Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

”Seems like we’re close,” Thalien muttered at last. The first words between them in two hours. His voice carried lightly on the wind, yet to Arnold it fell heavy, breaking the long, brittle silence like a stone striking ice.

”It seems so,” Arnold answered, eyes fixed on the churned earth ahead. He didn’t look toward the horizon, though he could feel it there, the Yarz- their camp, rising like a sprawl of steel and canvas in the afternoon haze.

It wasn’t failure that kept his gaze low. Thalien had agreed to help him. The knot in his chest was not fear of refusal, but the heat of shame.

Shame that he couldn’t raise his eyes to meet his younger brother’s, knowing the price of what he’d asked.

Was that the reason you decided to share the road with me?

The question still echoed, sharp as a hook caught in his ribs. Not the words alone, but the way Thalien had spoken them, the seriousness behind his eye and the pain in them.

Arnold had decided long ago that he was a despicable man.

”Thalien...” Arnold murmured, lifting his head at last.

Thalien turned his gaze to him, the same effortless levity returned to his eyes, as though their earlier conversation had never happened.

”Thank you for your help,” Arnold said quietly.

”This is what—the sixth time?” Thalien tilted his head, smiling without warmth. ”I always thought thanks were meant to be given once. Say them too often and they lose their meaning. That’s the reason, isn’t it?”

Arnold didn’t need to be a sharp man to see the anger beneath the mockery.

”Well,” he tried, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, ”I haven’t apologized once, have I?”

Thalien’s chuckle was brief, thin. Forced. The sound of a man humoring someone, not sharing the joke.

A despicable man... and an unfunny one too.

”Apologizing for what?” Thalien asked.

”For abusing your kindness,” Arnold said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. ”It’s clear you wanted only to pass the time with me, but I used it for my own ends. I apologize for that. Profoundly.”

Thalien waved a hand as if brushing away dust. ”You needn’t trouble your heart. I take no offense. You are troubled, it shows plainly, and I am not against aiding you for it.”

His gaze softened, though it held its usual sly glint. ”We are brothers, are we not?It’s us against the world...”

The shame flared hotter, like a coal pressed against Arnold’s chest.

”Yes,” Arnold managed, the word scraping out of him. In that moment, he felt lower than vermin or a rat that swam in shit.

That was what he was...shit.

As Thalien looked at his elder, he probably remembered all the happy memories he had with their shared childhood, while when Arnold looked at the youngest, he only remembered all the time he, alone, clashed against his father.

He had deserted him so many times...

They rode in silence for a time, the only sound the steady thud of hooves and the distant murmur of the marching column behind them. Dust drifted in the summer air, curling up from the road in slow spirals. Arnold’s gaze stayed forward, jaw tight at the closer camp, before he finally spoke again, so low it was almost lost to the wind.

”Though that was not the reason alone.”

”What?” Thalien turned his head, brow raised. He hadn’t caught the words.

”That was not the only reason I marched with you on the call to arms,” Arnold repeated, voice clearer now.As he led his horse closer to his brother’s.

Thalien arched a brow higher. ”Ah, you didn’t? And what else, then? I failed to notice anything else from what you showed.”

Arnold drew a slow breath, as if the words themselves embarrassed him, which they did. ”I did not want to answer His Grace’s call alone. He... scares me.”

That earned a booming laugh from Thalien, loud and sudden. Unlike his earlier chuckles, this one rang genuine, unforced.

Arnold took a moment’s relief for that.

”Come now,” Thalien said, still grinning, ”what’s there to fear of the prince? Apart of course if you were his enemy... he’s generous to those loyal to him. Never heard of him abusing his station or demanding more than his due from his vassals. Only the gods know what our dear father would have done, had he commanded the army our prince leads...”

Arnold’s voice cut through his mirth. ”His eyes are scary.”

Thalien’s laugh faltered, dying as he glanced sideways and saw the sincerity in his brother’s face.

”The way he acts... it feels like a mask,” Arnold went on. ”He smiles, but his eyes—” he shook his head, searching for the right words, ”—his eyes seem empty. Not cold. Not cruel. Just... absent. When he looks at me, I feel like a sheep under a butcher’s gaze, while he weighs how much meat he can strip from my bones. He may smile but he does not mean it”

Thalien shifted in his saddle uncomfortably at that, his gaze flicking toward the horizon.

