Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Brother Elios walked with steady steps through the winding roads of Yarzat, his expression serene beneath the golden light of the setting sun.

Behind him, his pupils followed in silent reverence, their simple robes rustling with each movement. The city bustled around them, merchants calling out the last of their wares, children laughing as they dashed through the streets, and the scent of roasted spices drifting from nearby stalls. But none of it seemed to touch Elios—his mind was elsewhere, his thoughts lingering on the conversation that had just taken place.

One of the younger pupils, a boy barely past his twelth summer, quickened his step to walk beside him. His brows were furrowed with curiosity, his voice cautious but eager. ”Father Elios, did it go well?”

Elios turned to him with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling like a man who had seen the path unfold exactly as he had envisioned. He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. ”Ah, my child, the mercy of the gods is boundless. Their light touched the soul of our shepherds today, and so, in their wisdom, they have allowed us to do the work of the divine.”

The boy’s eyes widened with excitement. ”Then... we are truly allowed to go among the unfaithful?”

Elios let out a soft chuckle, his steps never slowing. ”Not only allowed, my dear boy. You may become helpers in a temple among them. A place where the lost may find their way, where the blind may see, and where the unfaithful may have the grace of the Star revealed to them.”

Another pupil, a young woman with a sharp gaze, spoke up from behind. ”And if they do not listen, Fathre? If they refuse the light?”

Elios sighed, though his smile did not falter. ”Patience, my child. The will of the gods is not turned by mortal stubbornness. We shall show them the way with kind words and open arms. Some will follow. Others will resist.”

He paused for a moment, glancing at the towering spires of Yarzat’s temples in the distance. His voice lowered slightly, though it was still rich with conviction.

”For now, we go as gentle hands. But in time, should the gods decree it... steel and fire will shape what words cannot.”

The pupils fell silent at his words, their expressions solemn as they followed their master down the road, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows behind them.

Elios walked with purpose, his grip firm around the wooden pole that bore the shining effigy of the Star. The sacred symbol swayed gently with each step, catching the last golden hues of the setting sun as he and his followers made their way toward the great gates of Yarzat.

As they approached the towering gates, the guards stationed there straightened, their eyes flicking toward the old priest and his procession.

With a measure of respect, they bowed their heads slightly, acknowledging him as he neared.

Elios, ever the shepherd of his flock, offered them a warm smile, lines of age and wisdom creasing his face. With a slow, deliberate motion, he raised one hand in blessing while balancing the long pole between his shoulder and the curve of his other arm.

”May the light of the Star watch over you’’ he intoned, his voice steady, carrying the cadence of countless prayers spoken before. ”May your swords never falter, your spirits remain steadfast, and may the gods guide your path as they guide mine.”

The guards did not speak. Regardless, they did not hinder the priest’s way.

With a final nod, Elios turned forward once more. The group moved as one, robes shifting in the evening breeze as they passed beneath the grand archway, stepping beyond the threshold of Yarzat and into the lands beyond.

The moment Brother Elios stepped past the great gates of Yarzat, his gaze swept across the open road ahead. His pupils followed behind him in silence, but the old priest barely noticed them now. His eyes were searching—searching for something, or rather, someone.

And then he saw him.

Under the shade of a weathered tree stood a lone figure, shoulders slightly hunched, his face half-hidden by the angle of his head. The sight of him made Elios’ heart swell with something almost like relief.

A bright, boyish grin spread across his face. Without hesitation, he moved forward—though his advance was far from graceful. The long wooden pole bearing the Star of the Gods wobbled awkwardly between his shoulder and his hand, forcing him to adjust his grip as he half-walked, half-stumbled toward the waiting man.

When he reached him at last, he didn’t hesitate. ”You never did tell me your name, my son,” Elios said, his voice warm, carrying the gentleness of a man who had lived long enough to understand pain.

Robert lifted his head slowly, his eyes meeting the old priest’s. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Finally, he let out a slow sigh. ”I was waiting for you to leave the city since the morning after we met,” he admitted. His voice was steady, but there was something in it—something Elios recognized all too well.

The priest tilted his head, studying him. ”Ah,” he said softly, ”so you waited.”

Robert exhaled through his nose, a humorless chuckle escaping him. ”I figured I owed you that much.”

Elios understood the words he didn’t say. He understood them because he had heard them before—from men who had stood on the edge, from those whose souls had nearly slipped into the abyss.

He placed a hand on Robert’s arm, firm but gentle. ”The gods still have use for you yet, my son.” His smile was knowing, quiet. ”They would not have sent you to me otherwise.”

Robert swallowed, his jaw tightening. Then, after a pause, he let out another breath, softer this time. ”I hope you’re right.”

Elios chuckled, squeezing his arm once before letting go. ”I have faith that I am.”

Robert shifted on his feet, glancing at the small group of young priests trailing behind Elios. His expression was unreadable, but the way his fingers flexed at his sides betrayed his unease. He exhaled slowly before speaking.

”Can we talk in private?” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

Elios studied him for a moment before nodding. Without a word, he turned and gestured for one of his pupils to step forward. The young man approached quickly, eyes full of reverence.

