Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 429: Dining(2)

Chapter 429: Dining(2)

Alpheo leaned back in his chair, the flickering candlelight painting his face in soft, shifting shadows. He looked every bit the seasoned storyteller, his voice smooth and deliberate, each word honed to perfection. If his sword arm was unremarkable, his tongue was a blade of its own—razor-sharp and impossible to ignore.

"The Battle of the Bleeding Plains," he began, his tone low and measured, "was a day the gods themselves might have wept to witness." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The enemy outnumbered us two to one. Their banners stretched across the horizon like a storm cloud, their spears glinting like teeth. ''

Torghan sat across from him, his food forgotten, his eyes wide and unblinking.

Alpheo's voice grew quieter, drawing Torghan in like a moth to flame. "I spent weeks preparing. But when the battle began, none of it mattered. They came like a flood, and we were the dam. For hours, the field ran red. Men fell like wheat before the scythe, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat."

He leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "And then, just when it seemed all was lost, Egil arrived." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You should have seen it. His cavalry thundered across the plains like a force of nature, their lances gleaming, their war cries shaking the earth. The army broke. They ran. And the day was ours."

Torghan's breath caught. He could almost see it—the clash of steel, the roar of men, the ground churned to mud underfoot. His heart raced as if he were there himself, standing shoulder to shoulder with Alpheo's warriors.

But as the story unfolded, something shifted in Torghan's chest.

Admiration curdled into envy, sharp and bitter. Here was Alpheo, a man who had started with nothing, now dining with god:s food and carving his name into history.