Then after a moment’s wait , he began.”Well... to me, he’s been nothing but generous,” he said after a moment. ”Much more than my own family as been.

As I told you, there aren’t many in his position who’d treat men like us with as much respect. Serve him faithfully, and you won’t have cause to fear him. Cross him, and—” he gave a small shrug ”—then you’ve got reason to worry. That was , at the very least , the only good lesson Father imparted to us, even if unwillingly.

And much to his expense”

Arnold took the words to heart, though the unease still sat in his chest.

”Still,” Thalien went on, glancing sidelong at him, ”why would you need me to greet His Grace? Surely you’re not so frightened of a cordial audience?”

Arnold’s gaze flickered briefly to his brother. ”He seems to like you.’’ he surely must have noticed that, Arnold thought as he continued .’’ A great deal. He treats the other lords with respect, yes, but there’s always distance, always the bearing of a man who could crush them if he willed it. With you, though... it’s different. His manner is easier. Almost—” Arnold hesitated, as though the word itself were a risk ”—warm. I don’t know what service you rendered him during the war against Father, but he hasn’t forgotten it. Clearly he holds you in high regard.”

Thalien didn’t answer his brother’s last remark. He only puffed his chest, the way a man does when praised in silence.

”Well then, you asked the right person.” He then declared with a smile as the camp loomed larger with each hoofbeat.

Soon, the two brothers and the four hundred men trailing behind could see the sprawl of the royal encampment in full.

It was a thing born from the loins of two princedoms, a union of banners and steel. From outside the high wooden palisade blocked their view , they couldn’t see the heart of it, the ordered rows of tents hidden beyond, but the sheer breadth of its walls spoke of numbers far greater than anything their father had ever commanded. The prince, they knew, kept thirteen hundred men under his personal banner alone. With the forces of his sworn lords swelling those ranks, it was easy to imagine an army the size of which Herculia had never dreamed.

But their eyes didn’t linger on the camp’s walls for long. A smaller contingent had broken from the main body, riding toward them. Sunlight caught on their banners, a sword with two white wings flaring from its hilt. The heraldry of House Filastin.

It was a sigil known to every noble in the realm, for Filastin blood ran closer to the crown than any other house.

And it was good to remember that, as they were the only house that shared it.

Thalien and Arnold reined in, signaling their men to halt. Hooves settled in the dust, and the column waited. The riders closed the distance, and soon it was clear who led them, the patriarch himself, Lord Shahab, grandfather to the princess.

When the two parties met, Thalien and Arnold dipped their heads in greeting. Equal in rank perhaps, but there was no mistaking who sat higher in the pecking order.

”My lords,” Shahab greeted, voice warm but measured. ”In the name of Her Grace, we are glad to see our new friends have heeded the call.”

”We wouldn’t have dared otherwise,” Arnold replied. From the corner of his eye, he saw Thalien’s smile. He didn’t know the nature of his brother’s connections with the prince’s inner circle, so he held his tongue and watched.

”It is good to see you in health, Lord Shahab,” Thalien said smoothly. ”I trust all is well with Her Grace? I hear she has recently given birth to a daughter.”

”All is well,” Shahab answered with a small nod. ”Your concern is appreciated. I imagine you will want to greet His Grace soon. He will be pleased to see you both. In the meantime, allow me to show you your quarters in the camp. You may be pleased to know that, as the first among the newly sworn lords to arrive, you will have the places closest to His Grace.”

Thalien’s grin widened. ”It is good to see our punctuality rewarded. The gods know how rare it is for me to be on time for anything that doesn’t involve feasting or drinking.”

”I recall seeing cups in your hands at each dawn,” Shahab said, an eyebrow raised. ”Does that still hold true?”

”Indeed,” Thalien said without shame. ”And speaking of it, I would be pleased if you could find the time to join me. As I always say, there is no finer sight than the sun laying itself to rest... unless, of course, that sight is joined by wine.”

A faint smile touched Shahab’s lips. ”Perhaps I will take you up on that, Lord Thalien. For now, my men will lead you to your quarters. Once you’ve settled, I will send word for His Grace to receive you.”

With a nod to his escort, Shahab turned his horse, and the riders of Filastin wheeled in unison to guide the brothers toward the gates of the great camp.