Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 938: Rat’s war(3)

The sting of antiseptic rose to meet him the moment he pushed the tent flap aside, followed by the heavie scent of erbal infuses simmering somewhere in the back.

It was hardly unfamiliar; after every engagement, even though they were victorious, Alpheo made it a point to visit the medical tents, drifting between the rows of wounded and dying , hearing their last words, giving out encouragement and congratulations for their service, promising them they would well taken care of.

All that yada yada.

No one usually bothered asking him why he always went there. They all believed they knew already,still, If someone pressed him, he would say it was duty, an obligation to understand the true cost of his wars, or an attempt to honor the soldiers whose strength bled out in the name of their state. Perhaps both at once, if he needed to sound especially noble.

But they were lies, every one of them.

For all his fondness for the men who fought beneath his banners, for all his insistence that veterans deserved a life of plenty once their years of service had ended, he did not hold the illusion that human life possessed some unassailable worth. If it did, it would not be the cheapest resource on any battlefield.

It was sad , but that was the truth.

"Your Grace," a gravelly voice rasped from the cot ahead, dragging him from his thoughts. "I would kneel or bow, at the very least, but I find myself a touch... indisposed."

Marcus did not lift the blanket to display the injury beneath; he assumed, quite reasonably, that Alpheo already knew the extent of it. And the prince did, Aganthios had given him a clinical report, complete with everything he noted should serve his prince.

"I would have preferred to see you under more auspicious circumstances," Marcus continued , his voice striving for levity but cracking under exhaustion. "Still... It’s good to look upon a familiar face. You’re the first in longer than I care to remember. You’ve had me shuttled from one mission to another without so much as a chance to breathe.Had I not known any better, I would have said the prince held dislike for little Marcus."

"Apologies for that," Alpheo said as he pulled a chair beside the cot, lowering himself onto it "You’re simply too damn useful."

Marcus huffed something resembling a laugh, though it ended in a tight wince. "Never thought praise would be what knocked me flat," he muttered. "Hurts worse than the arrow did. Speaking of that, did the Butcher Hand pass judgment on Mash’s fine attempt at surgery?"

"He did," Alpheo replied, the faintest hint of amusement threading through his voice. "Compared it to his own handiwork before he joined us.If you do not recall he was a butcher"

’’Hard to forget with his nickname’’ Marcus gave a dry chuckle, sinking deeper into the cot as though the effort of laughing tugged painfully along the fresh stitches. "To be fair, we were short on time and I was even shorter on luck. Mash did what he could, though it burned like a fiend the entire way through. If I’d known I was going to keep breathing after it, I would’ve told them to save the damned arrowhead. Would’ve had it mounted in my quarters.’’

"Would have made a fine topic of conversation," Alpheo murmured.

Marcus clapped his hands together with boyish delight, his grin widening as if glad to find someone as morbidly amused as he was. "Gods, I would’ve loved it," he declared, lifting one hand as though holding an invisible cup. "Oh, that? Nothing much,just a little souvenir some mountain-climbing friends gave me." He twisted his hips on the cot, sticking his rear out with exaggerated pride, despite the wound being nowhere near his backside. "Left a handsome mark on my thigh. Want a kiss for luck?"

"Grateful it didn’t hit your head," Alpheo answered dryly. "I would have missed your humor."

"So would I," Marcus sighed in a tone that was almost wistful. "Though I admit I’m wounded you only gave me a chuckle. Egil would’ve been howling....They’re going to pay for what they did."

"That was his kind of humor," Alpheo confirmed, though the name burned in his throat like ash.

Marcus continued without noticing the flicker of guilt that shadowed the prince’s face. "Well, the mad dog got the last laugh, didn’t he? Routed an entire damned army with donkeys and pack horses. I’d drink to him this moment, but the healers banned me from alcohol. Once that fucking castle is ash on the ground, though, I’ll drink the best I have in his honor."

Alpheo looked at his hands, steadying his voice before it could betray him. "I am only glad I didn’t have to bury you as well."

"You wouldn’t have needed to," Marcus replied simply. "Either the rocks would’ve crushed me to paste, or the dogs would’ve had their feast. There are too many corpses in the earth already, might as well leave some bodies for the birds. They hunger too, and we ought to be kind to the Gods’ creation, don’t we?"

Alpheo found himself studying the man with renewed respect. Marcus had never been groomed for command, yet the raw instinct that lived in him had made him indispensable. A fortunate accident of fate had delivered such a mind into his service.

"Speaking of birds," Marcus continued, shifting carefully on the cot. "How is Lucius these days? Last time I saw the slippery bastard, we were planning and then of course executing an ambush against a lord’s retinue in Ozenia."

"He’s exactly where you left him," Alpheo replied. "Turns out he has a talent for desk work. Paperwork and coordination calm him, apparently. Just as the field demands your particular... talents."

