Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 935: Rats’ war(1)

Chapter 935: Rats’ war(1)

“Hold the fucking thing steady!” the man with the hammer bellowed as he brought the heavy iron head down on the top of the steel pipe, driving it, if the gods were merciful, another finger deeper into the earth.

“I’ll keep your cock steady as I saw it off, unless you close that fucking blabbering trap!” the other snapped back, his hands trembling from the vibrations. He had barely enough time to jerk his head away before the hammer crashed down again, the blow sending a metal shriek through his bones.

”FUCK THAT WAS CLOSE!”

“What in the abyss are you going to do, you piss-soaked twat? I’m the one holding the hammer, I could smash your skull if I sneeze. I’m saying this for your sake!”

Whatever verbal retaliation was about to explode from his partner never made it out; an arrow buried itself in the ground a few paces away, close enough to end the discussion, not close enough to end either of them.

“Got any idea why we’re doing this shit?” the holder muttered, tightening his grip on the vibrating pipe.

“Not a single fucking clue,” the hammer man grunted, giving another swing. The pipe refused to move. Instead, it screamed in protest, sending a jolt up both their arms so violent it nearly convinced them their bones would rattle loose. “All I know is it’s miserable work and my wrists are going numb. Still, what are we meant to do, say no? They’ve got swords, spears, axes, hell, one of them held a fucking skull on his belt.I ain’t telling them no nothing, but yes sir.” He trembled at the memory

“Yeah… I noticed that too,” the other replied, glancing around with a defeated sort of resignation.

All around them, men just like them, men who’d never done a day of soldiering in their life, were scattered along the ruined stretch of outer wall. Their view of the battlefield was little more than a sliver of sky and the looming stone above, for they were boxed in beneath heavy wooden carts reinforced with vertical planks. The makeshift shelters shielded them from the arrows raining down from the defenders, but only barely, and every few breaths an iron or steel point would bite into the wood with a hard thunk that reminded them how fragile their protection really was.

They could not see the other mirroring their work but they could certainly hear it. The sound of steel clashing against steel traveled even to their miserable little corner, shrill and relentless, like a drum being strangled inside a pot. It crawled into their ears, rattled their teeth, and made them wish they’d simply stayed in their villages and taken whatever fate came there.

Instead, armed men had stormed those villages, barked that they were now laborers for an emperor none of them had ever laid eyes on, and marched them here to dig, haul, hammer, and die if necessary. They were paid with meals and threats.

Mostly threats.

Still, the mind wandered even in fear, and curiosity bloomed even among the condemned.

—————-

“What is the point of this, exactly?” Edric asked as he leaned toward his old mentor, staring out toward the line of conscripts hammering the pipes into the soil. “We are building a forest of iron for the gods? Trying to make the ground wake with all that ruckus? ”

Jarza had no answer, so the eyes of the entire company drifted toward Alpheo, who stood with his arms folded, his head tilted just slightlym far enough that a single eye watched them like a hawk assessing livestock.

“How much do you know about countermining operations?” he then asked, not unkindly, but with that distinctive tone of his that always preceded explanations.

Rykio scratched his jaw with a gauntleted hand. “Shovel goes in, shovel comes out?” he ventured, sounding vaguely hopeful.

Alpheo blinked once.

Rykio coughed and looked away, his pride bruised but intact.

The prince’s gaze swept briefly toward the walls, toward the enemy’s towers, and then toward the cluster of hounds gathered near the gate. They hadn’t tasted real combat since the early sortie during the first days of the siege, and according to Egil’s second-in-command they were restless to bath in blood.

One look at them confirmed the truth of it.

They stood just outside the shadow of the collapsed first wall, their armor trimmed with oil, one hand resting on spear shafts or sword hilts, the other holding the rein, their gazes locked onto the battlements with a hunger that bordered on feral.

They had lost a father in this lands, and they wanted to pay it back with interests.

“Let me rephrase that for you in a way that even the most dim-wit could understand,” Alpheo said, letting his voice drag . His gaze drifted over them, pausing long enough to make any man that was not his friend uncomfortable. “How, exactly, do they know where to dig? It’s not as if their engineers sprouted a second pair of enchanted eyes that can peer through soil and stone.”

He gave them a moment. A painfully generous one at that. Edric scratched his beard. Rykio crossed his arms . The rest shared glances that traveled in a slow circle of confusion. They came up empty, and Alpheo finally, gave the answer.

