Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 407: Romelian preparations

Chapter 407: Romelian preparations

The docks outside the Romelian camp had been alive as it hadn't been in weeks.

A congregation of furious merchants, their silk coats embroidered with gold thread and their plumed hats bobbing with each angry gesture, swarmed before a small maniple of imperial soldiers. The air was thick with the scent of salt, tar, and sweat, but most of all, with outrage.

"This is theft!" one merchant bellowed, his face red as the velvet of his doublet. He stomped forward, waving a parchment in the air. "We came here under imperial sanction, with legal writs signed and sealed! These ships are not war vessels, they are grain carriers! You have no right—"

"No right indeed!" another shouted, his many chins wobbling with the force of his indignation. "We risk pirates, storms,between here and the capital, and now you would commandeer our ships as if we were your lackeys?!"

"This is tyranny! Lawless tyranny!" cried a third, his bejeweled hands clenched into trembling fists. "If you take our ships, what are we to do? Swim back home? Do you even intend to compensate us?"

The soldiers standing opposite them shifted uncomfortably. Their faces, lined with exhaustion, remained stony, but beneath their polished breastplates, their patience was wearing thin. The fat merchants jostled and flailed as they ranted, their rolls of flesh quivering with each indignant movement.

One of the soldiers, a thick-necked veteran with a scar running down his cheek, clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth ached. He tightened his grip on the pommel of his sword, the leather creaking under his fingers. The merchants were shouting directly into his face now, spittle flying, their perfume mixing nauseatingly with the stench of their sweat.

"By the gods, do they ever stop talking?" he muttered under his breath.

Beside him, another soldier, younger and still unused to such displays, forced himself to inhale deeply through his nose. His fingers twitched near the haft of his spear, every instinct screaming to shove the nearest merchant back and be done with it. But he dared not. Not yet.