Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 106  Making a deal

A young woman, no more than seventeen years of age, strode into the room. She was pleasing to the eye, with dark hair falling past her shoulders.Her eyes, a deep shade of green, surged toward Alpheo, taking in his presence with a brief, cool assessment.

She gave him a long, piercing look, her expression guarded, before crossing the room and sitting elegantly beside her mother, Princess Rosalind. Without a word, she straightened her back and folded her hands neatly in her lap.Alpheo returned her gaze with a slight nod of acknowledgment, sensing that the true negotiation had just begun.

"Before we dive into anything," Alpheo began, his voice steady and deliberate, "I would like to express my deepest condolences for your father." His gaze locked onto Jasmine, but his words, though calm, carried a heavy undercurrent of formality. Jasmine's eyes met his, and for a moment, she held his stare, her face betraying little emotion. She breathed in deeply, letting out a long, measured sigh, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the chair.

Rosalind, seated next to her daughter, was more visibly shaken. Her body leaned forward in her seat, the lines of worry etched deep into her face. She gripped the armrests tightly, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Was the battle lost?" she asked, her words edged with anxiety. "Is there another army coming here?" Her eyes darted toward Alpheo, pleading silently for reassurance.

Alpheo studied her for a moment. Seems like the bastard wasn't even liked by his own family, he thought , doesn't really surprise me. He shook his head, clearing the thought away. "No, the battle was won," he said, his tone firm but laced with a faint air of detachment. "The enemy was routed. As far as I know, our forces were pursuing the remnants. There's no threat to the city."

Rosalind's brow furrowed, a look of confusion washing over her features. "But then... how did he die?" Her voice was softer now, a note of disbelief creeping in. "You said he fell in battle..."

Alpheo shifted slightly in his chair, glancing between the two women. He hesitated, feeling the weight of what he was about to say. "It wasn't the enemy that took his life," he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "Your father, Prince Arkawatt, led his men into battle . Me and my soldiers had managed to capture the heir of the Oizen throne. When your father found out, he demanded that I turn the prisoner over to him immediately."

Rosalind's face twisted into a frown, her fingers digging deeper into the armrests. Beside her, Jasmine remained still, her expression controlled, though Alpheo noticed a shadow pass over her face, the faintest flicker of tension around her eyes.

"I would have been willing to negotiate," Alpheo continued, keeping his voice even. "Even to hand over the prisoner, in exchange for proper rewards and a fair share of the glory. But..." He paused, his eyes flickering briefly to Rosalind, gauging her reaction. Her expression was unreadable. He pressed on. "The prince wasn't inclined toward diplomacy that day. Instead, he ordered my head and sent his men to carry out the task. A scuffle broke out—between my troops and his."

Rosalind's knuckles whitened further, her face tightening with a mix of disbelief and anger. It was unclear to Alpheo whether her anger was directed at him or at the memory of her late husband. Jasmine's posture remained rigid, her hands clasped in her lap, but her gaze had darkened, the worry that had once been a shadow now a quiet storm.

"In the chaos," Alpheo said, his voice lowering "it happened so quickly. A javelin—thrown in the heat of battle—struck your father in the chest. It was over before anyone could stop it."

A heavy silence followed his words, pressing down on the room like a weight. Rosalind's lips parted, her face pale as she absorbed the news. Alpheo softened his tone, sensing the depth of their grief. "I know this may sound hard to believe, but I assure you, I have witnesses—many prisoners, including Sir Robert—who can attest to what happened. It wasn't intentional, nor was it part of some grand scheme. It was simply... chaos and unluck."

Rosalind's hand fidgeted restlessly, her eyes distant as she spoke. "A useless death." Her voice was almost a whisper, lacking though in sadness

Alpheo nodded solemnly. "Yes," he said, his voice echoing the sentiment. "A senseless death in the midst of a victory. His pride and greed... they cost him his life."

For a moment, the room was swallowed by a thick, suffocating silence.

Alpheo cleared his throat softly, breaking the quiet. "There's no threat to the city," he repeated, though this time his tone was gentler. "Your father's army is scattered, and his enemies lie defeated. But the battle left more than just casualties... it left a vacuum." Silence dominated the room once again.

Alpheo allowed the silence to linger for a moment, letting the weight of the conversation settle before he spoke again. His tone was soft yet deliberate, with a slight smile that hinted at the careful balance he sought to maintain. "I think now would be a good time to discuss the matter of succession."

His words seemed to catch both Rosalind and Jasmine's attention. Alpheo leaned back slightly, choosing his words carefully. "From what I understand, though I am not intimately familiar with your kingdom's history," he began, his voice steady, "there have been precedents of female rulers in your line."

He paused, his gaze shifting between mother and daughter, measuring their reactions. "However, it's also true that there have been far more instances where brothers or male relatives claimed precedence over daughters. Succession," he added, "is often more prone to regular interpretation than what's not...''

