Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Lord Ilbert Hervius of Bricaterun sat heavily on his ornate wooden throne, its carved lions staring out with regal indifference. The dim light from the high windows cast jagged shadows across the hall, where a single envoy from Prince Lechlian stood, his expression a mask of politeness barely concealing his urgency.

”The Prince calls upon his loyal lords to rally once more,” the envoy declared, his voice firm yet carrying a faint tremor. ”He requires troops to assemble at the capital without delay, and so he demands from you to honor your dues made to his house and that you had renewed to him after his father .”

Ilbert leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed. He knew what the envoy didn’t dare spell out in too much detail. The prince’s forces had been gutted after the disastrous battle.

Though Lechlian had managed to retreat with his life, his army was reduced to a mere 1,900 within a week. Of the losses, only 700 were accounted for in battle—gruesome but not catastrophic for an army of that size. The real disaster laid in the aftermath.

Disillusioned and scattered, hundreds of soldiers deserted during the retreat. Many broke away from the main force, wandering through the countryside. Some sought their native villages, while others turned to a darker path. Armed with weapons issued for war, they now haunted the roads and forests as bandits, probably already planning to aim against peasants and carriages passing through.

To make matters worse, many lords close to Arduronaven, fearing for their own lands, had abandoned the prince’s cause entirely i They had retreated to their holdings, rallying their own forces for defense rather than risking further losses in the prince’s name. Ilbert had been one of them. And so from the nearly 2,000 men army, the actual force commanded by the prince was barely 1,100.

”I see,” Ilbert finally said, his tone measured as his fingers tapped the armrest of his throne. He hadn’t regretted his decision to return to Bricaterun after the prince’s retreat. Arduronaven’s fall had been a grim omen, and the winds of fortune were blowing stronger in the invader’s direction.

Lord Ilbert offered a faint, calculated smile, gesturing for the envoy to continue. After a brief pause, he however raised his hand as if to forestall any further argument.

”Please inform His Grace,” Ilbert said, his voice heavy with an air of regret, ”that I am, sadly and most unfortunately, unable to send any more men to his aid. My own forces are stretched thin, holding this land against the looming threat of invasion and raiding . As much as I desire to fulfill my duty, I cannot leave Bricaterun undefended.”

The envoy stiffened, his face tightening as he pressed his case. ”My lord, if I may... you swore an oath to the prince. It binds all lords to stand together in the defense of the princedom. The very stability of our lands depends on your loyalty to this cause.”

Ilbert raised a brow, his lips curving into a thin smile. ”And I am loyal,” he said smoothly. ”But tell me this—should I be leaving my subject’s homes open to plunder? Should I let their fields burn and their villages fall, just to honor an oath that our good prince has made increasingly difficult to uphold?”

The envoy’s cheeks flushed as he tried a different approach. ”If the enemy chooses to march through your lands, my lord, you won’t be able to hold them alone. Only united can we repel them. That is why the prince calls upon you now—to prevent such a disaster from befalling us all.”

Ilbert leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together as he gazed down at the envoy. His silence stretched just long enough to make the man shift uneasily under his scrutiny. Finally, the lord spoke, his tone patient, almost condescending.

Lord Ilbert leaned forward on his throne, his sharp gaze locking onto the envoy. ”Tell me, did His Grace answer Lord Vroghios’ call for aid? Surely the late lord must have sent some plea before his city fell and his head along.”

The envoy straightened his back, though his voice carried a note of discomfort as he replied. ”His Grace would have loved nothing more than to send aid to Vroghios. Unfortunately, we had just suffered a defeat and were in the midst of reassembling our scattered forces. The situation was... precarious.”

Ilbert’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. ”I see. So, while His Grace ’reassembled,’ Arduronaven fell. The city sacked, its people butchered. And Vroghios, executed like a common criminal.”

The envoy’s jaw tightened, but he quickly countered. ”All the more reason to band together now, my lord. This is why His Grace calls upon you—to prevent such a fate from falling upon the rest of the princedom.”