”Hold this for me,” Elios said, passing the long wooden pole with the Star into the boy’s waiting hands. The weight of it made the pupil straighten his back instinctively.

Then, Elios turned back to the rest of the group. ”Wait here for me, my children. I will return shortly.”

The pupils bowed their heads in obedience as Elios followed Robert away from the road, further into a small grove where the trees cast long shadows across the ground. The city’s walls were still in view, but here, at least, they were out of earshot.

Robert stopped, running a hand through his hair. His jaw tensed as if trying to decide where to begin. Then, finally, he spoke.

”I’ve been dreaming,” he admitted, his voice low. ”that night”

Elios raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing the man to continue.

”I’m running,” he said, his voice carrying a raw edge. ”The forest is endless, and something is chasing me—something I can’t see. It howls, but not like a wolf. It sounds... wrong.” His hands clenched into fists. ”The ground disappears beneath me, and I fall. But instead of hitting the earth, I land in hands.”

”Hands?” Elios asked, his expression unreadable.

Robert nodded. ”Hundreds—no, thousands of them. They burst from the ground, grabbing me, clawing at me, pulling me down. I fight, but it’s useless. They cover my mouth, my throat—I can’t breathe, can’t move.” He swallowed hard. ”And then, through them, I see... fire.”

His breathing grew uneven, his fingers trembling slightly as he spoke. ”Not just fire. A sea of it. People are burning, screaming, their skin melting away, and I—” His voice caught, his throat working before he forced himself to continue. ”I see him.”

Elios remained silent, waiting.

”Arkawatt,” Robert whispered, his tone barely above a breath. ”The prince. My prince.” His eyes were distant now, staring past Elios as if seeing the vision unfold again before him. ”He’s burning, his crown half-melted into his skull, his robes in tatters. But the hands—they lift him higher. They won’t let him die.”

His voice cracked, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. ”He looks at me—what’s left of his eyes, they turn to me. And he screams.”

Elios finally spoke, his voice calm, steady. ”What does he say?”

Robert let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. ”Nothing. He just screams.” He took another breath, trying to center himself. ”I try to help him. I reach for him, but the hands come for me too. I grab for my star—for something, anything—but it slips away like mist.”

His eyes flickered back to Elios, and for the first time, the priest saw it clearly—the sheer terror buried beneath the exhaustion.

”And then the hands pull me into the fire,” Robert finished, his voice hoarse. ”That’s when I wake up.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment, the wind rustling gently through the trees.

Elios let out a soft hum, his fingers stroking his chin as he regarded Robert with a knowing gaze. Then, with a small smile, he said, ”You have been blessed.”

Robert frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. ”Blessed?” he repeated, almost scoffing. ”I just told you that I saw my prince burning, that I was dragged into the depths of some unholy fire, and you call it a blessing?”

Elios nodded. ”Yes. For the gods have seen fit to send you a warning.”

Robert swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful or terrified.

”This Arkawatt,” Elios continued, ”was he a pious man?”

Robert hesitated. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked away as if ashamed to speak ill of the dead. ”...No,” he admitted quietly. ”Not in the way you mean. He did not care much for the gods, nor did he ask for their guidance. He lived as he pleased, took what he wanted, and gave little thought to the heavens.”

Elios sighed, his expression heavy with something that almost resembled pity. ”Then I fear you have been given a glimpse of what awaits him—and others like him. One of the many hells the gods have fashioned for those who stray too far.”

Robert’s breath hitched, his stomach twisting into knots. ”And what about me?” he asked, his voice quieter now. ”I saw the fire, I felt it. You said it was a warning—but a warning of what?”

Elios placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ”Right now, you are walking toward the same fate,” he said simply. ”But there is hope.”

Robert looked up at him sharply.

”The fact that you reached for the star,” Elios continued, his voice filled with conviction, ”means that the gods have not abandoned you. Even in the depths of that vision, you sought the light. That means you can still turn back. Instead of being pulled downward, you can rise.”

Robert exhaled, his mind racing. ”...Then what do I do?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. ”How do I change my path?”

Elios’s smile did not waver, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes. ”You do not ’do’ anything—not yet.”

Robert furrowed his brow. ”What?”

”Fake good actions born from fear are worthless,” Elios said firmly. ”A man who only acts because he is afraid of punishment is not a good man—he is merely a coward who wishes to avoid pain. The gods do not want the service of cowards.”

Robert clenched his jaw at the words, but he could not refute them.

”So then what?” he muttered.

Elios’s smile widened. ”Come with me.”

Robert blinked, caught off guard. ”Come with you?”

”Travel with us for a time,” Elios offered. ”Open your eyes to a new way of seeing the world. Perhaps, in time, you will find the meaning that the gods wished to impart to you.”

Robert stared at him, his mind warring with itself.

Follow a priest? A lord following a eunuch?It sounded ridiculous. And yet—

He remembered the fire. The screaming. The hands pulling him downward.

Perhaps it was worth a thought, considering he was betting on his eternity.