Jasmine's eyes narrowed slightly as Alpheo's words piqued her interest. Her fingers gripped the armrest, and she leaned forward, a subtle but telling shift in her posture. Alpheo continued, his tone remaining compassionate but firm. "It's crucial to understand that while your father's death has indeed created a power vacuum, the path for you to fill that void—if that is your desire—will likely be fraught with challenges, perhaps even impossible.Luckily, I am the one that can make it happen"

Jasmine's expression flickered, shifting from contemplation to a small, almost imperceptible smile. She observed Alpheo with sharp eyes, her mind clearly working through the implications of his words. Her father's death seemed to weigh little on her compared to the potential power she could seize. She leaned forward, locking her gaze with Alpheo, much like she had attempted in the garden at the feast.

"So," Jasmine said, her voice calm but carrying anticipation, "does this mean you accept the proposition I made before?"

Alpheo's lips curved into a knowing smile. He gave her a slight nod, acknowledging her question without fully committing. "I had hoped we could revisit that discussion," he said smoothly. "Our positions have shifted considerably since then, and the stakes are much higher now."

Rosalind glanced between her daughter and Alpheo, her confusion clear as she tried to piece together the unspoken conversation happening before her. It was evident she hadn't been privy to the private negotiations her daughter had been conducting with the mercenary. The realization seemed to unsettle her, though she said nothing.

Alpheo leaned back into his chair, his posture casual, though every movement was calculated. "Before we move forward, there's still the matter of my previously owed payment for services rendered." His gaze slid between Jasmine and Rosalind, the tension between them almost palpable as they waited for him to continue.

He let a small, reassuring smile touch his lips. "However, given the circumstances—and as a gesture of goodwill—I'm willing to overlook the remaining balance. Consider it a token of our potential cooperation."

Jasmine raised her eyebrows in surprise. For a moment, her nervousness was replaced by curiosity. She glanced at Alpheo, clearly intrigued by his sudden generosity. "If you're willing to overlook the payment," she asked, her voice cautious but direct, "what is it that you want in return?"

Alpheo's smile widened ever so slightly, appreciating Jasmine's straightforwardness. He leaned in a little, his eyes gleaming with purpose. "Before we dive into the specifics, I think it's important to clarify our current situation. Who exactly are your main competitors for the succession?"

Jasmine took a moment to collect her thoughts, her expression turning serious as she considered her response. "My uncle, Lord Ormund, is the primary contender. He's been away from court for years—his relationship with my father was strained. He never took well to being under my father's authority." She paused, her lips tightening. "Ormund has two sons: Darian, who is thirteen, and Cedric, who is only six."

Alpheo nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. "So, Ormund," he murmured, his voice low, "a brother who's been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to strike. And a son who's just old enough to start making waves." He leaned forward slightly, fixing Jasmine with a sharp look. "Now that I have a clearer picture of your opposition, I need to know who will be supporting you."

His tone shifted, becoming more pointed. "It's crucial that you are completely honest with me, Jasmine. I've already made the decision to assist you, but if I find out you've been less than forthcoming, it could make me reconsider that support."

Jasmine's eyes met Alpheo's . She took a steadying breath before speaking. "My grandfather will certainly support me. He has a vested interest in seeing me on the throne due to our shared bloodline. His influence extends over many minor nobles who will align with me. As for the others, most will likely remain neutral, avoiding direct involvement in the conflict."

Alpheo listened intently, his expression carefully composed. However, inwardly, he was skeptical. He knew from his own sources that the support Jasmine claimed from her grandfather was consistent with what he had heard. Yet, her portrayal of widespread neutrality in a possible civil war struck him as dubious. From what he knew, many nobles were more inclined to back the male candidate due to traditional preferences and the stability they believed a male ruler would bring.

He remained silent, his mind turning over the discrepancies in her account. It was clear that Jasmine's claim of a nearly neutral stance from the nobility was likely a partial truth, with many more nobles expected to support her rival.

Alpheo nodded thoughtfully, his expression grave and resolute. "Now that we've discussed the pressing matters, even though I think some of us were not truthful, let me outline what I bring to the table. It's clear that what you need most at this juncture is a substantial increase in military strength. To address this, I can provide you with 400 well-equipped infantry, 100 bowmen, and 80 mounted riders. Furthermore, I have the resources to expand these numbers even further, should the need arise, which trust me it will "

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his offer settle in the room. "In addition to an army , I also have with me the heir to the Oizen princedom. Which will certainly make for a nice diplomatic visit from the prince of Oizen.Nothing better to start one's rule than to have a victory over a rival...''

Jasmine's eyes sharpened as she understood that the boy in front of her was indispensable, if she was to go forth. She glanced briefly at her mother, who remained silent, apparently the young woman was still not at ease with her new-given power as she looked at her mother for direction, maybe even permission? Alpheo couldn't quite tell....

"What do you ask in return?" She finally asked Alpheo's eyes locked onto Jasmine's . He let the pause stretch, "In exchange for this support, I have but one simple request."

With deliberate slowness, he extended a finger toward Jasmine. @@novelbin@@