Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king
Chapter 598: Deepening relations

Chapter 598: Deepening relations

Alpheo was not, in truth, particularly surprised. In fact, if he were honest with himself, he had expected this moment to arrive sooner.

After all, he had made little real effort to hide the fruits of his medical reforms. Field hospitals set up near encampments, rows of soldiers that would come in these tents would come out and live,these were things that no whisper, however hushed, could keep entirely secret.

And besides, he had no intention of refusing. What would be the point?

Refusing would only serve to sour the warm relations his realm had carefully cultivated with Romelia, and Alpheo was no fool. If he said no, it would merely invite the Romelians to find another route—one he would be powerless to stop.

A careless bribe to one of his less-disciplined physicians, a whisper of gold and a ship bound north, and all the secrets of his healers would be laid bare anyway.

No, there was little value in hoarding a secret that, sooner or later, would slip through his fingers like sand. And besides, what good was a monopoly on medicine when true power lay elsewhere—on the fields of politics, trade, and arms?

Thus, Alpheo smiled, setting down his goblet with a soft thud against the polished table, and spoke with all the warmth of a man offering an unexpected gift.

"It would be my pleasure," he said, voice rich and sure. "As you have have already lent your engineers to aid our noble works, so too shall we gladly send some of our physicians to teach what they know. Consider it," he added with a slight, easy tilt of his head, "a small gesture of gratitude for the favors we have been so kindly granted."

Dorian’s face broke into a broad, almost boyish smile as he leaned forward, hand resting over his heart in a show of sincere appreciation. "You honor us with your generosity, your Grace," he said, his words smooth but with a genuine undertone.

Alpheo gave a modest shrug, the very picture of humble nobility. "Think nothing of it. It is a pleasure to pay back the debts of friendship—especially to those who remembered us when others turned their backs."

The mood in the room lightened palpably, and for a moment, it felt less like a meeting between sovereign and envoy, and more like a conversation between two old comrades though in truth this was their second meeting, and neither knew anything of the other.

Dorian leaned back comfortably in his chair, swirling the wine in his goblet as though weighing his next words. With an arched brow and a sly smile, he asked, "And tell me, your Grace... has Pontus been to your expectations? I know very well about his.... peculiarities"

At the name, Alpheo allowed himself a brief, genuine chuckle, the sort that spoke of many lively memories compressed into a single breath. He set his cup down, folding his hands leisurely before him.

"Pontus," Alpheo began, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, "is sharp, no question about it. A mind as keen as a newly forged sword—and almost as quick to cut, if truth be told. His knowledge is deep, and he carries it about like a king wears a crown: visible from the moment he steps into a room. He was very useful for the many infrastructural projects I started and had been of great use in the siege of Arduronaven"

He leaned forward a little, his voice lowering into the easy rhythm of someone enjoying a good story. "He’s arrogant, yes, and makes no effort to hide it. He wears his education like a second cloak, thick and weighty. But I have learned not to mind such quirks, provided the man’s worth matches his pride—and in Pontus’s case, it does."

Alpheo lifted his cup again, tapping the rim lightly with a finger as he continued, "It was he after all who projected the aqueduct—an undertaking that not only rejuvenated the city’s life but delighted Pontus to no end. I daresay, it’s a rare sight, seeing a man grin like a child at the sight of flowing water."

Dorian chuckled, but Alpheo pressed on with a glint in his eye. "Truly, it seems that giving Pontus projects to tackle is the surest way to sweeten his temperament.

He is positively radiant these days, now that he knows that in due time be overseeing the sewer system as well. I half expect he’ll write songs about drainage and runoff before the year is out.It certainly warmed my heart to see such diligence in him.

Especially since we lack such highly skilled men."

Dorian shook his head, laughing, and lifted his goblet slightly in a mock toast. "For any roughness in his manner, I offer my apologies, your Grace. Pontus can be... rather unvarnished in his dealings."

Alpheo waved a hand dismissively, taking a long, appreciative sip of his wine. "I do not mind such roughness when the man delivers as he does. If every arrogant man built as Pontus does, I would surround myself with a court of nothing but braggarts."

Both men laughed at that, a sound that warmed the richly decorated chamber more than any hearthfire could.

Still smiling, Dorian reached for the wine pitcher and refilled both their goblets with a flourish, raising his drink high. "Then let us drink," he declared grandly, "to Pontus—and to the sewer that shall make Yarzat not only shine but smell sweet! May the South look upon you, your Grace, and marvel at your ingenuity!"

