Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 145: Organizing the battle plan

Agalosios knelt beside the table, carefully unwrapping the bandages around Alpheo's hand. The tent was filled with the sound of cloth being unwound, and soon the wound was exposed. The physician leaned in closer, examining it with a practiced eye. The flesh was red, but not overly so, and the stitches held the cut together tightly.

"There's no sign of infection," Agalosios said, his voice calm but steady. "The scab is starting to form around the stitches, which is a good sign."

He looked up briefly from his work and asked, "Any fever in the past day or so?" His hand moved to Alpheo's forehead, checking for any sign of heat.

Alpheo shook his head. "No fever. Just pain," he replied with a grunt, keeping his voice steady, though the pain was obvious in his expression.

Agalosios nodded, a faint smile forming on his lips as he withdrew his hand. "Good, good. Everything looks like it's healing as expected. Keep it clean, and the pain should ease in time.I will increase the amount of willow bark tea"

Around the tent, the tension seemed to ease. The officers who had gathered for the meeting exchanged glances, their expressions visibly more relaxed.

"See?" Alpheo muttered dryly. "Still too stubborn to die." The comment drew a few chuckles from the men.

Agalosios finished rebandaging the hand, rising to his feet with a satisfied nod. "I'll keep an eye on it, but as long as you don't do anything foolish, you'll be back to full strength soon enough."

Alpheo turned to face the others gathered in his tent, waving his hand toward Agalosios. "You can leave, Agalosios. You've done well," he said, his voice clipped but appreciative. Agalosios nodded and quietly left the room, slipping past Shahab, who had just entered the tent.

The room was now full, and Shahab, the last to arrive, stood near the entrance. The tent was simple but large, serving as both Alpheo's sleeping quarters and his command center. Maps were spread across the table, various documents stacked beside them, while a rough bed lay in the corner, barely used. The air was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and faint traces of wine from last night.

''You seems to be drinking more ...''Shahab noted as he saw the empty urns near the bed

''You would too with this bloody hand'' Alpheo answered before changing topic "News about the camp construction?" he asked, his eyes sweeping across the gathered men.

Jarza, standing at the far end , stepped forward. "We managed to finish it this early morning," he reported, his voice calm but carrying a hint of pride. "The men worked through the night, and it's all in place now."

Alpheo nodded, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes. He had pushed his men hard, and they had delivered. Three days to complete the camp was an excellent result, even better than he had hoped.

"Three days," Alpheo mused aloud, more to himself than to anyone else. "An extremely positive result." His hand, still bandaged, rested lightly on the table, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel a small measure of relief. The camp was ready, the foundation laid for what would come next.

"Well done," he added, a note of approval in his voice.

Alpheo shifted his focus, leaning back slightly in his chair as he glanced at Egil. "What about our supply situation?" he asked, his voice steady but expectant. He knew that with the camp finished, sustaining the army was now the next most important issue

Egil stepped forward, his expression serious. "My men have been coming back from foraging with positive results every day," he began. "We've managed to gather enough food and provisions to keep us going for now. But," he paused, his brow furrowing, "I estimate that in half a week or so, we won't be able to sustain ourselves from the countryside any longer. We've already emptied most of the nearby villages, and the rest are either deserted or picked clean.Since you have ordered not to push the village to the point of starvation..."

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Before he could speak, Shahab chimed in from the side of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. "It matters not," Shahab said, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. "The royal fiefs will be contribuiting for the supply . And Lord Damaris promised to send additional provisions. We won't be left starving out here."

Alpheo nodded, his eyes meeting Shahab's. "Good," he said simply.

Shahab uncrossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "It's time to actually plan on taking the city," he said, his voice calm but firm. "We should immediately begin constructing ladders and siege towers. The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare. We need to press our advantage."

Alpheo raised a hand, shaking his head. "Storming the city should be our last contingency," he replied.

Shahab's expression tightened. "And what? You hope the walls will open themselves?" he asked, frustration creeping into his tone. "Or worse, you plan to starve them out? Must I remind you of the state of our coffers?"

Alpheo chuckled darkly and leaned back in his chair. "No," he said, "neither . But tell me, what is the thing that kills most during sieges?"

Egil, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "Hunger… or death by storming the walls, I'd say."

Alpheo laughed, shaking his head again. "You've never participated in a long siege, have you?" he said, glancing at Egil with a knowing smile after all he was part of a mounted tribe , and they were mostly used for raiding or flanking manuevers during battles by the Emperor.

