Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The farmer stood outside in his field, clutching his cane, surveying the wintery landscape laid bare before him. The crops were dormant, the land quiet beneath a thin wind, leaving him with little else to do but guard his field from any birds or stray animals that might come scavenging. To pass the time, he absently played with a stalk of weed he’d plucked from the ground, snapping it between his calloused fingers into tiny pieces, letting them fall to the soil below.

Then, he heard it: the patter of hurried footsteps and the urgent voice of his young son, breaking through the stillness.

”Father! There are ships!” the boy cried, excitement and confusion in his voice as he ran to his father’s side.

The farmer’s brow furrowed as he looked down at the boy. ”Ships?” he asked, his mind searching for a reason any vessel would be nearing their small coastal village at this time of year.

Perhaps a merchant looking to resupply with food and water?

”Yes,” the boy insisted, pointing with one hand toward the sea. ”Two ships, coming close!”

His gut stirred with a faint, creeping unease. Ships rarely visited their quiet shores in the dead of winter, and those that did were usually trading boats, yet they used to move alone . He knelt down, pressing the cane into his son’s hand.

”Watch th’ field,” he said, his voice thick with an odd worry he couldn’t quite place. ”Don’t let anything come near.”

With one last look at his son, he turned and set off, moving as fast as his sturdy legs would take him. The cold air stung his face as he ran, his feet crunching against the frozen earth. Cresting the small ridge overlooking the sea, he caught sight of the two ships, their hulls dark and slender, drawing closer to shore.

He squinted, his heart beating faster. These ships weren’t like any of the familiar traders that sometimes passed by. Sleek and narrow, they moved with a silent purpose, cutting through the water with an ominous grace that sent a chill through him far deeper than the winter wind.

The farmer, though only in his thirties, vividly remembered the tales that had once haunted the coastline—the pestilence of pirates, marauding like a curse on the sea. He’d been a young boy when the empire declared victory over those bands of raiders, promising no more raid at last.

It seemed like a story almost forgotten, something the empire had dealt with and sealed away forever. But now, as he gazed out at those slender, black-hulled ships, memories from his youth clawed back to life as unburied secret.

He remembered those terrifying moments as a child, when cries of warning would ring through the village. He remembered the sight of strange, sinister ships slipping up to shore, and the horror they brought in their wake—people seized and taken, slaves ferried off to faraway coasts. In those days, their village had kept a boy stationed on the look-out at all hours, a horn in his hand, ready to sound the alarm at the first glimpse of sails on the horizon.

The farmer’s stomach twisted. They’ve returned. His heart thundered with a mixture of dread and urgency as he turned, and his voice erupted into the still morning air.

”Pirates!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the fields. ”Pirates! They’re coming!”

He broke into a run, his footsteps pounding as he bolted back toward the village, his shouts gaining fervor. ”Pirates! Pirates!”

Windows creaked open, and sleepy villagers stepped out of their homes to hear the cries echoing through the streets. The warning sparked terror. Families rushed back indoors, mothers gathering children close, fathers grabbing what few weapons they kept, some already heading toward the woods to hide.

The farmer did the same, bursting into his own home, breathless, his face pale with urgency. He gathered his family, his wife clutching their youngest child, her face wide with fear.

”Get what you can carry. We’re leaving—now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. He glanced out the window one last time, feeling the weight of old memories pressing against his heart as he watched the black ships closing in on their peaceful shores.

And so the pirates were roaming the sea once again...terrorizing anything in thier wake

----------------------

In the grand hall of Yarzat, Jasmine and Alpheo sat side by side on their thrones, gazing out over the line of petitioners that stretched before them. The room was adorned with tall, arched windows that cast a steady light upon the scene, illuminating the rich tapestries and dark stone walls that lent an air of dignity to the court. Jasmine, with her keen eyes and dignified posture, exuded a quiet authority, while Alpheo, with a steady gaze and hands resting firmly on the armrests, simply wished for the whole thing to finish quickly.

Petitioner after petitioner came forward, each one humbling themselves before the rulers. The line moved slowly but steadily as hours passed, and the concerns of the citizens were presented in turn. Some asked for help with bands of wolves terrorising the villages near the eastern forests, other pleaded for permission to cut trees and hunt within the royal forests.

As the hours wore on, the line finally dwindled, leaving the last petitioner to step forward. He was a rough-looking figure, his clothing worn and patched, standing out against the more modestly respectable attire of those who had come before. His tunic was stained and frayed, and his shoes were clearly many years past their prime. With a solemn expression, he made his way to the throne, and when he reached the dais, he dropped to his knees, bowing low before Jasmine and Alpheo, as all citizens were expected to do before their rulers.

The man remained on his knees, head bowed respectfully, awaiting permission to speak. Silence fell in the grand hall, and all eyes turned to the lone figure, his form a humble contrast against the opulence of the royal court.

