Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 402: Pioneers of the futures(1)

At just twenty-two winters, Aron was hardly a seasoned diplomat. His experience in statecraft was limited to a handful of fruitless missions to the Principality of Oizen—exercises in formality rather than actual negotiations. Not because he lacked skill, but because the power dynamic had been entirely lopsided, with Yarzat becoming too weak to hold its own.

A deal between nations is only upheld after all when both sides wield comparable strength, either to match each other, or enough to make war a costly affair .

If a nation grows powerful enough to discard a treaty that no longer serves its interests, why wouldn't it? Likewise, if a stronger nation deems an agreement with a weaker one insufficiently beneficial, it may seek to renegotiate—or dictate new terms entirely. And should negotiations fail, the decision to go to war becomes a simple matter of weighing risks against rewards. If the spoils of victory outweigh the costs of conflict, then war is merely an extension of diplomacy by other means.

Of course, not every war is the result of cold calculation. Some are set into motion by unforeseen events, spiraling beyond the control of even the most cautious rulers. In many cases, war is not planned—it simply happens, a chain reaction of missteps, ambition, and circumstance leading to the inevitable clash of steel.

Before Alpheo's arrival, Yarzats had been losing the war in every way that mattered—on the battlefield, and in politics. The prince's defeats had turned the crown into little more than a joke.Only with the arrival of Alpheo did things turned around, as with some military victories he managed to succeed into drawing back nobles who had once distanced themselves from the sinking ship that was the royal court. Now, with momentum on their side, those same lords were slithering back, eager to align themselves with power once again.

Currently Aron's last week and a half at sea had been, by all means, the most exciting stretch of his life. For someone who had spent most of his days dealing with the dull formalities of court, the open sea had proven to be a far more unpredictable stage.@@novelbin@@

At first, the voyage had been uneventful—just the rhythmic creaking of the oars and the steady wind filling the sails, horrible food and the continuous swaying of the ship that made Aron wanting to throw up .

That was until they spotted trouble on the horizon. Pirates. Two ships, to be exact, shadowing them from a distance, never drawing too close but never straying far enough to be dismissed. 

The head of the expedition, a sub-centurion named Valen Decius, had tolerated their presence for the better part of two days. Valen wasn't particularly remarkable in rank—just an sub-centurii of the White Army given a temporary promotion for this mission—but he had the air of a man who valued discipline above all else. And patience, Aron quickly learned, was not his strong suit.

On the third day of their unwanted escort, Valen had finally had enough. Standing at the prow of his galley, he barked an order for two of their ships to break formation and give chase. The military galleys, built for speed and endurance, surged forward, their rowers pulling with the fury of men eager for action. The pirates, realizing they had lingered too long, tried to flee. But their smaller, single-masted vessels, propelled only by their meager rowers, stood little chance.