"The thing that claims the most lives during a siege isn't hunger or the swords of defenders. It's sickness. Epidemics spread like wildfire when you trap people together with limited resources."

He turned back to Shahab, his voice calm but confident. "Remember the feast where we talked about soap? That wasn't just some sales pitch or idle conversation. I was truthful. Cleanliness is our best weapon here. Sickness will fall upon that city soon enough, while our men—if they remain obedient to my directions—will be spared.I have not brought all those soaps to overexceed in baths....those are for the men.Before each meal, they will be forced to wash hands and faces.Forcing them to bath at least once a week''

Shahab scoffed, shaking his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Even if all that bullshit you told were true ," he said sharply not believing all the things he had said when he present soap to them "the castle won't fall just because some peasants start coughing up blood or die while shitting themselves. Disease weakens, sure, but it won't bring down stone walls or open gates."

Alpheo leaned back, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he let Shahab's words hang in the air. After a moment, he nodded. "You're right," he said, almost casually. "Disease alone won't topple the city. That's why the main assault won't be from above." He raised his hand and then pointed to the ground beneath their feet, his eyes gleaming with the hint of a plan.

"It will come from below."

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Alpheo's camp was a reflection of his meticulous nature, a carefully planned military installation that exuded order and discipline. Every detail was deliberate, from the roads to the placement of tents. Two main roads, wide enough for wagons and soldiers alike, intersected at the center of the camp, forming a perfect cross that divided the encampment into four neat quadrants.

Two of those quadrants were bustling with the activity of soldiers. Rows upon rows of tents stretched out, each aligned with precision. The soldiers lived here, their daily routines flowing like clockwork. Everything had a place—whether it was a weapons rack or a makeshift fire pit—and every man knew his role in maintaining the order.

The other two quadrants, however, were left vacant, waiting for the reinforcements that would soon swell their ranks. Alpheo had planned ahead, ensuring there would be no scramble for space when the new arrivals came. These areas were barren for now, but ready to host fresh tents and equipment.

Beyond the boundaries of the camp, Alpheo had designated a section for more unpleasant necessities. The latrines were situated far from where the men slept or ate, a move to prevent contamination. Numerous pits had been dug there, with soldiers using them for their work and then covering them with dirt once they were filled. This rotation ensured that waste didn't fester and no disease would take root in the camp—a silent but crucial defense against the scourge of epidemics that so often followed large armies.

Alpheo rode slowly down the main road of the camp, his eyes scanning the orderly lines of tents and the bustling activity around him. Beside him, Asag, kept pace on horseback, delivering his report with a steady tone.

"The mining operations are progressing well" he began, glancing briefly at Alpheo before continuing. "Last night , we dag small, concealed camps to mask the work. Wide enough for the dirt to be distributed around the perimeter, and then, under the cover of darkness, we transport it far from the walls to ensure the enemy doesn't catch wind of what's happening. So far, there's been no sign that they've realized anything. We're keeping the activity low, discreet. No movement during the day except the laborers digging ."

Alpheo nodded, satisfied. The deception was essential, and Asag's men were handling it well.

"And the siege engines?" Alpheo asked, his voice calm but curious.

"The ladders and siege towers are being constructed as you ordered, my lord. '' Asag said with in an ironic tone, which caused Alpheo to chuckle a bit.To make sure that the enemy was not suspicious of the quiet, he had ordered for their constructions.The ladders and battering rams were most for show, while instead the siege tower were something Alpheo planned to use to make his archers shoot taller than the enemy and rain arrows down on them in order to cripple their numbers.

Above all however, Alpheo knew well that without the royal engineers gifted to him by Jasmine, his plans would never have progressed so smoothly. His band of men, as skilled and disciplined as they were, lacked the specialized knowledge required to build such sophisticated war machines. He thought back to the day Jasmine had sent the engineers, knowing full well they would be vital. Without them, Alpheo would've been forced to rely entirely on brute force and numbers—a riskier strategy that could have cost him far more men, something that he ought to have kissed Jasmine for...

"Without them, we'd be hacking at stone like fools," Alpheo muttered, half to himself.

Alpheo turned his head slightly toward Asag, his brow furrowed in thought. "What are the men up to now that the grueling work is being handled by the laborers?" he asked.

Asag shrugged, his shoulders lifting beneath his armor as he kept his gaze forward. "Better to ask Jarza for the full picture, but from what I know," Asag began, his voice carrying a tone of mild indifference, "apart from some who are cutting trees for supplies or going out on foraging runs, most are killing time. Standing on guard, training, keeping themselves sharp."

