Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The leisure hall of the palace was a cozy,small chamber, meant not for formal gatherings or grand displays but for the quiet, personal moments of the royal family. The room was adorned with soft, cream-colored drapes that fluttered slightly in the evening breeze filtering through an arched window.

The prince consort of Yarzat, sat comfortably on a plush sofa with deep, soft cushions that seemed to mold to his form. He was reclined slightly, a small table beside him holding a tray of fresh grapes and a goblet of watered wine. With one hand, he absentmindedly plucked a grape and popped it into his mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. In the other, he held a report—a neatly penned summary from his army officers. The pages crinkled faintly as he turned them, his sharp eyes scanning the words with practiced ease.

A small wooden desk stood nearby, stacked with unopened scrolls and letters, but for now, the sofa served as his workspace. This room, with its inviting quiet and modest charm, had become his favored retreat for handling lighter tasks of governance.As unlike the big and vast hall room and working station, this small chamber allowed him to relax while working on light work, that did not require much concentration for him.He usually used it whenever he had to read the monthly report from some of the branches of the state, the first one being about the military.

The aftermath of the first campaign against Herculia was nothign short of a success ,especially given the odds. The White Company, his most dependable force, had unfortunately suffered significant losses—130 soldiers between the dead and the wounded that would not be able to return the fight, an acceptable rate given just how hard was the task that Alpheo had assigned them . Though the sting of such losses lingered, especially among the veterans who mourned their fallen brothers who they had been comrades of for years way back before following Alpheo south , it did little to dampen the spirit of the campaign’s success.(in comments there is territorial change that came from the conflict)

What truly surprised Alpheo, however, was how swiftly these losses were replenished. The influx of recruits that poured into the recruiting stations in the capital was nothing short of overwhelming.

Apparently the sight of returning soldiers weighed down by purses brimming with coin spoke louder than any decree or proclamation. These men, strutting through markets and taverns, became visual proof to the rewards of service. Tales of their victories, exaggerated as they passed from tongue to tongue, painted the campaing as a glorious and money grabbing endevour, where they outnumbered five to one , had managed to break through the enemy through simple and sheer force of arms.

As soon as the first day of recruitment was announced , Alpheo found out that the amount of recruits that tried to join the elite-core army of the crown reached the three-thousands. Which was a lot considering Yarzat had a population of 25,000 people, but understandable given the great amount of perks that followed being accepted into the White Army.

After giving a quick look at the figures coming from the first recruitment wave, the prince started reviewing the latest reports from his captains stationed along the coastline. The parchments detailed skirmishes and raids, recounting victories where pirate bands were intercepted in the field or driven out of coastal villages. Though the losses were occasionally noted, the tone was one of measured success, indicating that the defensive efforts were holding firm and in some cases much to the prince’s happiness they even managed to capture the pirate’s ships.

For all his distaste for the sea-rats—marauders who dared to pillage his shores and disrupt trade—Alpheo found an unexpected utility in their menace. Pirates, for all their savagery, had become an unwitting tool in sharpening his forces.

The fresh recruits, drawn by tales of glory and wealth, had swelled the ranks of the White Company, so much that choosing which one to take was the hardest issue.

After only a few weeks of rigorous training, many were deployed to the anti-piracy efforts along the coast. There, in the chaos of real battle, they learned lessons no drill yard could teach. Fighting pirates was brutal, unpredictable, and far from the structured engagements they would face in formal warfare, after all they were trained to fight in formation, nonetheless ahead of forces who would without qualms retreat back to their ships at the sight of true soldiers they perfomred wall.

It was exactly the kind of crucible Alpheo needed to temper his green soldiers. After all, the worst thing about recruits was that they were not used to the sight of blood and the sensation of harming someone; as such, pirates were the perfect instruments to use to get rid of those.

As the reports noted engagements where these recruits held their ground, cut down raiders, or defended villages, Alpheo allowed himself a rare smirk. By the time the next major campaign came, these green soldiers would no longer be inexperienced farmhands, but bloodied soldiers.

As Alpheo kept on his reading , the door to the chamber creaked open, drawing Alpheo’s attention from the stack of reports. His brow furrowed, the irritation plain on his face. He had made it clear as he asked , or better yet —ordered—that he was not to be disturbed by the servants , this was in fact his little Personal Time as he liked to call it .

Yet as his eyes lifted to the figure stepping through the doorway, the confusion and irritation melted away.

It was Jasmine.

Alpheo quickly swallowed the piece of grape he had been chewing, as he greeted her warmly.

Without a word, Jasmine crossed the room and settled herself onto the sofa beside him. She reached for the bowl of grapes, plucking two and slipping them delicately into her mouth.

Alpheo observed her closely as she leaned back against the plush cushions, her eyes falling closed as a long sigh escaped her lips. The sound carried the weight of the day’s exertions, and Alpheo could see it clearly—she was tired.