Alpheo lifted his goblet to meet Dorian’s with a satisfying chime, his smile widening at the good-natured jest. "May the waters run clear and the streets be sweeter than the gardens of Romelia themselves!" he replied, the words flowing smooth and rich as the wine itself.

They drank, and for a few precious moments, the room was filled not with negotiations or veiled intentions, but with an honest sense of camaraderie and a shared hope for what their alliance might bring.

Alpheo leaned back, feeling the pleasant heat of wine in his blood and the rare, easy pleasure of good company. In his mind, he could already see it: a Yarzat not merely surviving but thriving—a beacon of prosperity and pride in a South.

And if a sewer and an aqueduct were part of that vision... well, greatness was often built on foundations no one thought to praise.

Still all that warmth was about to be blown away.

The Romelian envoy set down his goblet with a soft clink, his fingers drumming thoughtfully along the table’s polished edge. His face, usually quick to smile, had now taken on a more careful, measured expression.

"Your Grace," he began, voice steady, "there is no denying it. Both our peoples have greatly benefited from the ties we have woven together these past years. Trade flows like a mighty river, and both our treasuries are brimming richer than any spring harvest."

Alpheo, seated with an easy elegance that only came after too many battles and far too many hard decisions, gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Indeed," he agreed warmly, the smile never leaving his lips. "Few are the seeds that yield so fine a bounty."

Dorian leaned forward slightly, as if about to reveal a secret. "And so, since such fortune has sprung from our cooperation, perhaps—" he let the word linger like perfume in the air, "—it is high time that both our sides take another step toward each other."

Alpheo’s eyebrows lifted in polite curiosity, his mind immediately stirring beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. Another step? he mused internally.

For all the success their relations had brought, he still ruled a modest princedom nestled in a corner of the continent, whereas Dorian represented the vast and sprawling might of Romelia’s . What more could the giant of the East want from a garden it already grazed freely? What more could a mere peasant prince offer that they did not already, quietly, own?

He crossed one leg over the other and, with a smoothness that belied the curiosity gnawing at the edges of his mind, said, "You will find me all ears. I am eager to hear what proposal you bring to our table."

Dorian smiled thinly at that, the look of a man about to unveil a carefully sculpted statue hidden beneath a veil.

Something was coming.

Something bigger than sewers, bigger than physicians, bigger perhaps even than that trade that filled both men with silver and gold.

And judging by Dorian’s deliberate slowness in revealing it, it was something meant to change the stakes entirely.

"I propose," he said, lifting his goblet slightly as if toasting the very notion, "an alliance between Romelia and Yarzat. Formal, binding, blessed by trade, blood, and steel alike."

The words struck the room like a hammer blow.

Alpheo blinked once. Then twice. For a half-second, a flicker of pure confusion—no, awe—darted across his face.

He staggered....

An alliance? His mind reeled. What foolishness is this?

Yet suspicion, sharp and cold, rushed in right behind. His instincts, shrieked at him. Nothing so grand would come without its thorns hidden deep beneath the petals.

Still, Alpheo was no fool, and he reined himself in with a swallow so discreet it could have passed for a breath. His face returned to its princely stillness, his eyes calm, almost unreadable. He set down his cup carefully and inclined his head.

"Such a...great undertaking," he said slowly, "is not one I may decree alone. It must be decided by her grace, I am after all the Prince-Consort."

Dorian burst into a deep, rich laugh, patting his own chest as if Alpheo had just told a very fine joke, as they both knew who had the real power.

"But of course! Of course! I would expect no less from a man of sense." His voice lowered into something closer to a purr. "Yet, since it was you who helped sow the first seeds of this most fruitful garden, it is only right that you should know of its possible flowering before any others."

Alpheo managed a tight smile. "You honor me with your thoughtfulness," he said, voice smooth as silk. "I will make sure the matter is raised to the Princess with all the seriousness it deserves."

He stood then, his chair scraping gently back. "You have given me much to ponder, sir Dorian,now if you’’ll excuse me. " he said as the envoy rose alongside him and personally walked him to the great double doors of the chamber.

A few instants later he was out of the room and out of sight.

As soon as the door closed, his lips all but vanished into a hard, bloodless line. His mouth twisted into a faint sneer, as if he had just bitten into something rotten — or, more aptly, tasted the bitterness of a honeyed poison.

An alliance, he thought grimly. A golden apple...so ripe, so shining...and so deadly.

He walked down the marble corridor, his mind already racing ahead. The smile he wore inside Dorian’s halls was gone, stripped away like a mask after a play.

Now only a cold feeling remained — the mind of a prince who knew that he was offered a noose in the guise of an hand.