Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 955: Barred roads(5)

For a long moment, no one said anything. Silence reigned over the tent, thick and invisible as the smoke from the guttering candles. Perhaps it was insensible of Alpheo to extend such an offer to a man who had just spent weeks opposing him, but it was a core facet of his nature: when Alpheo saw something that shined, he felt a primal, irresistible urge to grab it and never let go.

He had done so with Lucius,with Marcus and Talek. He would do so now with Willios. It was, in its simplest form, human nature to be attracted to brilliance, and Alpheo was more dragon than human in that regard. He didn’t just want servants; he wanted a hoard of the finest minds and sharpest blades the world could offer.

There was no hidden political ploy behind the offer, no layered trickery. It was born of pure, unadulterated respect for the fight Willios had put up, even if that struggle had been aimed at Alpheo’s own heart.

Willios had led a demoralized army, a collection of broken spirits on the very edge of collapse, and forced them to stand fast for four grueling days. He had done so without aid, without the hope of reinforcement, and without the slightest delusion of victory. Alone and forgotten, he still stood.

And even when defeat was inevitable, the Lord of the Fingers had planned one last, vicious trick. Who would have thought a man would destroy his own walls just to spite a conqueror? Beneath the very foundations of the fortress, Willios had ordered his men to mine the earth and set it ablaze. He had effectively gutted the fortress from the inside out once he realized the enemy would be the ones walking the battlements.

The strategic importance of The Fingers was its ability to hold the mountain pass, and by destroying the walls facing the rebellious provinces, Willios had bought the very liege who betrayed him at least two more years of peace. He had paved the way for a future campaign to reclaim his fief, even as he was being led away in chains.

It was clear that Willios was a man who did not need a throne to shine; he was a fire that burned even in the dampest dark. He was a weapon of such quality that Alpheo couldn’t help but want his hand on the hilt and just imagine what he could accomplish with him.

As for whether his loyalty would still linger toward the coward Mavius? Alpheo wasn’t worried. Yarzat would likely never share a direct border with Mavius’s remaining holdings, and if Alpheo ever found himself forced into another campaign in the Romelian Core, he would simply leave Willios at home under a watchful eye. Alpheo was confident that, given time, the Marshal would realize that a Prince who bleeds for his friends is a far better master than a Emperor who flees from them.

Alpheo did not care in that moment how Rykyo or the others would react; they would come to learn. Of that, he was certain. He had built his statehood on the backs of men others had discarded, and he saw in the prisoner a soul that refused to be truly conquered.

He had never set sail with smooth water, but instead always moved the waters by virtue of his power.

He needed great man for that , however.

When the silence had grown far too long for the Marshal to bear, he finally broke the bewildered look that adorned his eyes and spoke.

"There comes a time for any man when he must test his will against his morals. It is easy enough for a man to obey his duty when it costs him nothing," Willios said, his eyes closing as if immersing himself in the memory of the youth he once was, like a philosopher testing his view of the world. "The real hardships come when you must offer everything for no reward except your own standing loyalty.

That choice came to me when I was a young and energetic man. The boy in me had dreamed through all his candid years of serving the state, of mimicking the great heroes of old. He grew up hearing of Teleus, slayer of dragons and giants, and Mereus the Steadfast, right hand of Vrivius the Red."

He paused, a ghost of a bitter smile playing on his lips. "When the time to choose finally came, loyalty was a hard and tumultuous road. The heir apparent was raised with the lords of the snow, distant and cold. I, of course, desired to travel and swear my service to the crown, but then I was told of my cousin’s marriage to the Prince. Mavius was not yet a monster then. He was a charming, beautiful man. It did not pain me to serve him."

He moved his eyes to the Prince’s, finding no hate, no fear, and no sadness there.

