Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Rykio stood silently near his horse, arms crossed as he watched his men move around as they trained to do . The torches were ready, the hay bundles gathered from the nearby fields and stored for moments like this. The soldiers worked quickly, stacking the dry hay tightly against the wooden walls of the temple, encircling it completely .

Rykio’s cold gaze swept over his men one final time. Then, with a sharp gesture of his hand, he gave the order. ”Do it.”

The soldiers smiled, a grim satisfaction lighting their faces. One by one, they began tossing the hay against the walls, piling it high. A few joked among themselves, but most worked in silence, awaiting for the fun to start.

Torches flared as they were lit, the flames snapping hungrily at the oily rags wrapped around their heads. With coordinated precision, the soldiers stepped forward, one man to each section of hay.

A soldier paused for a moment, a cruel grin splitting his face as he called out to those inside the temple. ”Hope you’re praying to your god, cowards! Not that it’ll help!” He chuckled darkly, then stooped down, pressing the torch against the dry hay. It ignited instantly, the flames roaring to life.

Around the temple, the scene repeated, torches kissing hay as fire climbed greedily along the wooden walls. The soldiers retreated, watching as the flames began to consume the temple’s base. The dry timber groaned and cracked, smoke curling into the sky in thick, black plumes.

Some of the men chuckled at the taunts hurled by their comrades, but most stood in grim silence, gripping their weapons, their faces illuminated by the growing firelight. The siege of the temple was nearly at its end.

Rykio raised his voice above the crackling of the growing flames, his tone sharp and commanding. ”To your positions! Form up!”

The soldiers immediately snapped to attention, the playful smirks and taunts fading from their faces. Each man hurried to his assigned role, moving with practiced precision honed by countless battles. Riders climbed onto their horses, the thudding of boots against stirrups and the creaking of leather saddles punctuating the smoky air.

Lines of cavalry began forming, their steeds snorting and stamping as if they, too, sensed the tension of the moment.

The soldiers moved seamlessly into position, splitting into three groups as they had been drilled under Egil’s command. Twenty men took up positions to the right of the temple doors, another twenty to the left, while the central line, forty strong, formed the core of the trap, directly facing the entrance.

The heat of the flames rippled in the night air, and the occasional creak of a saddle or a snort from a horse was the only sound apart from the roaring inferno.

Rykio sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the temple. He could feel the anticipation rolling off his men, but he gave no signal to act. They were waiting for the moment when desperation inside the temple would boil over.

Minutes stretched on, punctuated only by faint screams and muffled shouting from within. The tension mounted. Then, faintly at first, came the sound of things crashing to the ground. Heavy thuds and scraping noises followed, growing louder and more frantic.

The temple doors burst open with a sudden force, slamming against the walls as a tide of bodies surged out. Around forty pirates emerged, those at the front holding up shields in a tight line while moving as fast as they could. Their faces were pale with terror, streaked with soot and sweat, now that they were not fighting against defenseless farmers. They charged forward, weapons clutched tightly, as though desperation alone could win them the night.

Rykio leaned forward in his saddle, resting a gauntled hand on the pommel of his sword as he watched the scene unfold. He remembered when Egil had led them against the Herculean knights.

That was a day worth to be alivefor, Rykio thought as he recounted the glory of that day for their unit. Looking now at the band of fifty pirates running forward without proper equipment or discipline, the only word that could describe what he felt was disgust.

He exhaled slowly, his breath coming out heavy . ”Too easy,” he muttered under his breath.

Before he could issue a single command, his soldiers moved as if one body. They had drilled for this countless times, and instinct took over. Without hesitation, they acted, a deadly machine springing into motion to meet the charging pirates.

As soon as the pirates charged out of the temple doors, the flanking troops on both sides sprang into action. Javelins arced through the air in swift, deadly volleys. The first shield-bearers in the pirates’ ranks raised their defenses just in time, the sharp thuds of the missiles embedding into their wooden fronts.

But the men behind them weren’t as lucky as they had no protection.

The pirates, caught in the open, found themselves completely surrounded as the rain of javelins came from every direction. The men in the front tried to advance, their shields raised high to protect themselves, but with each step forward, more of their comrades fell. The projectiles sliced through the air, striking shields and unprotected flesh alike.