Ilbert chuckled darkly, his tone dripping with irony. ”Reason to band together? No my dear sir, it is reason for me to remain here. To defend my lands, my people, from the ’enemy force’ that so effectively dismantled your prince’s campaign. I’ve seen what happens when unity fails. I’ve no intention of letting Bricaterun share in that fate.”

The boy-prince has taken the last boulder standing between him and the capital, Ilbert mused. Arduronaven fell, and with it, the last bastion of resistance before the crown city. He must be planning to march straight to its gates, he is young and hot-headed surely he wishes to capture the capital to hoard the glory .

He snorted softly to himself, shaking his head.One defeat was enough for me. Let the boy test his mettle against the royal army, or whatever remnants Lechlian commands. Better for me to stay here, defend my fief, and keep my head attached to my shoulders.

The capital is after all no simple conquest. Its walls are high, its coffers deep. If the young prince may be a walking storm,the capital is certainly a mountain and yet the safest place it to stay away from its winds.

Breaking the lord’s line of thought , the heavy doors of the hall swung open with a resounding creak, interrupting the tense silence within. A man stepped inside, his clothes simple and travel-worn, a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. He moved with urgency, dropping to one knee as he reached the center of the room.

”Forgive me for entering without leave, my lord,” he said, his voice breathless yet steady. ”But I come bearing urgent news—the scouts have sighted the Yarzat’s army marching toward us.”

The hall froze. For a heartbeat, no one spoke or moved. The air hung heavy with tension, as silent and still as a crypt.

Ilbert’s eyes narrowed ”Did the scouts find a detachment, or is it the whole force?”

The envoy turned back, a flicker of unease crossing his face. ”We sighted the vanguard, my lord,” he said, shaking his head. ”The rest of the army is likely not far behind.”

Ilbert’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. So the bastard never aimed for the capital after all. He’s coming here.

The lord cursed silently, his teeth grinding together. Damn him. He wants this hall as another trophy to parade under his cursed banner.

Then Ilbert shot up from his throne, his face grim. ”Gil!” he barked, his voice echoing through the chamber as he called one of his sworn lord. ”Announce a curfew immediately! Mobilize the citizenry at once—I want ditches dug outside the walls before nightfall. Send riders across the countryside,” he continued his voice a clipped growl. ”Confiscate any food stores you find and bring them here. I won’t let the enemy feed themselves at our expense.”

Following the order Gill quickly bowed before getting into work.

The room erupted into movement as knights and attendants rushed to carry out their tasks. Ilbert stood still for a moment, his jaw set and his hands clenched into fists.

So much from staying out of trouble, when trouble comes your way...

Ilbert’s voice cut through the chaos like the swing of a blade. ”I want every citizen we can equip stationed on the walls. If they can hold a spear, get them up there.” His gaze turned to one of his knights. ”Order the blacksmith to melt down any scrap iron, horseshoes, hinges—whatever he can find—and forge them into weapons. We need every blade and spear we can muster.”

He turned back to the gathered men. ”I want the walls bristling with defenders—every man we can spare, no exceptions.” His tone brooked no argument.

As the hall emptied with knights and attendants scrambling to follow his commands, Ilbert’s sharp eyes landed on the envoy, who stood silently near the doorway.

”I hope your prince,” Ilbert said coldly, ”won’t make the same mistake he made with Arduronaven. Another lapse like that, and there won’t be a princedom that will rise to stand with him; losing one noble is already bad; must I spell out the consequence of losing two?”

The envoy bowed low, his face impassive, everyone knew that if the prince did not show any effort in aiding his lords for the second time , then they would have no need of any other reason to refuse to answer the call at arms of their liege . ”I will relay your concerns to His Grace immediately, my lord.” Without another word, he turned and departed the hall.

Ilbert stood there for a moment, watching the envoy leave, moving his legs away from the hall while refusing to answer his question, something that made him quite worried