Seems like she had an hard day

For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching her as the room fell silent, save for the faint rustle of papers and the distant hum of activity elsewhere in the palace. In the quiet, her weariness felt almost contagious, and Alpheo found himself setting aside the report in his hands, waiting for her to speak—or simply to rest, as these recent months had been testing for the both of them.

Alpheo leaned forward slightly ”Is everything all right?” he finally asked, his voice gentle but laced with curiosity that he had been plagued with since he was a boy.

Jasmine opened her eyes and turned to him, giving him a single look of distaste that pierced straight through him. Alpheo’s stomach dropped. He recognized that expression all too well—it meant he had something to do with her current state of displeasure, still he could not remember doing anything peculiar today?

Perhapse It was Egil?Did he slept with her ladies in waiting again?Shit, I don’t feel like grumbling to him like last time after all he knows I don’t give a heck about whom he put himself inside of....

”Did something happen?” he ventured cautiously, his voice trailing off. He watched as Jasmine picked another grape from the bowl and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly before replying.

”I’ve just spent the better part of my day dealing with the grumblings of the nobles,” she said, her tone clipped yet still measured. ”Apparently, they’ve seen fit to draft a common signed petition to the crown.”

Seems like I owe him an apology, Alpheo thought as he arched an eyebrow. ”About what?”

She sighed, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face, the faintest hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice. ”Most of the governors whose power was recently reduced—those who once managed everything, from military to taxation to law—are none too pleased about now only dealing with city administration. So displeased, in fact, that they’ve written to their cousins, uncles, and anyone else among the landed nobility who would listen. Naturally, these noble benefactors spread the word far and wide, culminating in this... noble and just petition sent by our leal vassals, begging the crown to undo the turmoil caused by your changes.”

Alpheo leaned back, his lips tightening as he absorbed her words. ”And what exactly did you tell them?” he asked cautiously.

Jasmine gave a humorless smile. ”I told them precisely what they needed to hear to keep their egos soothed and their tempers at bay,” she said. ”Which is to say, I nobly stalled for time.”

”So, what do you intend to do about it?Give in?”

Jasmine gave a dry chuckle ”I intend to tell them to go to fuck themselves ” she said bluntly, in a tone that surprised even Alpheo for it was the first time he heard her swear. She let the weight of her words settle before continuing, her voice quieter but no less determined.

”Apparently, the governors in question managed to detract a fair amount of coin from their respective regions before their powers were reduced. If the first month’s pattern coming from our new governors is extrapolated for the entire year, the loss to the royal coffers would total at least 5,000 silverii,” she said, shaking her head,

She paused, meeting Alpheo’s gaze with a knowing look as he was the one that was right about the governors abusing their positions and pressing her into making those changes

”I plan to compile these findings into an organized report. Then, I’ll have private letters drafted to each of our esteemed former governors, graciously detailing our discoveries. In those letters, we’ll politely suggest they keep quiet about their grievances, lest the crown be forced to pursue... deeper investigations into their mismanagement.”

Alpheo let out a soft chuckle as leaned closer, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he placed his hands gently on Jasmine’s shoulders, kneading them in an attempt to ease her tension. ”Is there anything I can do to help you calm down?” he asked, his tone warm and earnest.

Jasmine chuckled lightly, swatting his hands away with an amused smirk. ”Fat chance,you know we can’t ” she teased, leaning back against the sofa. After a moment, she tilted her head toward him, her expression softening. ”Though, perhaps hearing about what gifts you’re preparing might do the trick.”

”Gifts?” Alpheo asked, a note of confusion in his voice. His brow furrowed as he searched her face for clarification.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming. ”Oh, don’t tell me you don’t know,” she said, clearly relishing his cluelessness. ”In the south, husbands are expected to prepare gifts for their wives before they give birth. It’s believed to bring good luck.”

Alpheo’s eyes widened slightly , he did not know of such thing . His confusion shifted to embarrassment, and Jasmine immediately picked up on it. Watching his expression, she couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head in mock disbelief. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she leaned forward and let her head rest on his lap.

”Normally,” she began, her tone teasing, ”it’s supposed to be a secret. The husband is meant to surprise his wife with the gift.” She chuckled. ”But given your, let’s say... ignorance on the matter, I’ll make an exception.”

With that, she reached up, her fingers threading into Alpheo’s hair. Before he could react, she tugged gently, pulling his head down until their faces were mere centimeters apart. Her lips curved into a sly smile as she spoke, her voice soft yet commanding, resembling that tone that she used when she spoke with him the first time they met, like that of a predator soothing a mouse.

”Before our child is born,there is only one thing I want,” she said ’’Give me Herculia and the head of Lechlian’’

Her gaze bore into his unblinking , as if daring him to deny her.