Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Lucius sat atop a flat stone worn smooth by time, one leg lazily crossed over the other. The wind came in sharp from the sea, tugging at his dark cloak and whipping his curled blonde hair to the side. He didn't bother fixing it; there was something pleasant about letting the wind do as it pleased.

He grew near the sea, so feeling the smell of salt brought back a wave of nostalgia.

Below him, four of his men sat nearby, tearing into sausages wrapped in bread. One of them looked up, grease still clinging to his fingers.

"Sure you don't want one, sir?" the man asked, lifting the last bit of sausage.

Lucius shook his head without looking down. "No. I'm not hungry."

He heard the word again in his head—sir. It made him chuckle softly.

How absurd. Half a decade ago , he'd been a slave, chained, nameless, scorned by the same class he now belonged to. And yet here he sat, a knight, land under his name, a family coat of arms barely five season old. If this mission went well, his prince promised him more: a proper title, a lordship for his family.

What strange gods twist fate in such ways? But he knew it was no god's responsibility for this, but that of one man.

He let his eyes wander forward, out over the sea. It stretched wide and glimmering beneath the afternoon sun, a great pane of shifting silver and sapphire. White caps rolled lazily against each other, foam like lace along their crests. Gulls circled overhead, crying sharp warnings as they drifted inland.

And then, on the horizon, a dark speck.

Lucius narrowed his eyes.

They had come.

The faint triangle of a sail swelled slowly in the distance, the vessel gliding smoothly along the blue.

His jaw tightened. Right on time, he thought.

He stood slowly, brushing grit from the back of his coat. The others noticed the shift in his posture and paused their chewing.

"No more lounging," Lucius said, still watching the horizon. "Get your gear. We may be working before the hour is out."

Lucius remained a moment longer on the stone with his hands, his eyes locked on the ship as it crept closer, dark against the sunlit sea.

----------

"How is it going, Lamar?" Lucius asked, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stepped forward and embraced the man.

Lamar, thick-shouldered and smelling of salt and soaked timber, returned the gesture with equal warmth. He clapped Lucius hard on the back, letting out a tired chuckle. "As well as a man can be after riding through a storm. Thought the sea would swallow us whole this time."

They parted, and Lucius gave the man a quick once-ove, drenched boots, hair flattened by sea-spray, but standing. Alive.

He was probably the oldest agent in the service of his grace, and he, Marcus ,and Lucius went back since their first assignment with those Herculeian peasants.

"Everything good? No cargo lost?"

"Nothing but sleep," Lamar grunted, running a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Storm came in hard, but the ship held. No dead. No crates overboard. Shit was loud enough to wake the dead though, it was scary"

Lucius nodded, glancing over to where the crew was already hard at work offloading supplies from the ship's belly. The men moved fast, even after a hard voyage. Barrels thudded against dirt, crates of iron and dried goods stacked quickly into organized rows.

"Any pirates?" Lucius asked, casually.

"Yeah," Lamar replied, his lip curling. "Some little rat-boat out past the Cape . Thought they found easy prey." He laughed bitterly and spat on the dirt. "They closed in real smug, until they saw the armor and bows. Then they turned tail. Cowards, the lot of them. Want to steal but can't stomach a fair fight."

Lucius smirked faintly,as it seemed that his friend had picked up on the sailer's mannerism.

He then turned to watch the final crates being rolled down planks. "So what does His Grace have for us this time?"

"The usual," Lamar said, stretching his back with a grunt. "Swords. Armor. Hard bread and smoked meat. Dried herbs, tinctures, poultices. Enough to keep you alive and dangerous another month."

Lucius tilted his head in curiosity. "And what did you bring? Any word from back home?"

He reached into a small satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out a bundle of neatly tied letters. "These are for distribution, one for Ebran, a few others for the forward scouts, and one for my wife." He handed them off. "Make sure they get where they need to."

Lamar tucked them carefully inside the inner lining of his coat. "Of course. And speaking of news…" He paused, a grin forming beneath his mustache. "There's been a birth. The prince is a father again. A daughter this time. The princess bore her healthy, and mother and child are both doing well."

Lucius blinked in surprise, then a soft smile curved on his lips, warmer than before.

"Truly?" he asked.

"Truly. It was announced at court two weeks past. She got the princess' mother name"

Lucius smiled ''That is good news''

"Bah, the prince is overjoyed. Announced grain for the people. The streets in the capital sang for three days.Seems like he already dote on the girl"

Lucius's smile deepened, the image of the great capital rising in his mind, he missed it.

