Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 609: What is a man worth(3)

Elyos studied Alpheo for a long moment, the light in his tired eyes flickering like a dying candle as he gazed at the man on the opposite side of the bars.

"Why are you doing this? Why sit here in this wretched place, sharing words with a man about to die? Why entertain such foolishness?"He narrowed his gaze, trying to understand a reason that was not simple amusement, he did not.

"Do you take pleasure in seeing a man’s final acts of dignity wither into dust? Do you find delight in watching what a soul clings to as the pyre awaits?’’

Alpheo inhaled slowly through his nose, the kind of long, deliberate breath a man took when confronted with a question he had half-expected but still found uncomfortable to answer.

For a while he said nothing, the sounds of dripping water and distant steps the only noise between them.

At last, he spoke, his tone quiet, almost stripped of its usual sardonic edge.

"I won’t lie to you, Elyos," he said, voice rough. "There are men whose misery I would savor like fine wine. Whose pain feels like blood in my vein. True enemies. Wretched cowards who hid behind others or people who slighted me or those I cared about."He shook his head, a bitter half-smile playing at his lips."But you are not one of them.No matter how much I look at you, I do not find that hate in me.

Of course, I disliked you at the start of all of this, as you caused me quite the trouble but honestly you were just the spark that started the fire, the wood and the hay were already there.

So in a certain sense, it’s good that I got over it and extinguished that fire, while also making sure that none would make that mistake again."

He let out a slow sigh, one that seemed to pull something heavy from within his chest. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the damp ceiling as if the answers might be etched in the stones.

"Up there," he said, with a vague jerk of his chin toward the unseen world beyond the prison, "they think of me highly. My soldiers weave tales, whispering rumors that I must have some divine blood in me. A hero anointed by the stars, a son of the Warrior."

He gave a short, humorless laugh, the sound bouncing off the stone walls like a mocking echo.

"Divine blood," he repeated with a shake of his head. "Funny, isn’t it? To think that a man who once slept in his own filth, who clawed through gutters just to survive another day, could now be whispered of as some heavenly creature." frёeωebɳovel.com

His hands fell loosely to his sides as he continued, the words seeming to pour from him now, like a dam that had finally cracked.

"My wife," he said softly, "her lords, her kin, they look at me and see a brilliant general, a great man whose ability is only matched by his arrogance. My closest friends see someone who might bend the world itself to his will if only they follow close enough.Not that I blame them, given the big head I showed everyone when we first met."

He laughed at the memory of his previous self, of when he desperately desired the power he now held.

Then for a moment, a flicker of real sadness crossed his face, like a cloud dimming a bright sun.

"And yet..."He paused, searching for words heavy enough to carry the burden he felt."Despite how much I love them — and I do — I cannot show them this part of me. I cannot open this..thing before them."

Alpheo’s voice lowered to a whisper, hoarse and laden with a sorrow few ever witnessed.

"I cannot speak of these matters to them. They would not understand. How could they? They see a symbol, not a man. I cannot risk their trust, their admiration, by dragging them into the mire of my doubts, my questions, my... sins of the mind. Every night before battle, I rarely catch sleep, my doubts preventing me from falling into sleep’s embrace.

I am scared every time I face a battle where I do not have overwhelming odds. Every time I think of a plan whose success relies on luck as on skill, I fake reassurance and confidence to project that image of a man who already knows how the day will end.

When in fact I do not."

He gave a hollow laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as though trying to soothe an ache that had lived there too long.

"Then there is the things I know and that I want to converse about.

I cannot even ask it of my wife," he murmured. "Nor her vassals, who would lose their heads before even grasping the simplest of these thoughts."

For a while, the only sound between them was the slow breathing of two men, one sentenced to die, the other sentenced to live a life of careful lies.

Alpheo let out a slow, breathy laugh, shaking his head as if in disbelief of the simple truth he was about to confess.

"This conversation," he said, voice low but warm, "has been wonderful."He gave a tired smile, a glint of rare honesty flashing in his eyes."It has been a long, long time since I have had such... fun. Since I’ve spoken with someone whose mind could stretch beyond the walls of what is, to touch what could be."

He shifted slightly against the rough stone wall, almost as if the weight of his words pressed him down."I have no one up there," he continued, jerking his thumb vaguely upwards, "whose mind can roam so far, no one who would dare dance along the precipice of ideas with me."

Alpheo chuckled, a short, dry sound edged with bitterness.

"If I had spoken any of this," he said, waving a lazy hand as if to sweep up all the dangerous thoughts they’d shared, "to the lords and ladies of the court, they would have called me mad. Mad for daring to believe that any other than a man appointed by divine providence could hold the reins of the world, not understanding that power does not come from forces you cannot see, but instead lies where people think it lies.

Think about gold and silver, those are things that you cannot eat, that you cannot shape in something you can use like iron, so why do we place so much value on them?"

He laughed again, the sound rougher this time, richer with irony. ’’It’s because we believe they are so valuable. And so the power a man has to order another, only exists because the one being ordered around believes the other man holds such power...’’ As he said so he looked toward Elyos, watching if he was following.

A small smile appeared when he saw that he did.

"I could not speak of such a thing with any other or else I would be called mad. And yet," he said, tilting his head and meeting Elyos’ gaze, "here they are, bowing before a man with no drop of so-called sacred blood. A peasant who clawed his way up through filth and hunger, wearing a crown as if it were nothing more than a ragged cloak."

