Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Alpheo forced himself awake, steeling his mind. This was the most delicate stretch of the conference , the moment that would decide with what he would walk away. He set his worries aside and turned his attention sharply to the Prince of Oizen, who rose with measured dignity to deliver his counter-terms.

“My lords and princes of this august gathering,” Sorza began, his voice firm, carrying the cadence of one rehearsed to sound righteous even in the face of accusation. “The Crown of Oizen maintains that for peace to be genuine and lasting, justice must first be restored to its proper balance. Thus, on behalf of my realm, I place forward the following terms.”

He raised a hand, ticking each point with deliberate emphasis:

“First, we demand the full and immediate withdrawal of the Yarzat host from lands that are rightfully Oizenian, with the borders restored and secured as they stood one year prior. The sovereignty of both crowns must be recognized and safeguarded against further trespass.”

“Second, we require that a binding clause of this peace prohibit the Crown of Yarzat from offering any further succor, haven or support to brigands, bandits, and dissident elements that have, by hidden hand, been allowed to harass and weaken Oizenian stability. Such practices are a stain upon the dignity of princely conduct and must cease if peace is to be more than a parchment illusion.”

At that, several brows furrowed, and whispers stirred. Even the envoy of Habadia shifted uncomfortably , his gaze, however, settled not on Alpheo, but squarely on Sorza himself.

What he hell is he talking about? His gaze seemed to say.

Sorza pressed on. “Third, we demand the return of the crown and regalia of Oizen, presently in Yarzat possession, once borne by my late father, Prince Shamelik. Which is still being detained by the opposite party for no peace may stand upon such an affront.”

His voice hardened, though he cloaked it in a thin veil of princely formality.

“Fourth, the realm of Yarzat must deliver an indemnity of sixteen thousand silverii, in recognition of the grievous damages and depredations inflicted upon Oizenian lands during this present campaign.

And lastly, we demand the release of all prisoners presently held in Yarzat custody , soldiers, officers, and noble hostages alike.”

With both sides having stated their terms, the conference had finally reached the point where true negotiations could begin. Yet, rather than quiet progress, the hall bristled with tension, for most of the gathered eyes turned to Sorza’s latest claim.

Alpheo rose swiftly, his voice displaying a carefully measured outrage:

“I would have our attention immediately directed to the vile, baseless, and ungenuine accusation that I , or the Crown of Yarzat, have in any way supported brigandage within Oizenian lands. That, I swear upon my name and upon the honor of Her Grace herself, is idiocy of the highest order.”

He slammed his palm upon the table for effect, his face twisted into an indignation he did not feel as the accusation were in fact true, though he played the role with the skill of an actor upon a stage. “It is not merely an affront to me , it is an insult hurled at the dignity of Her Grace, to even entertain such absurd calumny.”

And yet, even as he thundered, a flicker of unease gnawed at him. Had Lucius left a trace?

The Prince of Sharjaan leaned forward, steepling his fingers. His tone was calm, judicial.”Prince of Oizen, these are accusations of considerable gravity. I do trust you have the means to support what you have just proclaimed?”

Sorza’s head lifted, and for the first time in hours he allowed a smile to brush across his lips. The sagging weight of defeat was gone; now he looked as though he had found a weapon.”Indeed, Your Grace, I do. I have in my custody numerous captured outlaws who can attest to the aid they received from Yarzat’s hand.”

Alpheo blinked. That’s all? He glanced around the chamber. Confusion mirrored his own on the faces of the envoys , most notably on the envoy of Habadia, whose furrowed brow betrayed that even he had not been prepared for this revelation.

Did that fool truly arrange this farce on his own?

Sharjaan’s prince leaned forward again”May I ask, then, about these prisoners? Did they bear letters from Yarzat? Seals, tokens, marks of command? Anything binding them to the Crown? Or are these merely common brigands whose claims we cannot verify?”

Sorza hesitated, but forced confidence into his words.”Well, no, Your Grace. They are common bandits ,but they swear they received weapons from the prince himself.”

The murmurs grew.

Alpheo’s chest loosened. He knew Lucius would never have left such foolish traces; this was fabrication, pure and clumsy.

Sharjaan pressed on. “So. No evidence but the words of outlaws, who have been in your custody for how long?”

“Several weeks,” Sorza admitted.

“Weeks,” Shaza echoed, letting the word linger. “So you would have us believe that these men, who have lived under your mercy, say only what is true? And that their testimony, uncorroborated, is sufficient to stain another crown?”

Sorza flinched, but blustered on: “But they all claim the same,that regular carts of weapons were delivered to them—”

“And may I ask where these men were captured?”

Sorza paused. His lips tightened. “I… am not aware of the precise location.”