"I chose my family over the abstract duty of the state. I stand by that choice now, even when I have been deserted by them. I broke my own values long ago; I do not think I can stand to break them anew. I do not know what my liege would do to my uncles and his wife if word reached him that I had bent the knee to the man who took his fortress." An apologetic look passed over his face, sincere and heavy. "I hope you do not take this wrongly, Your Grace. My refusal comes from my familial circumstances, not from any ill will toward your person. I have been shown only courtesy by your hand."

Alpheo leaned forward, the firelight dancing in his golden eyes. He wasn’t used to hearing no. "Is there nothing, Willios? No guarantee of safety, no shadow-work I can perform to extract your kin? Tell me your price. I have a long memory and a longer reach. Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind?"

Willios shook his head slowly, a gesture of absolute finality. "There is none. My kin are in the heart of the Rose; even your hand cannot pluck them from the monster’s mouth without starting a fire that would consume them all. My path is set, Prince.

It ends in the mud or on the block."

He straightened his back, a Marshal to the very end, even without a sword.

"But," Willios added, his voice regaining its steady, professional clip, "I am still a guest in your tent, and I owe you for the wine and the respect. Is there anything else I may help you with? Any knot I can untie for you? I will answer to the best of my possibility, so long as it does not put a blade to my family’s throat. Ask your questions, and let us finish this dance with the dignity it deserves."

The sigh that escaped Alpheo was born from the cinders of the grand design he had envisioned for the man. It was a profound tragedy to see a masterwork tool wasted in the grip of a fool, yet Willios remained immovable.

Still Alpheo needed answers to doubts that still lingered. He had meant to ask this after he swore service to him, but now that was no longer possible, he still attempted the question.

"When nations move to war, there is a common conception," Alpheo began, choosing his words as if navigating a field filled with mines. "We are not savages warring over guttering fires. There is a conduct, a thin veil of civilization that all parties must respect. Even when that veil is torn, we understand the monstrosities birthed from the minds of vicious men. We understand greed, wrath, and cruelty.Those are human things , after all."

Alpheo leaned forward "But what I saw on that field where my army smashed yours, was something I could not comprehend. Those were monsters wearing the stolen skin of men. They felt no pain. They knew no fear. They offered no mercy. I was told they even feasted on human meat’’ A pained expression passed through the Mashall as Alpheo continued ’’There is nothing that would distinguish them from beasts devoid of any reason.What are they?"

A violent grimace contorted Willios’ face. He looked as though he had been asked to swallow broken glass. For a long, agonizing minute, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the dregs of his wine.

Alpheo could not believe it.

"Even now, do you wish to defend the man?" Alpheo asked, his irritation flaring. He could not fathom such loyalty.

Willios shook his head slowly. "You misunderstand, Your Grace. I do not wish to refuse you. The truth is, I am struggling to find words for that which cannot be conveyed through speech. How do you describe a scream to a man that has no throat? Or to a blind man, what vision is?"

"How do we know you aren’t just spinning a web of lies?" Rykyo growled behind the prince. "One last act of devotion to your coward-liege?"

Willios looked at the Legate, his expression unoffended and utterly hollow. "My refusal to serve your Prince comes from fear for my kin, not from any lingering love for the monster on the throne.

Mavius has no way of knowing this information comes from my lips; any soldier unfortunate enough to survive that field could tell you the same tales. My loyalty is a stubborn thing, yes, I have been betrayed, deserted, and discarded, yet I would still have served him faithfully despite it all"

The Marshal shuddered, his hands trembling against the table. "But what loyalty can survive when you see common men transformed into things that should never walk beneath the holy light of the sun?

I beseech you, give me a moment to gather the threads of my memory. I must not forget a single detail. Before I am a servant to any man, I am a servant to the Gods. If I must choose whose punishment I fear most, I choose the heavens over the Rose."

With a trembling hand, Willios traced the symbol of the stars across his breastplate. He then fell into a deep, haunted silence.

And then he began to spill everything out challening any firmness that had been in the prince understandings of that new world.