Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

In her private chambers, Valeria sat with a slender silver goblet in hand, the wine within casting a dark red gleam in the low candlelight. She sipped absently, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. He was middle-aged, with dark, neck-length hair framing a hawk-like nose and falling on the sides of his face.

Valeria eyed him critically, her fingers tracing the edge of the cup as she broke the silence. ”Tell me,” she asked coolly, ”how long have you served under Lord Marcellus?”

Ravinius kept his gaze averted, his knee firmly on the ground. ”Nearly a year, your grace” he replied smoothly, his tone respectful.

Valeria’s eyes drifted back to her cup, but she found little comfort in it, her distaste plain. The thought of having her steps shadowed by hired mercenaries like Ravinius unsettled her, even if he served her lover . This—this man, with no noble blood nor loyalty beyond coin, entrusted to her security by Marcellus himself? A part of her rankled at the decision,he could have at least selected someone of the equestrian class, someone with a proper lineage, and an ounce of honor that could not be bought by coins.

Valeria set her cup down with a soft clink, looking at Ravinius with renewed scrutiny. ”And tell me,” she asked, her voice edged with command, ”how many men do you have under you?”

”Thirty, your grace” Ravinius replied promptly.

Valeria allowed a slight nod, her thoughts calculating. Thirty, she thought, her mind flicking over the advantages. At least I have some numbers.

”And your orders?” she inquired, studying his expression closely.

Ravinius didn’t hesitate. ”We are here to serve you, your grace. Whatever you desire, it is our duty to see it done, lord Marcellus, let us know that we are here to serve every whim you may have.”

Valeria considered this, the faintest flicker of satisfaction settling over her features. ”Very well,” she said finally, rising from her seat. She gestured for him to follow. ”Come. You’ll accompany me to retrieve my newest guards.”

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In the dimly lit, secluded chamber of her royal quarters, Valeria stood tall, assessing the row of new guards assembled before her. The room was quiet, the heavy silence broken only by the muffled sounds of the palace beyond its thick walls. Each guard was outfitted in armor that gleamed under the sparse candlelight, crafted meticulously to the standard of the royal guard. Dark metal with gilded accents adorned their breastplates and shoulder guards, and crimson plumes crowned their polished helmets, signaling loyalty to the imperial family.

Valeria’s gaze moved from one guard to the next, her mind as sharp as her critical eye. Their origins may be low, she thought, her expression betraying neither approval nor disdain, but at least they’re fitted in proper attire. For all their pasts, each man bore the look of an elite protector in his new armor.

They would be her shield—and her tools.

Valeria’s gaze settled on Ravinius, the man standing at the head of her new guard. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head ever so slightly. ”Are you their captain, then?” she asked, her voice smooth yet edged with the unspoken expectation of absolute obedience.

Ravinius gave a respectful nod. ”I am, Your Grace.”

”Good,” she replied, a faint trace of satisfaction crossing her face. ”I want ten of them stationed outside my quarters at all times, day and night.” Her tone made it clear that this wasn’t merely a preference but a strict command.

”It will be done,” Ravinius answered, nodding once more.

Valeria cast one last appraising look at her newly acquired guard before turning back to Ravinius. ”Now,” she said, a touch of impatience woven into her tone, ”I’d like to take a walk in the garden.”

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Valeria strolled through the winding paths of her private garden, her steps deliberate and measured. Ten armored guards followed at a respectful distance, their polished armor glinting in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. As she walked, her mind turned to her son. If his lessons had ended as planned, he should be nearby.

As she rounded a corner bordered by flowering hedges, she spotted him—her son Mesha, carefree and spirited, laughing as he played with his dog. The animal leaped and bounded around him, its tail wagging with devotion, its joy a mirror of Mesha’s own untroubled smile.

Yes, the dog had been a good idea, a companion more manly and fitting for an emperor , she thought as he stared at her son.

For a moment, her gaze softened, watching him chase the dog, his laughter spilling through.

Yet with the tail of her eyes she saw the guards that her father had appointed for him, getting closer as they caught sight of her.

Just two, she thought pleasantry as she outnumbered them five to one; they could be soldiers while hers be hired crooks, but with this number even a child would win.

Yet, as her gaze lingered on the pair, the relief gave way to a slow anger that began to rise within her. Two guards? That was all they thought was needed for the heir of the empire? Mesha’s safety was being balanced on the thinnest thread of security by her father , more a show than a genuine precaution. The palace should have been the heart of her son’s protection; instead, it seemed it was yet another place where he was vulnerable.