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, and his voice softened to something almost tender.

"They call me the Mud Prince, the Peasant Prince," he said, and for once, there was no anger, only a strange kind of pride."They hurl those names like curses, as if rising from the gutter were a shameful thing — when all I see in them is a badge of honor. Proof that I rose from the only place a man is supposed to fall."

He fell silent for a moment, letting the truth of it linger in the cold air between them. Then, almost in a whisper, he added:

"I stand at the summit of the world, surrounded by comrades, bathed in glory... and yet I am alone. Trapped within my own mind, with no hand to reach for in the dark, no voice to echo my doubts back to me."

Elyos sat there, at a rare loss for words, feeling the enormity of the loneliness wrapped around the man before him like a second skin. Finally, hesitant but earnest, he asked:

"Is that why you’re telling me this? Because you know... I will die?"

Alpheo’s lips curled into a small, wry smile.

"Of course," he said simply. "You will burn, and with you, so will everything we have spoken tonight. I trust that none of these truths will ever slip from these stones."He leaned forward slightly, his voice softer, almost conspiratorial:"It is a rare thing, Elyos, to unburden oneself without fear of consequence. In you, in this dying hour, I have found not an enemy, but a confessor."

Elyos gave a sharp snort through his nose, his expression twisting into something grim and sour."Happy to see you find solace in that, for in a few hours I will burn," he said in a hard voice, the sarcasm dripping from each word like venom from a blade. He leaned back against the cold wall, arms crossing tightly over his chest, his eyes half-lidded but burning with quiet scorn, signalling the conversation was over.

Alpheo, for his part, merely sighed — a slow, tired breath that seemed to carry the weight of a hundred unspoken thoughts.

Without a word, he pushed himself up from the stone floor, dusting off his cloak as he stood, the flickering torchlight casting his shadow tall and thin across the rough walls of the cell.

"I haven’t forgotten my promise," Alpheo said, his voice steady, almost solemn now.

From behind his back, he drew something out — a glint of polished metal catching the light.It was a collar, finely made, and at its center gleamed a star identical to the one that hung around Elyos’ neck: simple, elegant, and deceptive.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Alpheo tossed the object through the narrow bars.It landed on the stone floor with a small clatter, the sound oddly delicate in the heavy silence that followed.

"I promised," Alpheo continued, voice low, "that you wouldn’t die burning."

He let the words hang there for a heartbeat, almost savoring the confusion on Elyos’ face before adding:

"All that they will burn is your corpse’’

He pointed to the star-shaped ornament on the collar, a sly smile curling his lips.

"Hidden within is a blade. Small, but sharp enough to do what needs to be done. Slit your wrists. Go to your gods on your own terms."

Elyos stared at him, then slowly, cautiously bent down and picked up the collar.The metal was cool against his fingers, deceptively light.

He felt along the edge of the star, finding a small catch cleverly disguised in the ornament’s design.Applying firm pressure beneath it, he heard a soft click — and with a subtle, precise motion, the star split cleanly into two halves both of which were sharp.

Elyos held it up, turning it slowly between his fingers, marveling grimly at the simplicity of it.A priest’s star hiding a sinner’s salvation.

He looked back up at Alpheo, who was already stepping back into the shadows beyond the bars, his face unreadable.

"I’ll send someone to bring you something to eat," he said, his voice returning to the clipped, almost casual tone of command. "Afterwards, they’ll come for your other collar — so they’ll believe you had that one hidden since the start. Consider it a fellow madman’s courtesy"

"I didn’t expect you to follow through,"Elyos responses, his voice lower than usual, more out of genuine surprise than bitterness.

Alpheo gave a small smile — a real one this time, weary and a little sad."In this world," he said, "there are few things a man can truly be worth. But if there’s one thing I still believe in, it’s that a man’s worth can be measured by whether he keeps his promises."

He stepped back, hands folding behind his back, preparing to leave."Consider it a thanks," he added over his shoulder, "for sitting through my grumblings.’’

He turned, his boots echoing softly against the cold stone floor, ready to take his leave—when Elyos’ voice halted him.

"Your Grace," the former priest called out.

Alpheo stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.

Elyos met his gaze. Though his face was pale and lined with weariness, his voice held an unexpected steadiness.

"I wish you good fortune," he said.

There was a pause.

Then Elyos went on, his tone gentler now, almost reflective. "You live for ambition, that much is clear. But even so... those beneath you thrive. For all your ruthless aims, you’ve built something others can stand beneath."

He took a breath, as if to settle the weight of his own words.

"So, if the blessing of a broken priest still carries any meaning—take it. I hope, in some way, it finds you when you need it most."

Another pause. Then, the last simple sentence he would ever utter as living man came :"I hope you live well."

For a long second, neither of them said anything else. The torchlight flickered between them, casting the silence in deep shadows.

Then, with a faint exhale — half a sigh, half a breath of something heavier — Alpheo nodded once.Without a word more, he turned away, the sound of his footsteps beginning to climb the worn stone stairs, each step taking him further from the gloom of the dungeon.

As he ascended, he felt as though he were leaving something behind — something heavy and unseen.He left it there in the dark: all his doubts, all his half-confessed sins, his sleepless regrets.Better they stay down there, to make company to a man soon to meet the gods.

Whetever they existed or not.

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