Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

A few kilometers outside Yarzat, nestled amidst rolling hills, stood a small, unassuming castle. Modest in size and humble in appearance, it lacked the grandeur of fortresses built to withstand sieges or house royal courts. Yet, despite its unremarkable dimensions, its significance to Alpheo’s rule was immense.

Within its wooden walls, the lifeblood of Alpheo’s private army was crafted—soap and cider. The castle was more than a military asset; it was the beating heart of his economic reign.

It was no exaggeration to say that the income from this small castle was literally the blood of Alpheo’s ambitions. Without the wealth generated here, the maintenance of his private army, with its salaries, provisions, and equipment, would have been an impossible dream.

Behind the prince stood ten of his bodyguards; he did not need more given he was in a safe place, simply meeting an old friend.

Alpheo’s gaze shifted across the bustling courtyard of the small castle, his eyes falling on a figure he hadn’t seen in two months. The man stood with his arms crossed, his short blonde hair tousled and falling just above his forehead, the familiar sharpness of his features softened by a smile .

On the other side of the yard, Clio noticed Alpheo at the same time, his expression breaking into something between relief and delight. Without hesitation, he moved toward Alpheo, his strides purposeful and sure, carrying with them a familiarity that needed no words.

The two men met halfway, their movements mirroring the years of trust and shared hardship between them. Alpheo grinned and clasped Clio’s forearm, pulling him into a firm embrace. ”Clio,” Alpheo greeted, his voice warm with recognition.

”Alpheo,” Clio replied with no qualms from using the direct name given they were in private, clapping him on the back. ”It’s about time.”

They pulled back just enough to study each other, taking in the subtle changes two months apart had etched on their faces. Alpheo smirked, shaking his head lightly, while Clio chuckled, his hand resting briefly on Alpheo’s shoulder.

As they stepped apart, Alpheo took a moment to study Clio, his gaze sharp and appraising.

”So, in my absence, has anything worth my attention happened here?” he asked, folding his arms loosely.

Clio shifted his stance, leaning one shoulder against a sturdy wooden post. He crossed his arms, his expression unbothered but attentive. ”Nothing too far out of the ordinary,” he began, his tone light. ”Though we’ve had our fair share of spies sneaking around, trying to get a look inside.”

Alpheo’s brow lifted slightly, though there was little surprise in his expression. ”Spies? I suppose that’s to be expected. And who sent them?”

Clio’s lips curved into a wry smile, and he let out a soft chuckle. ”It’d save us all some time if I just told you who didn’t send them.” His smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. ”Most of them didn’t live to regret their attempt. A few, though, we managed to take alive. After some... persuasion, they were quite generous with information.”

”And?” Alpheo prompted, though he already suspected the answer.

Clio sighed, running a hand through his short blonde hair. ”Every neighbor we’ve got. No exceptions.Kakunians , Oizens , hells even that foolish bastard of Herculia thought it was worth sending a few of his men to snoop around.”

Alpheo’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of irritation passed through his eyes. ”Predictable,” he muttered, his voice low and edged with disdain. His gaze swept briefly over the activity in the courtyard,.

”This isn’t new, though,” he added, his tone more reflective. ”Ever since we started producing enough here to matter, spies have been slithering in from every corner of the map. Still, it’s good to know that we’ve been able to keep a lid on it.”

Clio nodded, his expression lightening somewhat. ”It’s manageable. And I’ll give you this—those bastards don’t stop trying’’

As he said so stretched slightly, his arms falling to his sides as he glanced back toward the castle. ”So, ready for a little stretch?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of humor.

Alpheo’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he gave a single nod. ”Lead the way.”

Clio turned and gestured for him to follow, his voice taking on a more serious tone as they walked. ”Just as you requested, every entrance is locked down tight. Access is strictly limited to those we’ve vetted—only a handful of trusted guards and overseers come and go.”

Alpheo’s eyes roamed over the structure, taking in the fortifications as they moved. Clio continued, ”Inside, we’ve got about 300 workers, along with their families. All of them pulled from the slums, just as you ordered. None of them can read or write.”

At this, Alpheo’s smile widened slightly, a glimmer of satisfaction crossing his face. Exactly as I planned.