"Bastard gets parchment while I get arrows," Marcus snorted. "Where’s the justice in that? Did he at least get his retirement?"

Alpheo’s expression tightened, just enough to be noticeable. "Not yet. He seems to have taken a liking to commanding men from safety. His problem was always being too close to danger."

"Couldn’t imagine what that feels like," Marcus muttered with a crooked smile. "So...did I earn my well-deserved rest at least?I do want to beat Lucius in something."

"How would you like a castle," Alpheo began, leaning forward as if preparing to open a treaty, "a noble lady for a wife, and a proper title to your name?"

Marcus stared at him for a moment before snorting. "Shit... you truly are desperate for hands."

"I have no shortage of recruits," Alpheo countered, trying to thread warmth and persuasion into the words. "But you are my best agent."

Marcus raised one brow. "Liar Liar pants on fire. I’m sure you’d say the same if Lucius were sitting in this cot right now."

Alpheo’s jaw tightened just slightly, Marcus had no idea how close he was to the truth. "Perhaps I should keep a board with points," the prince muttered, then changed his posture, the levity draining away as command settled back onto his shoulders. "Do you feel well enough to give me a proper report now?"

Marcus straightened, pain flickering through his features yet failing to extinguish the iron in his voice.

"Aye," Marcus began, dragging the word out as though it weighed as much as the blanket covering his legs. "You know we pulled it off... but I’m sure you want the fat juice of it."His voice carried no humor this time, only the brittle edge of a man recounting something he preferred not to have experienced.

"The bastards figured out where we slipped in the first time. Made damn sure not to repeat their mistake. Every carriage that rolled through the eastern gate was flipped over like they were gutting fish. So the moment they started overturning wagons, our plan for sneaking out inside one died right there in the mud." 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

He rubbed his face with the back of his hand, expression clouding."They started taking some of the laborers in the night," he said quietly. "Ten men gone every night. No screams, no struggle, no trace. You didn’t need a genius to understand it was only a matter of time before they grabbed one of us."

He spat on the tent floor, unable to swallow the frustration and fury."But what I didn’t expect was that they’d have the guts to drag away hundreds of the poor sods if it meant they might snag the spies among them."

He dragged a trembling breath between his teeth."Looking back, I should’ve expected that. Should’ve known that masked cunt would butcher half a damn village for a single rumor." His voice cracked, just faintly. "We decided to run when they got Joas. He was the youngest"

The name left Marcus’s mouth like a stone dropping into a dried-up well.Alpheo felt the urge to tell him he’d had no choice, that he’d done what any sensible man would do, but he kept himself still. Marcus already knew; reassurance would only cheapen the confession.

"They’re probably torturing him as we speak," Marcus muttered, the words scraping out of him. "Anyway, he was the first. We agreed the next night had to be our last."

His hands fidgeted against the blanket, mimicking movements from the escape as though his body still remembered every pain.

"We took out a pair of guards, stole their armor, and made for the wall.We faked guards bringing peasants to the chamber.

That’s when the real dying started. The climb was steeper than we thought. Half the handholds were loose rock, the kind of shit that cracks off at the slightest pressure. The grips grew slick with our own blood. When the first man slipped, he screamed the whole way down. That’s what alerted them."

He shook his head slowly."They started shooting blindly into the dark. We had no torches, so while the enemy knew not where we were....we did not know where to go. You grabbed a hold and prayed. I was one of the lucky ones, believe it or not."

He tapped the bandages around his thigh."This? That was luck that night."

His voice rattled as he listed the names."Vosk. Vervi. Luro. Cori. Mostirn. Kristas. Arrows got some of ’em. Others just... fell. Arms gave out. Rocks snapped off. One second they were climbing beside me, breath in their lungs, grit in their teeth, next second they were paste."

He swallowed hard. His eyes gleamed with moisture, but he forced it back, refusing to let the tears fall.

"When the nine of us that were left finally crawled over the top, we didn’t even speak. Just started tending to whoever wasn’t breathing through a hole they weren’t born with. But without proper alchohol, without water, hell, even without time, some didn’t make it through the descent. Infection took them before the cold or blood would. One just... sat down and didn’t stand again."

Marcus stared directly at Alpheo now, letting the weight of the numbers settle."Sixteen men followed me in. Four limped back out. "

He let out a low, hollow exhale."They were among the bravest bastards I’ve ever had at my back. I’m going to miss them.Nurtured them since they were babe you know...I would hope you do not...but I have the feeling you do."

He leaned back, exhausted by the retelling, though his voice held a shard of pride."We succeeded, though.We were hard bastards. Hope that’s enough for the gods to treat them to a drink in whatever comes after."

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, one with no humor at all."So... that retirement we talked about, truly not an option?"

Shame surged through Alpheo, as he slowly shook his head.

He truly couldn’t spare a dagger like him.