What if I were an assassin myself? she thought, watching the guards stiffen as they neared her, only their duty holding them firm in her presence. With so little defense, the Achaean-Romelian line could be cut down on this pleasant afternoon. One moment, one knife, and her son’s entire future would be severed before he could even grow into his heritage.

She looked back at Mesha, laughing and playing unaware. The thought made her chest tighten with a renewed sense of honor. If I must ensure his safety myself, she resolved, then so be it.

The older guard anointed by her father , Alaric, stepped closer to Mesha, his hand gently but firmly guiding the boy behind him. His movements were subtle, but his eyes remained sharp, focused solely on Valeria and her retinue.

”Is it not customary to greet the Empress Mother?” Valeria’s voice was smooth, almost a gentle chide.

Alaric, though, maintained his stance for a heartbeat longer before giving a shallow bow. ”Your Grace,” he greeted, his tone careful but polite, his eyes never fully leaving hers. He bent closer to Darius, his younger companion, murmuring a single order under his breath. Without hesitation, Darius took off running, his feet barely making a sound on the garden path.

Valeria’s gaze tracked Darius’s retreat, and her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing. She knew at once why he had left—Alaric had sent him for reinforcements. Her instincts flared; she was out of time.

With the faintest nod in Ravinius’s direction, she set her plan into motion.

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Alaric’s pov:

Help had been called, and now all they had to do was hold out long enough for the regent’s forces to arrive. Every moment counted, and Alaric knew it.

Valeria stepped forward, her tone deceptively calm, though her eyes hinted at a rising irritation. ”I would like to speak with my son alone,sir..” she said, her voice smooth yet firm.

Alaric’s face was stone. ”Apologies, Your Grace, but our orders are clear. We are not to leave him alone—especially with you.”

For a brief second, a flicker of pure anger flashed across Valeria’s face, though it quickly faded. Her guards tensed, catching the unspoken command, and began to move in unison, stepping forward with predatory intent.

’’Your grace, please get behind me.’’ Alaric said calmly as he threw the boy behind him,positioning himself as a shield between the young emperor and the Empress Mother’s approaching men.

Sensing that battle was imminent, Alaric didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he drew his sword, the blade glinting under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees as he danced against those that wanted to harm his liege.

One of Valeria’s guards charged forward, his sword raised clumsily above his head in an unbalanced swing. Alaric watched the movement, and in an instant, he knew—these men weren’t warriors.

With practiced precision, Alaric sidestepped the incoming blade, catching the guard’s wrist with a deft parry that sent the blow harmlessly to the side. Before his opponent could recover, Alaric slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the ground with a grunt.

Alaric sidestepped as another guard lunged toward him, his blade aimed too high. In a swift, almost instinctive movement, Alaric deflected the strike with a flick of his wrist,steel connecting with stell, he then pivoted, slicing his sword low behind the man’s thigh. The blade cut deep, severing muscle and sending the guard crumpling to the ground with a scream of pain, his weapon slipping from his grasp.

Without hesitation, Alaric delivered a backhand slap with his gauntlet across the man’s jaw, silencing him instantly. He didn’t bother to watch the man fall; his eyes were already on the next assailant.

The other came at him swinging his blade diagonally , Alaric easily deflected the blow and with an-all-in-one motion struck his sword onto the neck of his opponent, passing through one end and going the other.

Before he could wrench it free, a sharp, brutal blow slammed into the back of his head—a heavy strike from a sword hilt,as no matter his skill he was still outnumbered twenty to one. His vision swam, and the strength drained from his grip as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Two of the Empress’s guards moved swiftly, seizing young Emperor Mesha. He struggled, eyes wide with panic, but a hand clamped firmly over his mouth, muffling his voice. His gaze flickered desperately toward Alaric, lying unmoving on the ground.

One of them , Garvin, pressed his boot into the older guard’s back, pinning him down with a smirk as he raised his blade, ready to finish the job. Yet before he could strike, Valeria’s voice rang out, sharp and imperious.

”Stop it,” she commanded, her tone cold.’’Leave him be. We are not bandits,he is a sworn knight to the emperor and will be treated accordingly .’’

Garvin glanced up, his eyes meeting hers.He bowed , his hung head hiding the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face. Yet he obeyed, sheathing his sword as he stepped back, leaving Alaric sprawled and defenseless on the ground as the Empress’s guards pulled the terrified emperor away.