Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 591: Matter of coins

Chapter 591: Matter of coins

With the arrival of Jarza’s bride, the circle was nearly complete. Now, the only piece missing was Asag’s promised wife, who even now made her slow journey toward the capital, accompanied by her own small escort of knights and retainers.

She was the youngest daughter of the turncloak lord of Arduronaven — a man who after a failed war that cost him his life and his legacy, found his family at the mercy of the new prince.

A protectorate that Alpheo made use of to find wives for two of his retainers, whose common blood made it hard to find a match.

He had decided that the eldest daughter would be wedded to Egil and the youngest betrothed to Asag. A betrothal that, at long last, would soon ripen into marriage.

The only thing left to be decided had been the date, and that too had fallen into place. Prince Alpheo, with a flair for spectacle and grandeur, had decreed that Jarza’s wedding would take place within a month, followed by Asag’s a week later. Two full weeks of celebration — two full weeks of song, feasting, tournaments, and revelry — were soon to ignite the capital into a bonfire of joy.

Of course, such grand festivities did not conjure themselves from thin air. They demanded something from Alpheo — namely, silver and gold, and plenty of both. Fortunately, after three months of hard-fought war, these were two things that the prince now possessed in abundance.

At that very moment, Alpheo sat tucked away within his private chambers, a heavy oak desk before him cluttered with scrolls, ledgers, and parchment notes — the long-neglected administrative duties that had piled up during the campaigning season. His quill scratched across the page, penning orders, balancing tribute, confirming appointments. It was tedious, soul-crushing work, and Alpheo had never cared for it. Yet today, even the dull ache of bureaucracy was sweetened by a particular joy.

He paused for a moment, reaching for a freshly delivered parchment marked with the seal of the royal treasury’s oversight. Breaking the wax, he skimmed through the contents — and as he read, his heart gave a sudden, delighted thump against his ribs.

The numbers glittered before his eyes: stockpiles of enemy gold mountains of silver, goblets, rings, and uncut gemstones taken as loot, and the tally of tribute promised by the defeated lords who were beginning to grovel at his court. The coffers of Yarzat had swollen richer than ever before in living memory.

Lord Shahab stood nearby, draped in his formal robes, a bundle of treaties and letters tucked beneath his arm as he looked at the working prince . He had been summoned not for treasury matters, but to report on the truce negotiations with the Oizenians.

As Alpheo read over the treasury report, a grin slowly crept onto his face. He couldn’t help himself: he chuckled lowly, a sound like distant thunder.

“There must be something very sweet written in there” Shahab said dryly, eyeing the parchment

Alpheo, without looking up, replied with an amused tone, “Of course, Grandfather.”

Lord Shahab’s expression tightened immediately. “I have told you before,” he said, his voice sharp like a drawn dagger, “never call me that.Only my dear grandaughter can.”

Alpheo waved him off lazily, though a crooked smile remained on his lips.”Of course, of course. Lord Shahab, then.” He leaned forward, tapping the report against the oakwood table with satisfaction.

“And you were right — it is very sweet indeed.” He cleared his throat and began to read aloud, savoring each figure as if it were poetry.”The ransom of the captured nobles,” he said, “is projected to bring in 45,000 silverii — including 900 aureii among them.”

Shahab’s brow rose slightly, though he said nothing.

Alpheo continued, clearly enjoying himself, “The loot seized after the battle, after deducting the cost of arms, supply, and march, totals 3,800 silverii. And, lastly, the tribute pried from the knuckles of those accursed priests has added another 23,000 silverii to our coffers.”

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, voice lowering into something almost conspiratorial.”When we add the modest sum of 8,000 silverii that we already possessed… the treasury now holds a grand total of 79,000 silverii.To that we will also have to add the fines that the defeated rebels will have to pay”

Shahab’s mouth parted slightly, his usually stern face showing rare cracks of surprise.”Such numbers…” he muttered, almost to himself. “Before their civil wars, only the Romelians would boast of such hoards of silverii…”

Alpheo laughed”I suppose so….the coffers are overflowing, and you can rest assured that I intend to put every last coin of it to good use.”

“And may I ask, Your Grace, how you intend to spend such a delightful mountain of silverii?” he asked, voice smooth as polished marble.

Alpheo grinned as he plucked a grape from the fruit bowl on the table and tossed it into his mouth, chewing leisurely before speaking.”First things first,” he said, wiping his hands with a cloth, “we will hoard grain. Vast, obscene quantities of it. Enough to feed an army for months.”

