

The words landed with the weight of a sledgehammer, and Garvin blinked, taken aback. The prospect of that much steady coin was enough to make even the most cautious man think twice. For someone like him, who often had to scramble for jobs that barely scraped together half that amount, it was more than tempting; it was life-changing. He felt his pulse quicken, the allure of silver filling his mind.

Still, doubt remained. He let the words roll over him, turning them over in his mind. At a month. His voice was quieter now, as he weighed the implications, as if he were voicing a thought rather than a question. ”Just...how long is this job expected to last?” He kept his eyes fixed on Ravinius, waiting for the answer that might tell him just how deeply he’d be stepping into Ravinius’s shadow.

Ravinius’s gaze never wavered as he answered in a single, unhurried word. ”It is unknown yet it will be long.”

Garvin felt the weight of the word settle over him, heavy as an iron shackle. He sat back, thoughtful, running a hand over his unshaven chin as his mind turned over the risks that usually came with work like this. He’d been in the business long enough to know that when jobs stretched indefinitely, it often meant the kind of trouble that clung to a man and didn’t let go. Deep shit, he thought grimly, feeling a familiar prickle of unease. The sort of jobs where silver flowed easily also had a way of leading a man to dark, bloody places he might not come back from.

Sure, he could sway a few green-eyed fools, young ones who still saw the glint of silver as worth any risk. He could tell them to shut up, look away, and hold out their hands for pay without asking questions. But Garvin was no fool. He had clawed his way through enough scraps to know that money didn’t spend so well when you were dead.

”I’ll pass,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. ”That’s not the sort of job for me.”

But Ravinius made no move to stand, nor did he even blink at Garvin’s refusal. He simply sat, his gaze fixed on him with an unsettling, unyielding intensity. There was something too steady, too certain, in the man’s expression, and as he stared, Garvin felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Ravinius wasn’t pressuring him, not outright, but the silence, the sheer force of that stare, felt like a silent demand.

It was a gaze that told Garvin he hadn’t heard the end of this. And as much as he tried to shake it off, that chill clung to him.

Ravinius leaned in, his voice low and persuasive, smooth as oil yet edged with steel. ”I need proper men for a proper job, Garvin. Few can keep their mouths shut as well as you, especially with a good wage to keep them happy.” He paused, watching Garvin’s reaction, then continued, ”If thirty silver a month isn’t tempting enough, then perhaps forty will do.”

With that, Ravinius reached into his cloak, drawing out a heavy bag, and tossing it onto the table between them. The bag hit the wood with a satisfying thud, and as the leather settled, its contents spilled slightly—glimmering silver coins tumbling onto the scarred surface, catching the dim light in silvery flashes. Around them, the hum of conversation died down; patrons glanced over, eyes wide as they took in the open display of wealth.

The tavern grew silent

Garvin felt the tug of temptation gnawing at him, harder to resist than he wanted to admit. The mere sight of that much coin, was the sort of offer that could loosen even the firmest of refusals.

And yet, the silver glinted at him from the table, shining with the promise of comfort and ease. Garvin’s fingers twitched, hovering over the coins for a heartbeat too long. Before he could think twice, his hand closed around the bag, the weight of the silver heavy in his grip.

Ravinius gave a single, approving nod. ”Good,” he murmured, satisfaction evident in his tone as he rose from his seat with a smooth, measured grace.

Garvin cleared his throat, glancing down at the bag of silver before looking up. ”When does this job start, then?” he asked, still wary beneath the allure of easy money.

”Tomorrow,” Ravinius replied, his eyes unreadable. ”I’ll come to you with the proper tools.” He turned toward the door, moving with the same purposeful calm that had drawn all eyes when he entered.

Pausing at the threshold, he cast a cold, sweeping gaze around the tavern, then spoke in a loud, firm voice that cut through the murmurs and whispers. ”That man there,” he said, gesturing briefly toward Garvin, ”is now under me.”

The scattered patrons eyeing Garvin and his newfound wealth quickly looked away, the unspoken threat behind Ravinius’s declaration enough to halt any half-formed plans of lightening Garvin’s purse. Ravinius waited a beat, letting the silence deepen before finally stepping out into the night.

Garvin watched him go, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment before he tucked the bag close, aware of too many eyes still on him. After a few seconds, he stood as well, knowing better than to let a full purse linger in the same place as a crowd and cheap ale.