Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 940: Rat’s war(5)

Mavius stood alone in his chamber, no servants bustling about, no lords murmuring flattery, not even the steady presence of guards, he was alone with himself and his mind. Once, he had despised solitude.

He had thrived in noise long ago, in laughter, in music, in the intoxication of perpetual celebration that life called for its shortness; people had called him a reveler, a bright flame burning through the nights.

Now, stripped of the second, he was forced to make a reluctant peace with the first.

At the very least, he thought bitterly, the silence spared him the sight of others shrinking from him. He knew what he had become, every inch of twisted skin, every mark, everything of what had been carved away and left with. He did not need eyes to feel their revulsion.

Men could not look long upon the sun for its blinding radiance.So too, no one could look long upon him without disgust seeping in their gaze.

His sightless eyes drifted to where he knew his purple cloak hung. That cloak, his imperial dye, his right, his symbol, was the last thing left that still inspired him. When one’s own wife recoils from the touch of her husband, when even a empress cannot hold her expression steady... what else is there but to cling to the role carved for you? To the title that still granted a sliver of dignity?

He had been so close.So close he could feel the victory brushing against his fingertips. And then, like a sandcastle caught by the tide, everything collapsed at once.

From the man poised to triumph, he had become the one being hunted.

Even in blindness, he felt the enemy crawling ever nearer, like cold fingers brushing the back of his neck. Worse still, he had no notion from which direction the blow would fall, nor did he possess the tools to counter it.

The Fingers lacked shovels, lacked pickaxes, lacked everything that they now needed.

That southern bastard, he thought with a grinding clench of his jaw, must have planned this from the beginning, even before their victory in the field.

Their miners outnumbered his at least three to one. Even with his people working themselves half to death, there was no winning a race when the opponent brought three legs to your one.

He lifted the lower edge of his mask and began worrying at his thumb nail . He could hardly remember the last night he’d slept without jolting awake, convinced the enemy had already broken through the walls. And perhaps it would not even be miners that killed him.

Perhaps it would be a dagger between his ribs, slid in by one of his own lords. His father’s warnings echoed in his skull,he had seen the dissatisfaction in their faces, the tight jaws, the averted eyes.

How long before one of them broke?How long before ambition outweighed what he could offer?

He couldn’t even do anything to prevent it. He did not have enough loyal men to secure every gate, every hall, every choke point where betrayal might take root. He felt caged, stranded at the center while lions prowled freely outside, their claws scraping closer with every hour.

This had truly been a mis—

"YOUR IMPERIAL MAJESTY!"

The doors crashed open. A guard stumbled inside, breathless and wild-eyed.

Mavius felt his blood turn to ice as he yanked his mask fully back over his ruined face. He braced for the worst, breach, betrayal, collapse.

Instead, the guard nearly shouted:

"Reinforcements have arrived from the capital! The Empress herself leads them!"

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For eleven years he had ruled.

Yet it felt as if only yesterday Landoff had entered his old solar, to inform him of the old Imperator’s, his father, death and inform him of the treachery of his stepmother.

That had been their opportunity, and to strengthen the alliance, marriage was to be done.

Mavius had agreed with almost insulting ease. Eloir had been easy enough on the eyes, certainly pleasant enough to look at, but that was where her virtues ended. He had not married her for charm, nor companionship, nor even the prospect of heirs.

He had married her because he needed the East, and placing an Eastern noblewoman at his side was proof that he intended to uphold the many titles and concessions he had promised in exchange for their support.

It had worked. For centuries, the Core had hoarded the most influential seats: the council posts, the ceremonial offices, the Imperial advisors. Not a single Eastern provincial had ever sat among the Imperator’s close circle. Their resentment had festered like rot beneath polished stone, and Mavius, young, ambitious, promising change, had been the perfect vessel for their pent-up envy and ambition. Eloir had been nothing more than a symbolic tap opening the flood of their allegiance.

