Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The army moved steadily along the well-worn road, the rhythmic clinking of armor and the soft thud of boots against packed earth filling the crisp morning air. Banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, the falcon of Yarzat standing proudly against the pale blue sky. Soldiers marched in ordered lines, their faces uplifted by the thought of returning home and finally getting hold of their due payment . Supply wagons creaked under the weight of provisions and spoils, while the occasional neigh of a horse punctuated the steady cadence of the march.

Jarza, towering and broad-shouldered, rode beside Alpheo, his deep voice breaking the relative quiet. ”So, your grace ” he said with a crooked grin, ”are you excited to finally be home?

Alpheo, his smaller frame upright in the saddle, glanced at his long-time companion with a faint smirk. His dark hair, now longer from the weeks on campaign, shifted slightly with the motion. ”I’ve had my fill of war for now, Jarza,” he replied with a tired chuckle. ”These last two months have been exhausting, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I’m relieved to be heading back. Rest sounds like a luxury I’ve sorely missed.”

Jarza barked a laugh, his broad shoulders shaking as he adjusted the reins of his horse. ”Tiring for you?” he said, his tone laced with playful incredulity. ”Imagine what it’s been like for that Herculean prince! While you’re getting ready to rest, I’d wager he’s still trying to scrape together the pieces of his pride—if he can even find them.”

Alpheo chuckled, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. ”For him,” he said dryly, ”the next few years will be a living hell. Mending scorched lands,facing famines, placating vassals who are likely questioning their allegiance after this debacle of his... I almost feel sorry for the man.”

Jarza raised an eyebrow. ”Almost?”

”Almost,” Alpheo repeated, his grin widening slightly. ”But not quite.”

”It’s a shame we didn’t press on,” he mused, his voice carrying over the steady din of the marching army. ”With their forces shattered and their morale in the dirt, we could’ve taken their castles with barely any effort. A full victory was within our grasp.”

Alpheo shook his head, his dark hair brushing the collar of his tunic. ”Food doesn’t fall from the sky, ” he said with a small smile. ”The campaign may have been glorious, but our provisions back in Bracum were nearly exhausted. We may win battles, but we can’t march an army on empty bellies.”

Jarza grunted, clearly not entirely satisfied with the practical answer. Alpheo continued, his tone shifting to one of calculated confidence. ”Still, it doesn’t mean this is the end of our work. Next year, when the stores are replenished, and the men rested, we’ll return. Their situation is dire—too dire to recover quickly. The odds will favor us even more heavily.”

The thought seemed to appease Jarza, who offered a grin. ”True enough. I doubt they’ll manage much beyond licking their wounds. When we come back, it’ll be like picking fruit from a tree.”

As their conversation trailed off, the atmosphere of the march shifted. Excitement rippled through the ranks as the familiar sight of the capital’s came into view on the horizon.

The soldiers, weary yet exhilarated, straightened their postures, their steps quickening at the sight of home. The promise of rest and reunion with the soldier’s family loomed near, and the capital, a sanctuary after months of hardship, welcomed them like a beacon

As the city came into view Alpheo felt a wave of relief wash over him, a mix of pride in his triumph and the bone-deep exhaustion of months of hard campaigning. But as he gazed at the city, a thought struck him with sudden clarity, piercing through his weariness like a shaft of sunlight: Jasmine.

She was now the mother of the child they now awaited. The realization struck him anew, and for a moment, the clamor of the marching army around him seemed to fade, leaving only the quickened beat of his heart.

He was about to become a father.

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Few hours later, Alpheo and Jasmine lay side by side in their bed, the warmth of the blanket cocooning their nude bodies. Jasmine’s hand, delicate and tender, moved slowly across Alpheo’s stomach, her fingertips lightly tracing the firm, familiar lines of his body.

There was no rush, no need for words—only the simple, comforting presence of each other. The reality of their shared life, of what was to come, settled in his chest, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to fully bask in the peace of being home.