Having families together means the men will think long and hard before making foolish choices. And if they can’t write, they’ve no way to send word outside unless they’ve already got someone planted within. That’s a layer of trouble I don’t have to worry about.”

Clio cast a glance over his shoulder, his own grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he saw his expression ”I figured you’d be pleased. It’s a well-oiled machine here. Everyone knows their role, and no one wants to make waves—not with so much on the line.”

As the two kept walking Clio gestured toward a nearby building.. ”Every worker,” he continued, ”is fully registered. Name, age, place of origin—all logged, as you requested. And, as per your orders, we’ve got a portrait of each one stored, in that facility there .”

Alpheo glanced toward the building, his expression betraying neither approval nor surprise, though he appreciated the thoroughness. ”How long did that take?” he asked casually.

Clio rubbed the back of his neck, a faint smirk playing on his lips. ”Almost a month. Getting them all through took some effort’’

They walked further along the grounds, Clio’s lips curled up slightly as he continued. ”Had our share of complications, of course. Plenty of bastards tried to scale the walls at night or push their way through the gates during the day. Desperation, greed, or plain stupidity—I’ve stopped trying to figure it out.”

Alpheo raised an eyebrow. ”And how were they handled?”

Clio shrugged, his smirk turning into something colder. ”One way or another, they all ended up underground, after a long talk with our guards.... ’’

Having said that and with the tour continuing Clio meticulously guided Alpheo through every corner of the castle’s bustling operation, ensuring no detail was overlooked. He began by pointing out the vast storage facilities, where an impressive array of barrels, crates, and sacks were carefully arranged. Clio took a moment to emphasize the security measures in place, including the rotation schedule of guards assigned to watch over these critical supplies.

Moving further, Clio gestured toward the sprawling production buildings. Each one was dedicated to a specific stage of the manufacturing process. In the soap workshop, workers tended to cauldrons of boiling fat and lye, mixing the ingredients with practiced precision before pouring them into molds.

Smaller structures nearby housed the preparation and refinement of ingredients essential to both soap and cider, ensuring a steady supply chain for uninterrupted production.

Clio didn’t stop at showing the infrastructure. He also provided a detailed report on the operational efficiency and general output levels. He highlighted the workforce’s productivity and the challenges they’d overcome to maintain a steady pace.

Some time during the tour, Clio leaned against a nearby post, his gaze drifting over the bustling workers below. ”I’ll admit,” he said, his tone more wistful than bitter, ”I miss it sometimes—marching with you, fighting alongside everyone. Things were simpler then.”

Alpheo’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression serious. ”I understand,” he said, his voice measured. ”But I need someone I can trust here. I can’t exactly hand this responsibility to one of the knights serving my wife. Loyalty like yours is rare, Clio.”

Clio sighed, running a hand through his short blonde hair. ”Don’t misunderstand. I like the job—I do, it is calm and rewarding. But some days, I can’t help but feel like it was better when we were just soldiers. No politics, no endless paperwork, just sleeping , marching and sometimes fighting....”

Alpheo stepped closer, a small smile breaking through his stern demeanor as he clasped a firm hand on Clio’s shoulder. ”Well,” he said, a touch of mischief in his voice, ”do you know what I think will make you feel better?”

Clio raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. ”What?”

”A lordship,” Alpheo said matter-of-factly as he had just given a dog a biscuit, and not something that separated the 0,1% from the rest of the people they in fact ruled over. ”Some villages to call your own. I think it’s about time you were rewarded properly for all your hard work.”

Clio blinked, momentarily stunned. ”A—a lordship?” he stammered, his usual composure slipping, with a reaction more acceptable for the matter that was being discussed ”You’re serious?”

”Dead serious,” Alpheo replied, his grin widening. ”You’ve earned it, Clio.”

As realization dawned on him, Clio’s face turned a mix of disbelief and pride. For the first time, the weight of his dedication and loyalty seemed to take on a tangible reward. ”I... I don’t know what to say,” he finally managed, his voice wavering slightly.

”Then don’t say anything,” Alpheo said, his tone light but firm as he calpped him on the shoulder. ”Just keep doing what you’re doing and that will be more than enough”