Some of the pirates in the middle and rear turned to face the assault from behind, but their makeshift defense faltered. Javelins pierced into backs and legs, bringing down men who had nowhere to run. A pirate with a spear hurled it wildly toward the enemy lines, but it fell short, bouncing harmlessly off the ground. Another threw a hatchet, the weapon spinning through the air, yet its arc ended far from any target, landing uselessly among the dirt.

Those without shields tried to duck and weave, some shouting curses, others screaming prayers to the gods, but few could escape the deadly rain. All the while, the soldiers of Rykio’s band stood firm in their formations, methodically launching volley after volley, ensuring no pirate could find refuge or rally their comrades.

A pirate took a javelin clean through the shoulder, the force spinning him sideways before he collapsed with a scream. Another missile struck a man in the thigh, tearing through flesh and bone; he crumpled, clutching at the wound as blood seeped onto the dirt. One javelin plunged into an unprotected gut, doubling its victim over before he toppled forward, unmoving but screaming .

The relentless rain of projectiles broke the cohesion of the pirate ranks, panic spreading as men tripped over the fallen, their momentum faltering under the assault.

Within minutes, the once-fierce charge of the fifty pirates had been reduced to a pitiful sight. Only twenty men stood without visible wounds, their shields battered and their weapons trembling in their hands. The rest lay on the ground, screaming in agony or silently clutching their wounds as blood seeped into the dirt. The relentless barrage of javelins had sown chaos, leaving the pirates disorganized and their morale in shreds.

The horsemen, having spent their javelins, reined in their mounts briefly. Then, at Rykio’s command, the line surged forward with a thunderous roar. The earth trembled beneath the hooves of the warhorses, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, their eyes fixed on the broken ranks of their enemies.

The charge hit like a storm. A pirate tried to swing his axe at an incoming rider, but the swing was blocked with a buckler before a mace smashed his skull apart.

Another man, attempting to fend off a cavalryman with his shield, was thrown to the ground as a blade slashed across his unprotected side.

The pirates tried to regroup. One of them lunged at a rider, his spear aiming high, but the horse reared, striking him in the face with its hooves. He crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his broken nose. In the center of the melee, a pair of pirates fought back-to-back, desperately fending off the attackers. One managed to strike a horse’s flank, causing it to rear and throw its rider, but before he could savor the victory, another cavalryman’s sword cleaved through his shoulder, sending him sprawling.

The screams of men, the neighing of horses, and the clash of steel filled the air. The pirates who still stood tried to flee back toward the temple, but the horsemen cut them down before they could make it far. The cavalry had shattered their formation, and now it was a rout—a bloodied, desperate fight for survival, with no quarter given.

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The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a blood-red glow over the beach as the tide lapped at the shore. Rykio stood tall, his armor splattered with blood and dirt, staring out at the vast expanse of the sea. Behind him, Svenn stood a few respectful paces away, his youthful face pale also splattered with blood. The air was thick with the agonized screams of the twenty two wounded pirates nailed onto wooden planks, their cries echoing toward the heavens as their bodies writhed against their restraints, with the cold salty water hitting their toes and feet.

Rykio folded his arms, watching the scene with an expression of detached contemplation. ”If I were a poet,” he said, his voice calm yet tinged with a dark humor, ”I would immortalize this moment in verse. Look at them—so close in their agony to the gods they prayed to for deliverance. Perhapse next time those rats swing here, they will think twice before boarding once they see our little welcoming flowers....’’

Svenn said nothing, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. His hands twitched at his sides, his unease palpable.

Rykio turned his head slightly, studying his young squire’s reaction. ”Perhaps I should bring Joanne here,” he mused, the ghost of a smirk on his face. ”Do you think she would appreciate this?’’

Svenn hesitated, raising an eyebrow as he struggled to find a response that would neither offend nor provoke. Finally, he said, his tone carefully measured, ”I wasn’t aware women’s tastes had shifted from jewels and flowers to dying men nailed to planks, sir.”

Rykio let out a short, sharp laugh, his smirk growing. ” A touch of wit suits you. You are growing.....”

Svenn said nothign to that, as the screams continued to pierce the salty air, blending with the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the men shouting at the sea.