"Deliver my congratulations to His Grace, will you?" Lucius said, sincerely. "And my wife's, if the chance arises. When our child was born, he rode from court to see her, even brought some toys."

"Aye?'' he asked, surprised.

A nod from Lucius sealed the deal.

Honestly, the prince was a mystery to him.

He was the reason Lucius now walked the line between outlaw and noble, the man who had forced him into this shadowy, dangerous life. And yet, despite it all, Lucius couldn't bring himself to hate him. Not even close.

There was something about Alpheo. That commanding presence tempered by disarming charm. He had a way of making you feel seen, even cared for, like your sacrifices were worth something. Like he understood.

And in a world that chewed men up and spat out their bones, that counted for a lot.

Even if that was false...

''We also have news from the royal navy, apparently they finally got a man to bow to'' Lamar started though his tone was certainly not pleased

''Well, three years late, but there is finally one. Any idea who he is?''

''He doesn't got the name, but he is a foreigner, a Romelian dog'' He spat on the floor as if they very idea disgusting, which it did.'' Some knights whose ships plopped down at the bottom at that debacle of Harmway.''

Lucius leaned back slightly, arms folded now, mind churning. "They lost that battle."

"Don't look at me," Lamar said, lifting his palms in mock surrender. "If it were up to me, a Romelian bastard wouldn't be allowed to step foot on one of our ships, let alone command the fleet. Apparently that was the best the prince could fish. It isn't enough that we have gone and escaped from them." He exhaled sharply and added with venom, "Now we've even got to answer to one, once again."

Lucius exhaled quietly through his nose, finding that man's displeasure was much deeper along with the confusion about why the prince had chosen someone like him. He leaned a little against a crate. "So, this is your last run for the day?"

Lamar shook his head and rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. "Afraid not. Still gotta make a second run, south of here"

Lucius raised a brow. "That's no small detour., quite a long way from Aracina"

"Tell me about it," Lamar grumbled. "Would've preferred another ship take that route, or at least some kind of convoy to sail with. The sea's already dangerous on a short haul, on a long one like this, it's asking for trouble."

He pulled a waterskin from his hip and took a swig, then added, "But between the lone-wolf pirates and the Oizenians' pathetic excuse for a navy, I'll manage. It's luck those fuckers haven't got shit worth worrying about on water. I'll slip through."

Lucius nodded, eyes flicking to the horizon again, where the gray shape of Lamar's vessel rocked gently with the waves. "You've always been lucky on the sea. I'm sure you'll make it work."

Lamar smiled tiredly. "Luck's just another kind of skill. The trick is knowing when not to press it."

Lucius extended his hand. "If you see Marcus, send him my greetings."

"Of course," Lamar said, clasping his wrist firmly. "I'll tell him you still breathe, he will be happy to hear that''

Lucius smirked. "He wouldn't believe it otherwise."

With that Lamar turned back just as he was about to step on the wooden plank connecting ship to shore, a glimmer of mischief in his weather-worn eyes.

"Oh—and there's word from the prince, too," he said, almost too casually.

Lucius blinked, pausing as if trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed. "Perhaps," he said dryly, "that should have been among the first things we spoke of."

Lamar shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. The gesture was loose and unbothered, as if to say, What's the harm in saving the best for last?

From within the folds of his coat, he pulled out a small leather pouch. The cords were tied in a knot.

There was of course, nothing to connect it from where it came from.

"Your job's done, mine's nearly done too," Lamar said as he handed them over. "I'll leave the reading to you and the rest to fate."

Lucius took the letters without a word, fingers brushing briefly over it . He tucked them carefully into his coat and looked back at the man who had been a reliable link to the outside world during his two years in mission.

"Safe travels, Lamar," Lucius said, offering his hand. "May your sails stay full and your blades stay clean."

Lamar grinned and took it with a firm grip. "And may the wind bring good word this and next time."

With a final nod between them, Lamar turned and walked toward his ship, his cloak snapping behind him in the ocean wind. Lucius watched until the plank was raised and the sails began to lurch into motion.

He didn't say it out loud, but he always worried when Lamar sailed alone. The man was loud and rough with his mouth, but by the gods was he quick and always on time with the supply he carried.

And as the sails swelled and the ship pulled away from the shore, Lucius silently wished him safe passage, before he turned back to the business at hand.

Namely, at what the prince desired from him.