“They only know,” he began, raising one finger, “when something approaches the wall from beneath. And the only moment they can truly suspect that someone is tunneling toward them is when the tremors reach close enough to disturb the surface. Their method is old and as elegant as a drunk ox, not that great glory could be expected when one has to dig through worms and shit.

They fill bowls with water and place them near the base of the wall. Then they watch. If the water ripples, if it shifts in the slightest, they assume someone is digging beneath them.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly in the dust. “When that bowl moves, they send their own diggers scurrying underground like frantic moles. They have them dig in every direction until they guess right and end up directly above our mine. Once they find the right spot, all they need to do is collapse the enemy tunnel with fire, usually sending dogs down the hole to scare the miners away. And in this scenario, the enemy would be us.”

A murmur of understanding rippled through the group, spreading in the same lazy way rumor usually travelled. None of them spoke, so Alpheo advanced.

“We, however, can’t make use of their tunnels to bring their wall down. They keep surfacing above ours, like fleas above worms. Which means,” he added, gesturing toward the thunderous racket on the far end of the encampment, “we make sure their precious bowls never stop trembling, so that they don’t know what the fuck is going on in the soil.”

The sounds of hammer striking steel rang again across the plain. The peasants continued driving the long steel pipes downward, their bodies jerking with every blow, their curses drifting through the dust like incantations for sanity that would never come.

“To strengthen the tremors, we buried plates of metal deep into the earth,” Alpheo continued. “Thick, broad ones, spaced carefully so that every strike sends a shiver straight to the wall. The pipes focus the vibration and amplify it. So every hour, of every day, the enemy watches their bowls quiver like leaves in a storm, so that they can’t tell if we are near them. And if they can’t tell, they can’t dig with any confidence. In fact, they’ll be terrified of wasting their diggers on wild guesses.” 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Alpheo waited as he received the pleased expression of his companions, which made the shrilling sound much more passable now that they knew what their use was for.

“Now,” Alpheo said, lips quirking upward, “they have certainly understood what we are attempting by this point. They will know we’re trying to blind their sense of hearing through the earth. And somewhere behind those walls, I can guarantee you there are engineers tearing at their hair.”

His gaze slid toward the distant gate, the one framed by the narrow shadow of the walls. Beyond it, in the dry space between earth and stone, wolf-pelt riders waited atop their restless mounts, their hands never straying far from their weapons.

“I suppose they’ll try a sortie soon,” Alpheo concluded. “Though getting through those riders would require a level of bravery, or idiocy, that even desperate men seldom possess.”

He did not need to state the obvious, that a single step outside the safety of their wall would turn any sortie into a feeding ground for the wolves.

“Will that be enough?” Jarza finally asked.

Alpheo lifted one shoulder in a slow, almost careless shrug. He had no desire to play the prophet.Nor that he could.

There were no cards tucked in his sleeves, nor could he read the palm. He was a man, one who bled when cut, limped when tired, and guessed when forced.

“I’ve no idea,” he admitted plainly. “Maybe luck decides to lean our way for once and we hit gold.”

The others stared back in silent disapproval, unimpressed by the comfort of chance. Alpheo took note of their faces and finally rolled his own eyes with a faint sigh.

“Listen,have your wit at you” he said, lifting both hands “I didn’t set all of this in motion because I wanted to cosy up to luck like some wide-eyed dreamer hoping for a miracle.

The purpose is simple. They’re blind. Completely and utterly blind. Their engineers are working with limited men and even more limited certainty. Meanwhile, we know exactly where we’re digging. They do not. Which means every man they waste hacking at the wrong patch of earth is a blessing for us. All we need to do, is give them a gentle push in the wrong direction. And then exploit the confusion that grows from that.”

He tilted his head upward, eyes following the long spine of rock that climbed toward the serrated mountains, the stone rising high enough to overshadow the camps below.

“Fortunately,” he continued, lips curling with something close to satisfaction, “I already have men in place who can handle the pushing.”

He let a small, almost mischievous smile appear. “I may be miserable at predicting the future,” he said, the words wrapped in a quiet confidence, “but I’ve always had a talent for convincing men they’re clawing their way toward treasure even while they’re sinking waist-deep in filth.Got some prizes under by belt on that, and this time ain’t really much different from all the others.”