Alpheo tilted his head toward Jasmine, his voice soft with curiosity. ”So, how has it been in my absence? Running the realm without me can’t have been too bad, surely.”

Jasmine sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face and giving him a wry smile. ”Harder than I expected,” she admitted. ”Doing everything you usually handle, and doing it all alone—it’s not something I’d care to repeat anytime soon. I’m glad you’re back. Truly.”

A grin tugged at Alpheo’s lips, his expression playful. ”It’s a wonder I’m not twice as gray with all I deal with,” he quipped, leaning a little closer.

Jasmine chuckled softly. ”Did you miss me?”

Alpheo shifted onto his side, brushing his fingers over hers. ”Of course,” he replied smoothly, his tone as earnest as the smile on his face. ”All the time.”

Not a chance, he thought to himself with a flash of humor. Between nearly losing battles, wrestling with supplies, and deciding which castle to torch next, there hadn’t been a spare moment to miss anyone. I have been neck-deep in shit to deal with at every turn .

Jasmine’s fingers moved gently over his arm, her touch light and soothing. ”Do you plan to march off to war again soon?” she asked, her voice quiet, though there was a slight edge of curiosity.

Alpheo let out a long breath, turning his gaze to the ceiling. ”For this year, I’ve had more than enough of bloodshed and sieges. Honestly, I think we could use this time to focus on the matters of the princedom—things closer to home. Roads to repair, trade to nurture, maybe even some peace to enjoy.”

He glanced at her with a soft smile. ”It might not sound as thrilling, but I think a bit of calm will do us all good.”

Amongst his many plans however, Alpheo’s thoughts lingered on one pressing issue that had been gnawing at him for years: the dire need for an aqueduct in the capital.Just the memory of the city’s inner quarters assaulted his senses,just the smell of piss and shit could be heard from outside the wall . Every time he walked the crowded streets, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of disgust and unease. The filth wasn’t just unpleasant; it was dangerous.

True, the stench alone was enough to make even the most hardened warrior’s stomach churn, but the greater concern was the looming threat of disease. Alpheo knew it wasn’t a matter of if an epidemic would break out, but when.

Yarzat needed to follow the example of the Empire, whose aqueducts and sewer systems ensured not only clean water but also healthier cities.After all epidemics do not take into account the status of people,as everybody , from slaves to kings can easily be one of their countless victims.

Alpheo’s thoughts flickered to his past, when he was still a slave, toiling endlessly in harsh and filthy conditions. He recalled the sight of his fellow slaves, their bodies marked with angry red bubbles that oozed and festered,

succumbing one by one to an epidemic that swept through the camp like wildfire.

Strangely, he had been spared,even though he slept and ate next them , as if fate had decided to shield him from the sickness. It wasn’t the first or the last time he had witnessed such horrors, but it had left an indelible mark. He knew all too well how filth and poor sanitation could become the breeding ground for death.

For years, he had dreamed of starting the project, but wars, rebellions, and the absence of financial security, impeded it .But now they could finally put their effort into it.

Alpheo felt a rare sense of fortune as his thoughts turned to Pontius, though officially assigned to lead the military engineers during the campaign, Pontius’s expertise extended far beyond siegecraft. His knowledge of infrastructure—bridges, roads, and aqueducts—was his one true strenght .

Alpheo had often been amused by the man’s not-so-subtle attempts to steer conversations toward the necessity of these.

Before they did not have the time and money for it . But now, in the aftermath of their successful campaign, Alpheo realized there would be no better time to act.

The coffers were flush with wealth—spoils taken from enemy territories, tributes imposed on subjugated lords, and the ever-reliable trade agreements with the Empire. Even more fortuitous was the capture of 450 prisoners during the war , could now be used as free laborers.

We must have it, Alpheo thought, his mind already envisioning the acquedoct already channeling water into the city. Clean water, flowing streets, and a city where people thrive instead of choke on their own filth