He leaned forward, the excitement beginning to color his voice.”We will raise a proper campaign against the Herculeians, my lord . One that will smash their pride into the mud and salt their fields for good measure.”

Shahab nodded approvingly, but Alpheo wasn’t finished.”Then, once the granaries are swelling, we’ll turn to the White Army. Replenish it… no, not just replenish it ,expand it.” He made a broad gesture with his hand, as if sweeping imaginary soldiers across the map.”Another corps raised under our banner. And thanks to the vast amount of equipment we stripped from our enemies — helmets, breastplates, swords, spears the cost will be minimal.”

He sat back, tapping the side of his goblet thoughtfully.”In truth, the bulk of these new riches will remain snugly nestled in the royal coffers, untouched by foolish extravagance. They will be the foundation for a great project I plan to undertake here, in the capital.”

Shahab arched an eyebrow.”A project?” ƒreewebɳovel.com

Alpheo smiled thinly.”Indeed. But that is a story for another day. A tale for when the fields are ours and our enemies are broken beneath our boots.”

He stood from his chair then, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves, his voice growing brisk and cutting.”For now, we have other potatoes to peel. War may be a glorious thing — but politics is the meal we must chew before the feast.I assume you haven’t disturbed me in my counting of coins without good reason, ” he said lazily. “You must have come to deliver the copy of the truce we’ll soon be binding with the Oizenians.”

Shahab bowed his head slightly, the faintest glint of humor in his eye.”Indeed, ” he said, producing a folded and wax-sealed parchment from within his sleeve.

Alpheo reached out and plucked the document from Shahab’s hand.He unfolded the thick, heavy parchment and began to read, his eyes sweeping across the flowing letters.

—————

Accord Between the Principality of Yarzat and the Principality of Oizen

Let it be known, under the benevolence of the gods and the wisdom of rulers, that this accord is signed by the hand of Her Highness, Jasmine Veloni-Isha of Yarzat, and His Highness, Sorza of Oize.

Henceforth, both parties do solemnly agree to the following articles:

Cessation of Hostilities:All acts of aggression, provocation, or martial hostility between the Principality of Yarzat and the Principality of Oizen shall cease immediately upon the signing of this treaty and shall not be renewed for a period no less than three years from the date of this accord.

Support to Enemies Forbidden:Neither party shall, by gold, steel, word, nor deed, offer support to any external or internal enemy of the other during the aforementioned period.

On the Matter of Captives:Both parties affirm that the ransoming of captured lords and persons of notable station shall proceed without interference. The payment, terms, and negotiations of such ransoms shall be conducted individually between captor and captive’s kin or representative, with no hindrance or manipulation from either sovereign house.

Diplomatic Engagements:Both Yarzat and Oizen vow to sever and abstain from any separate diplomatic dealings, promises, or clandestine agreements made with lords belonging to either dominion. Only the legitimate and recognized heads of each state shall be engaged henceforth.

May the sun of fortune and the winds of peace favor this accord.

———-

Alpheo set the parchment down onto the table with a soft thud, leaning back into his chair with a satisfied breath. His fingers drummed lazily along the armrest before his sharp eyes flicked toward Shahab.

“And how,” he drawled, “did the Oizenian envoys take our… gentle refusal to sell off your granddaughter to Prince Sorza?”

Shahab allowed himself a thin smile, one touched with a hint of dry amusement.”They were insulted, as was expected,” he replied. “But they are wise enough to know when pride must bow to necessity. They swallowed the slight, for they knew they must — at least long enough to get this truce signed.”

Alpheo gave a snort through his nose, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.”I see no wrong in it,” he said with a shrug.

He waved a hand lazily over the document.”Go ahead. I failed to find anything wrong with it .”

Shahab nodded, but before turning to leave, he asked,”And once these three years have passed, do you intend to renew this truce?”

Alpheo’s smile deepened, his blue eyes gleaming with the cold brilliance of a winter river. Slowly, he rose from his chair, stepping toward the window where the city sprawled out beneath the high towers of the keep.

He spoke without turning, his voice low but rich with certainty:”You know the answer already. The roots of peace may anchor themselves deeply… but only the sword decides how long they live.”

And with that, Alpheo folded his hands behind his back, and the last light of the afternoon set the city aglow — a silent herald of the storms yet to come to lands that this time were not his.

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