Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king Chapter 228: Day of revelation

Alpheo sat tall on his horse, gazing up at the clear morning sky with a quiet, simring anticipation. The day had finally co, the long-expected battle on the horizon. The scouts had brought word that the Herculian army was closing in, now only half a dozen kiloters out. By Alpheo's asure, they would arrive by early afternoon, perhaps even sooner.

He turned his gaze from the sky down to his army, spread across the camps, now bustling with activity as the soldiers gathered their arms and secured their marching formations. The rhythm of preparation—the sound of armor clinking, of horses shifting, of quiet commands being barked to ready the ranks—filled the air. Alpheo felt a steady pulse of determination rise within him. Every step they'd taken, every night spent under the stars, every stone cast against the walls of Arduronaven had led to this day. It was finally ti to face their enemy head-on.

From the mont he arrived at Arduronaven, Alpheo had carefully studied the surrounding terrain, scouting every detail to gain an edge. The land stretched out flat in all directions—a feature that brought him both frustration and a certain satisfaction. The open, level ground would suit his strategy well, allowing him to execute his plans without the obstacles of hills or dense cover. But the sa terrain also worked to the enemy's advantage, as it was ideal for a strong cavalry charge while also allowing the enemy to stretch his forces and overwhelm Alpheo's. Alpheo knew very well who held the advantage here.

He had received troubling reports from his scouts: the Herculian army advancing toward them was estimated at 3,300 soldiers, outnumbering his own force of 2,200 by a significant margin. Worse still, he couldn't rely on the full strength of his army; he'd been forced to station at least 300 n in the eastern camp to guard against any surprise sortie from the garrison within Arduronaven. He had no doubt that Vroghios would attempt a breakout once the main Herculian army arrived to divide Alpheo's attention. Which left him with only 1,900 soldiers to face the incoming force,sothing that made intimidated Alpheo quite a bit as he was outnumbered nearly two for each of his own man.

As Alpheo scanned the gathering army, he noticed Lord Xanthios moving toward him, a slight frown visible even from a distance. Recognizing the need to address any misgivings before the battle, Alpheo spurred his horse forward to et him.

Xanthios wasn't pleased about being assigned to guard the rear—a decision he clearly found beneath his station. Alpheo had anticipated this reaction, though, and had spent ti cultivating Xanthios's support. He emphasized the essential role Xanthios would play in maintaining the army's strength and security, reinforcing how critical his position was to ensuring they could maneuver and fight effectively. Additionally, Alpheo reassured him that by the campaign's end, his loyalty and contributions wouldn't go unrewarded.

But Alpheo knew Xanthios's deepest concern went beyond re prestige; it was a matter of achievents. As it was generally considered the way to get the highest achievent by simply fight at the side of his liege, sharing in the glory and dangers of the front lines, of course Alpheo saw it completely different. This role, he worried, seed to minimize his contribution. Alpheo took care to dispel any such thoughts, making it clear that his trust in Xanthios's leadership was precisely why he needed him in this crucial position. And that he had no such bias, as what he cared about were actual deeds, sothing that Xanthios would surely co into as he would most certainly fight against the city's sortie.

Lord Xanthios gave Alpheo a firm nod, his earlier reluctance softened by Alpheo's reassurances. "May the gods be with you , Your Grace"

Alpheo returned the nod with a slight smile. "I shall entrust our backs to you.."

With a deep breath, Alpheo turned to face the rest of the assembled commanders and soldiers, his voice rising above the quiet rumble of anticipation. "Prepare to march!" he commanded, his voice steady as he assud his 'General' voice.

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The soldiers marched in disciplined lines across the open plains, their rhythmic steps pounding steadily beneath the morning sun. Alpheo glanced to his right and noticed Egil, riding with a grin that was practically spilling over his face. It wasn't rare to see him so openly cheerful, yet he seed much more gleeful than usual and Alpheo's curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you so pleased about, Egil?" Alpheo asked, a faint smirk crossing his lips.

Egil gave him a mischievous look. "It's been like old tis" he replied, his voice thick with nostalgia. "For two weeks, I've had the freedom to raid and ambush—just as I did when I rode with my tribesn." He laughed, a sound raw with satisfaction. "They camped out there without any real defenses—just tents sprawled across the ground, few watchn, not even stakes in the dirt."

Alpheo's mind flickered over the past two weeks , while his had passed rather calmly , Egil's must have been weeks of bloodshed. He'd assigned Egil to harass the enemy's smaller forces as they moved toward the capital to assemble the royal army , and he'd chosen well. Egil had seized the opportunity with ruthless precision, ambushing troops who camped carelessly, unprepared for the wrath of his n. Without fail, he struck under cover of night,burning tents , cutting n down as they slept, and causing entire divisions of soldiers to desert into the night, exploiting their lack of defenses to the fullest, as no one would ever think that a general , whose force were even outnumbered, would let his own forces be so detached from the main contigent..

"In just two weeks," Egil continued, his voice full of triumph, "we cut down numbers nearly four tis the size of my n. They had no chance."

Alpheo gave a satisfied nod. "Well done" he said approvingly, as without him he would have had to fight an even bigger force than the one today ''Effective as always''

Egil, eyes gleaming with excitent, leaned closer to Alpheo as they rode . "My prince, if you'll allow it," he began eagerly with an overly solemn tone that clearly made the both of them chuckle. , "I'd like to break off with my n and give those bastards marching toward us a reminder of what we're capable of. Hit them hard before they even see us on the battlefield."

Alpheo smiled, appreciating Egil's enthusiasm. "I admire your zeal, Egil," he replied, "but not this ti. I want them to arrive exhausted, desperate to catch their breath; if you attack them you will slow their march, making perhaps the enemy prince decide to rest for the night. I want them to reach us after a long march , I want them to arrive in one piece—but drained and hungry.Which they will be at their current pace"

Alpheo then gestured toward their own ranks. "I had the n eat a solid breakfast this morning, at , kindly provided by you and your n , alongside sothing hearty enough to sustain them for the day. They've each got a bit of rations for a quick bite in the afternoon if we're still on the field by then."

Egil nodded, understanding the strategy, though his face still showed a hint of disappointnt. "Well-rested and well-fed against tired and hungry," Alpheo said confidently. "An army marches on his stomach, and our soldier will fight with a full one also. ''

With a final nod of understanding, Egil settled back into line, completely agreeing with what he said as he always believed that an hungry soldiers was a weak and unruly one .

And so he prepared himself for the battle that lay ahead, excited at the prospect of riding onto the field with an axe in hand, sothing that never failed in making his blood boil.

Differently from his knight , behind his steady gaze and commanding presence, Alpheo fought a current of worry beneath his calm exterior. His own n were seasoned veterans, soldiers who had fought by his side through skirmishes and sieges. He knew he could rely on their skill and discipline. But the other half of his forces—hastily conscripted levies from lords who barely believed in the campaign themselves—were another matter.

These were n who had just barely learned the weight of their armor, who could still be thrown off by the unexpected recoil of a sword or the weight of a shield. The last-minute drills they'd endured were more of an introduction than real training, and Alpheo was painfully aware that for many, this would be their first real taste of battle. He had done what he could: supplied them with better weapons, inspected their armor, urged them on with confident words. But those things only went so far.

In the quiet of his thoughts, Alpheo couldn't ignore the facts: These n aren't ready. He kept his expression steady, his eyes sweeping over the army as they assembled, but inwardly, doubt stirred.

Still, he could only press forward. He had made his decision, and now it was up to his n to et it.

As one way or another this day would decide the outco of his reign , be it to be destined for greatness or to stagnate in the mud.