Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 983: Matters to deal with(3)

Jarza was right about the risk, but he was dead wrong about the hesitation, for Alpheo held none.

He knew the nightmare of overseas logistics; he knew that shipping grain across a wide stretch of water was a drain on the treasury, and he knew that every legionnaire sent across the sea was a blade missing from home. And in their world where a four-month training cycle was the difference between a recruit and a soldier, the manpower was a precious currency he was currently spending on a gamble. Especially when war was so close to his shore.

But Alpheo had made his name through motion, so he did not hesitate.

"Legate," Alpheo said. His voice was suddenly stripped of all warmth. The familiarity of two lifelong friends vanished, replaced by the weight of their position.

Jarza snapped to attention. Even with the remnants of dinner on his breath, the soldier’s instinct took over; his spine straightened against the back of his chair as if he were standing before a reviewing stand.

"You are a soldier, and you have your orders," Alpheo continued, his gaze boring into Jarza’s soul. "Your mind is not to be clouded by the ’why’ or the ’if.’ Your purpose is to extend my will until it reaches the throat of my enemies.

Have you gone soft, Legate? Has the prospect of a nursery made you lose your edge?"

"No, Your Grace! Never!" Jarza’s response was a bark.

"They have spat upon my seal. They have mocked the will of Yarzat. If they do not bow, the only answer is broken backs. I have no need for dogs that bite the hand that offers iron. If they refuse to kneel before you, then salt their earth.Slay their men. Seize their herds. The women and children you shall bring back here in chains to settle the lands of my choosing.May rot take all that we do not seize. If they do not bow to the might of the First, then let their cinders wash away the insult."

"I shall commit myself to it, Your Grace," Jarza replied, his face a mask of iron.

Just as quickly as the storm had gathered, it broke. Alpheo leaned back, exhaling a long, weary breath, and the tension in the room evaporated. They were friends again, though the orders of possible butchery etched in the air between them.

"How much support can I truly expect if the steel starts singing?" Jarza asked, his voice returning to a rumble as he made himself comfortable once more.

"Very little from the mainland," Alpheo replied dryly. He watched Jarza closely, pleased when the general didn’t flinch at the news. "You can expect shipments of grain and food, but do not look for reinforcements. If you come to blows, you will rely on the Governor’s garrison and the Chorsi chieftain. They will be your bulk, but the First will be the steel tip of the spear that shatters their resolve."

"And you’re sure the Chorsi will take our presence well? We’ll be marching against people who are, at least on paper, their own kin. Normally I would doubt they would take that kindly." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"Their chieftain is no fool," Alpheo said simply. "Between the tribes and us, he knows which side is the anvil and which is the nail. He knows where his iron comes from. He may ask for permission to warn his neighbors, to give them a final chance to repent, that much is acceptable, even welcomed. As I said, I would prefer to save the powder to nurse the wound, but I will not demean myself for an unjust peace."

Jarza nodded, the plan finally taking shape in his mind. "I know my part, then. But what is the prize?"

Alpheo tilted his cup, watering a throat that had grown dry "You are the hand that knocks on the door, Jarza. The business of talking will fall to the men who follow in your wake. But the objective is clear: we will renegotiate the alliance to favor the Chorsi as the central head. We will centralize power in their hands... until the silver mines are secured."

A predatory light flickered in Alpheo’s eyes. "Once the mines are ours, we will reverse the flow. We will decentralize. We have no interest in unifying the mountains into a rival power; a fragmented land is a profitable land. I just need a stable desk to trade across. After that, we institute an embassy in every tribe, to facilitate communication, yes, but primarily to begin the recruitment project. I want those mountain boys in Yarzat wool.’’

The Legate’s eyebrow shot up like a drawn bow. "Recruitment? You want me to play the press-gang in the peaks?"

Alpheo relented a bit but then nodded. "The days of gifting steel to Varaku for the sake of a quiet border are over. War is a glutton, and its appetite is growing. We need numbers, yes, but we also need a specific kind of violence. The men of those mountains are masters of the shadow and the ambush, asymmetrical warfare is written in their marrow. I want that under me."

He leaned forward, the firelight catching the cold calculation in his eyes. "We shall offer a bounty: a suit of chainmail to the chieftain for every warrior who joins our ranks. After three years of service, the warrior may return home with his steel, or he may bring his entire family to settle in Yarzat.

Aron and I believe they will choose our warm cradle over the mountain. Once they trudge through our fertile valleys and taste the prosperity of a land that doesn’t try to kill them at every turn, they will stay. They will want this warmth for their grandsons.We will gain warrior and settlers."

Jarza looked at his friend with a lingering shadow of doubt. The plan was audacious, but there was something that bothered him about it all.

"You’ve mapped out the stars, it seems," Jarza rumbled. "I shall attend to it. But I have one question, not for the mission, but for my own peace of mind. I am a man of simple steel, your labyrinths sometimes make my head spin."

"I am a man haunted by my own curiosities," Alpheo replied with a faint, tired smile. "I won’t leave you to suffer yours alone. Speak."

And speak he did.Relaying the problem that every nation had regarding their colonial dominion.

"You are arming them. You are training them. You are helping them forge an alliance that can actually stand," Jarza noted, his voice dropping an octave. "But once they seize those silver mines, what is to stop them from barring the door? They’ll have the steel, the numbers, and a landscape that eats logistical lines for breakfast. They could make an intervention so costly in coin and corpses that we wouldn’t dare strike. Am I wrong?"

Alpheo nodded slowly. The Azanians had learned that lesson in blood and broken wagons decades ago. "You are entirely correct. They could fight us. They could even win. But you are operating on a false premise, Jarza. We are not going to take control of those mines."

"We aren’t?" Jarza blinked, genuinely stunned.

"Of course not! Even if we seized them, how long could we hold them? Ten years of constant rebellion and drained treasuries? Sometimes Empire do not fall with a bang, but from constant erosion. Rome did not fall in a day....Why would I want the headache of ownership and the enmity of every mountain tribe when I can simply reap the harvest without ever touching the plow?"

"I doubt they’ll be happy giving their silver away for free," Jarza countered. "What is the point of owning the earth if you don’t keep the treasure?"

"My friend," he spread his arms open as if embracing the very air of the room, "consider the farmer. He toils in the dirt to reap his grain. Does he rage when the merchant arrives to buy his harvest? No, he rejoices because the coin he receives buys the things he truly desires. And what happens when there is only one merchant in the world? What happens when that merchant holds the monopoly on everything the farmer craves?"

Alpheo leaned in. "We control the only port. We are the only gateway to the goods of this continent. The Azanians are blocked by the Horse Lords, leaving those tribes with nowhere else to turn. Why go through the labor of mining the silver ourselves when we can simply trade a handful of iron and grain for a mountain of silver? We let them do the digging; we simply provide the only market in existence."

Jarza leaned back, the sheer scale of the trap finally dawning on him.

He looked at Alpheo and felt a sudden, sharp chill of profound respect.

He began to smile, an expression that Alpheo returned in kind.

"As I said, my dear friend," Alpheo murmured playfully "that land shall be our personal jewel. We won’t wear the crown of the mountains; we’ll simply own the man who does."