“Not even the general area?Where was their camp located?I am sure that you have captured it. There should have been other objects that may serve as proofs.”

“They…..they would not tell us. ”

”Even under torture?”

”Even under torture”

“But,” Shaza’s brows rose having already understood that it was bullshit and taking the chance to further paint Sorza in a bad light, “they did tell you the precise origin of their arms?How were they even privy to that, and why were they willing to inform you of something even more problematic than their camp?”

The silence was a noose. Sorza fumbled with his tongue, but no words came.

He hadn’t thought that deeply…

Alpheo seized the moment, his voice booming like thunder across the hall.

“THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!” He pounded his fist against the table, sending a goblet trembling.He would have kissed Sorza if he could, for giving him this chance.

“These are no more than empty accusations, frail, fabricated things riddled with holes whichever way one turns them! This is not proof. This is not justice. This is desperation.It is a shameful display from a prince that I would not even find in a tavern”

He leveled a finger at Sorza, his gaze aflame. “It is plain for all to see: the son takes after the father. As Prince Shamelik once hurled falsehoods to excuse his treachery, so now his heir hurls slander to cloak his weakness. Without a shred of evidence, he spews filth , not to uphold truth, but only to throw dirt at me!Am I supposed to make peace with such a man?”

Alpheo rose again, drawing himself up with dignity, his face arranged into the perfect image of wounded honor, though he was neither wounded nor a man of honor.

“I halted my armies in their stride,” he declared, his hand pressed upon his chest. “I laid down the sword even when no force alive could have stopped me, and I placed my faith , my faith! in this gathering, in the hope that a just peace might yet be forged. I could have taken more , much more, but instead I came here with open hands. And what has met me since my arrival?” His voice broke into thunder. “Lies. Lies upon lies, heaped upon my name!”

Sorza shot to his feet, panic gnawing at the edges of his tone. “There is no falsity in those claims!”

Alpheo turned on him, eyes blazing. His voice lashed out like a whip. “No falsity? You do not even know where these supposed bandits were captured! You would have us believe rumor, hearsay, and tortured words carry the weight of proof? Then let us see! Let us summon them here, one by one, and hear their every word under oath and cross-examination. Let us see if their tales align to the very detail, or if their tongues break apart like rotten wood!”

He leaned forward, voice sharp with scorn. “Tell us, Your Grace, how would a bandit ,some barefoot vagabond skulking in the forests ,know that the Crown of Yarzat was behind them? Did they see my knights, clad in my wife’s sigil, parading through the hills tossing weapons from wagons and shouting: ‘These are gifts from Yarzat! Use them to kill merchants, burn homes, and raid villages!’” He spread his arms wide, sneering. “Or perhaps I myself went out into the wild, handing out steel like bread to beggars?”

The silence that followed cut like glass. Sorza’s mouth worked, but nothing emerged. Sweat glistened at his brow, and his lips formed half-words, stutters that died before they became sentences.

“Come now!” Alpheo pressed, striking his palm against the table so that cups rattled. “Speak! You cast mud at my name, and now you would sit mute when asked to defend your lies? How dare you? How dare you insult this gathering ,after summoning so many lords and princes from across the lands, only to vomit falsehoods before their faces? Is this what Oizen has been reduced to? The shouting of drunkards in a tavern, where every claim is bought with a jug of ale?”

Sorza’s face burned crimson as his lips trembled, his tongue unable to form defense. He was sinking, drowning in the weight of his own folly.

And then , salvation attempted. A chair scraped back.

The Habadian envoy rose to his feet. His voice was smooth, but edged with steel as he addressed Shaza coming to Sorza’s aid.”Your Grace, might I request a brief recess? A few minutes, no more , so that…. tempers may cool and order be restored before these proceedings continue.”

The words were measured, diplomatic. But his eyes were daggers, fixed upon the young prince, burning with barely concealed fury.

Shaza, still seated in his place of honor, inclined his head gravely. “I believe that is needed too….Very well , we shall allow a pause.” He turned then to Alpheo, his expression even,though he shared his same levity “Prince of Yarzat, I must entreat you , please, temper your words. Your anger is understood, and even justified, but let us not turn passion into flame that may consume what we have come here to build.”

Alpheo felt laughter bubbling inside him, the triumph sweet upon his tongue. He could never thank whatever divinity was up there enough, for having given him such a dull opponent.

But he forced it down, masked it beneath the mask of a sober prince wronged but composed.

“Of course, Your Grace. I recognise too the need not to lower myself to certain level displayed by others”

His lips twitched, barely, at the corners. Not a smile , at least not one that anyone could call him on.

But within his chest, he exulted.