Jasmine gave the man a slight nod, her gaze steady. ”You may speak,” she said, her voice calm and measured.

The man cleared his throat, his rough voice cracking as he began. ”My name’s Darrin , Your Majesty. I come from a village not far from Aracina—ain’t but a few hours’ walk out. Been a farmer all my life. But somethin’ bad happened.”

He looked up, his face worn and weathered, filled with desperation. ”Pirates came,” he said, his voice trembling ”Came up from the sea, more than six weeks back. Took near all we had, they did. Busted into our stores, took our grains, our tools, killed our animals...anything they couldn’t carry off, they ruined.The old folks that could not run were killed in their beds”

Jasmine leaned forward slightly, her brows knitting. ”Why did you not appeal to the governor of Aracina?”

Darrin shook his head bitterly. ”We did, Your Majesty! We begged him! Sent a runner to Aracina right after it happened. Got nothin’ but a promise, and it’s been more than a month since. Not a scrap o’ help from the city.”

He glanced around at the gathered courtiers, then back up at the queen, desperation clear in his eyes. ”We’re hurtin’, Your Majesty. We’re cold; got near no wood left for fires, an’ winter comin’ in hard now. We got no livestock left either. The few animals we did have, well, the pirates took ’em or slit ’em where they stood. An’ the food...half our stock, Your Majesty . Gone. All that we worked for.”

Darrin’s voice broke, and he lowered his head. ”Half our folks’ll starve come winter’s end, that’s what we’re thinkin’. The young ’uns, the old folk...ain’t much we can do for ’em. We’re just askin’ for enough to see us through, is all.”

Jasmine’s expression softened as she took in the man’s pleas. ”Help will be sent to you and your village immediately,” she said, her voice firm with resolve. ”For this winter, I grant you and your people permission to cut trees and hunt freely within the royal forest. Gather as much firewood and game as you need to survive the cold.”

The farmer’s eyes widened with gratitude, and he dropped his head low in respect, clasping his hands. ”Oh, thank you, Your Grace. Bless you,” he said, his voice trembling. ”Thank you, bless you a thousand times over.”

Jasmine gave a small nod. ”Furthermore, while you are in Yarzat, I will see to it that you are taken care of. You’ll have a place at an inn tonight, all expenses covered. By week’s end, you will be guided back to your village, where my men will be delivering food and supplies to see you through the worst of the season.”

Tears filled the farmer’s eyes as he bowed lower, his voice thick with gratitude. ”You’ve saved us, Your Grace. Truly. Thank you... Thank you...”

As Jasmine nodded to her attendants, they moved to guide the man from the hall, his face still etched with wonder.

As the last petitioner left, the vast chamber began to empty, attendants and advisors filing out in respectful silence. Alpheo rose from his throne, stretching his back with a weary sigh. ”Was this the third case of a village raid this month?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jasmine, still seated, shook her head, her expression tight. ”The fourth,” she corrected softly. ”It’s getting worse. Something must be done, Alpheo. Can’t have half my food reserved used for villages that should be the one producing it for me.

Alpheo nodded thoughtfully, pacing a few steps down from the dais. ”We could divide the army,” he suggested, though he sounded less than enthusiastic. ”Station them along the coastlines. At least we’d have some forces nearby to respond quickly, maybe take out one or two raiding parties if we’re fortunate.We have got no war until spring , so at least we can do that for now. ”

He paused, glancing back at her, his face grim. ”But if we’re going to solve this for good, Jasmine, we’ll need more than just scattered troops.” His tone grew resolute. ”It’s time to consider a different approach. We need a navy of our own.”

Alpheo paused in his pacing, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ”We currently have around 15,000 silverii in the coffers,” he began, ”and after covering all army expenses, we’re still taking in another three to four thousand each month. Setting aside nine thousand of that for some ships wouldn’t be a strain on us.If we don’t do this now , then when?”

Jasmine considered this, tapping her fingers on the ”Do we have the capabilities for it though?’’ she countered. ”Some people near the sea barely know how to build a fishing ships; I don’t think we have the human’s resources for building galleys...’’

Alpheo nodded, a small, knowing smile crossing his face. ”True. But I could call in a favor from the emperor’s regent.” He let the idea settle between them for a moment. ”We’ve exchanged a few cordial letters recently, and I suspect he’d be quite open to sharing some of the empire’s shipwrights, especially if we add a few ’gifts’ to smooth the path.They have so many after all, they won’t miss one or two.”

Jasmine’s expression softened, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.’’Very well, I will leave it to you, as long as next year we don’t have to deal with such news anymore.’’

And so to the seas we go, Alpheo thought with a beautiful smile as he always wanted for Yarzat to have a navy of his own, and right now he had finally got they okay to start working on it.