She had always been... dull? Bland in conversation, timid in bed, and quiet as a frightened rodent. Mavius preferred lovers who screamed their devotion, who matched his appetite with their own. Eloir had never been one of them.

And after their child died, she had retreated entirely into a shadow of herself,sunken cheeks, shaking hands, unable to leave her bed for weeks at a time. He had walked past her chamber once and nearly gagged at the rot of stale sickness and unwashed blankets. She had looked then like a ghost clinging to a dying body.

So yes, he was relieved that reinforcements had finally come. He needed soldiers he could trust, men who answered to him rather than to wavering lords with wandering loyalties. But her presence... that was another thing.

He hadn’t seen her in months, and the woman who dismounted before him now hardly resembled the fragile thing he remembered. Her cheeks had regained their softness; her posture had straightened; color warmed her skin where only pallor had once lingered. But it was her eyes that struck him most: alive, truly alive, in a way he had never witnessed from her. Not at their wedding when she had become empress. Not on their wedding night where she became woman. Not ever.

A strange sensation coiled in his chest as her gaze fell upon him, like a forgotten nerve twitching back to life.

She smiled, graceful, serene, almost regal, and dipped into a small bow."Husband, you requested aid, and I have brought it. My apologies for the delay, it required more time than I had hoped."

"Well-needed, daughter," Landoff said warmly as he stepped forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Affection, on the surface.

A lie, that was what it was.

Mavius inclined his head, studying her with a mixture of confusion and faint unease."Your presence is... warming, wife. Both for your recovery and your company. Yet I confess, your decision to come perplexes me. This fortress is a place of blood and filth, as you can smell for yourself. There are no rose gardens here, nor scented baths, nor the comforts of the palace."

Eloir’s smile did not falter."I did not expect any comfort. I am familiar enough with the look and smell of a battlefield to know I should expect little of bath and gardens."

He let out a soft, incredulous breath."Do you intend, then, to take up arms and—"

"Your Imperial Majesty," Lord Landoff interrupted swiftly, a firm hand on his son-in-law’s sleeve to stop the brewing quarrel. "Perhaps these matters would be better discussed within shelter, away from the road, while the troops are settled and assigned their positions."

Eloir turned to her father with a radiant, steady gaze."I have brought the soldiers’ shovels and pickaxes, just as you instructed, Father. The caravans at the rear carry the rest."

Relief and triumph washed across both men’s faces. Tools, finally, tools to counter the enemy’s advance.

Mavius wasted no time."Distribute them to the laborers at once and set them to digging where instructed!" he barked to his bodyguard, who ran to carry out the order.

Eloir watched him with an unreadable expression before speaking again, her tone impeccably polite."Husband, with your permission, I would take shelter in my cousin’s manor. It has been far too long since I shared words with my kin, and I admit curiosity in seeing how he fares. This fortress is his property, after all, it is due that I greet him."

Under normal circumstances, that reminder, that the land was not his, that he was still a guest even as Imperator, would have sparked anger or at least irritation. But something about the way she held his gaze without flinching, without shrinking, without that familiar flicker of disgust... it left him oddly disarmed?

She stepped a little closer, her voice low and clear:"I would also request the honor of speaking with you this evening. We have lost much time, and there is much we could discuss, if, of course, you do not prefer your solitude and to be less of my company."

For an instant, no longer than a single breath, yet deep enough to unmoor him, Mavius found himself stunned into silence.

He opened his mouth, intending.....he did not even know what exactly, he would say, but the world, merciless as ever, chose that moment to remind him of where he stood and what hunted him.

A sound rose from the depths of the earth.

Awfully familiar....

Low at first, like the groan of something ancient shifting in its sleep, then swelling into a shuddering, unmistakable rumble that crawled through the stone foundation and up into his bones. Dust sifted from the rafters. The flagstones trembled beneath his boots. A breath later, the faint, distant crack of breaking supports reached the surface,sharp, hollow, and far too familiar.

His skin crawled. His throat tightened.Because he knew that sound.

He had heard it long in his nightmares.

And now it came back, this time ....very much alive.