Alpheo nodded, absorbing the information. There was only so much to be done in the waiting game of siege warfare. With the most exhausting tasks now delegated to the laborers and the engineers handling the technical side, most of his soldiers had little to occupy their time. Guard duty, drills, and maintaining the camp's discipline were all that remained until the next phase of their plan.

Not much else for them to do, I suppose, Alpheo mused.

Asag remained silent, knowing well that their commander had considered every angle of the siege.

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It was the seventh day since the siege had begun, and the promised supplies from Lord Damaris had finally arrived on the late morning .He had watched as carts loaded with provisions and materials rolled steadily into the camp, their arrival accompanied by the clattering of wheels and the murmur of soldiers. Along with the supplies came word of the reinforcements—troops that would bolster their numbers—who were expected to reach them by the end of the day.

To ensure a proper welcome and to solidify the discipline within the camp, Alpheo decided he would personally greet the arriving soldiers, alongside Lord Shahab.

With a critical phase of the siege nearing, he couldn't afford to let any disorder creep in, especially with new blood entering the fold.

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As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Alpheo stood near the camp's entrance, Lord Shahab beside him. The air was warm, carrying the scent of the nearby woods and the dust kicked up by the arriving carts. Alpheo's eyes scanned the horizon, watching for the first sign of the incoming reinforcements. When the soldiers finally appeared, a long column snaking its way toward the camp, Alpheo straightened his posture.

Alpheo stood watch as 300 soldiers marched closer, the banner of lord Damaris fluttering wildly in the wind. Alpheo remembered that Lord Damaris had mentioned his son would be leading this contingent—his first command. Shahab had later informed him that Damaris' son was barely fifteen, still untested in battle, and fresh to the art of war.

Barely a youngster, the sixteen years old-looking Alpheo thought as the army reached closer.

Ahead of the main force, a dozen riders moved forward, separating from the marching troops. Alpheo's sharp eye quickly noticed the shortest among them riding at the front, leading the group with noticeable authority. As they closed the distance, the riders came to a halt in front of Alpheo, their armor gleaming under the fading sunlight. The youngest rider, clearly in command, dismounted with a practiced ease that belied his age.

Alpheo nudged his horse forward, raising his hand in greeting.

"I am Alpheo, commander of the royal army, sent by her grace, Jasmine, to put an end to this rebellion. You ride under Lord Damaris' banner, so I assume you bring aid in his name."

The youth at the front stepped forward, pulling off his helmet. A mop of short blonde hair fell around a face that was striking in its youthfulness. His cheeks were still soft, unmarked by the trials of battle, but his blue eyes carried a determination that Alpheo found surprising for someone of his age.

"I am Leomar," the boy said with a steady voice, meeting Alpheo's gaze. "Son of Lord Damaris, and I come at my father's command to lead these men in your service, Sir.I am pleased to make your acquantaince" as he said so he turned toward Shahab'' It is a pleasure to meet you too again, lord Shahab''

''Likewise young lord'' Shahb said briefly before staying put

Leomar's gaze shifted downward as he noticed the bandaged hand of Alpheo, the fresh linen still stained with faint traces of blood.

"Your hand, Commander..." Leomar pointed, his voice cautious. "I trust everything is well?"

Alpheo smirked, raising the wounded hand slightly as if to dismiss the injury. "Ah, this?" he said with a casual shrug. "During a parlay, the enemy commander thought he could end the rebellion in victory by slipping a dagger into my throat. Luckily for me, I stopped him, and he only got this " He said while waving his hand

Leomar's eyes widened further, the shock of such dishonorable behavior evident on his face. A parlay was sacred and attacking during one was a grave breach of conduct.

"The coward tried to kill you during a truce?" Leomar asked, almost incredulous.

Alpheo chuckled, his smile widening as if amused by the boy's reaction. "Indeed, but he's no longer a problem. He was quartered alive in front of his men for the offense." His voice remained calm, almost casual, but the weight of his words sent a chill through the air.

Leomar swallowed, the shock still evident in his eyes. He glanced at Alpheo, taking in the young man who looked nearly his own age and yet a ruthless commander, something that made the two exude a completely different air around them.

Before the conversation could deepen, Shahab interjected with a raised hand and a pointed look toward Alpheo and Leomar. His voice was calm but firm. "Perhaps such matters are best discussed in private, Commander," he said, glancing between the two young leaders. "The army can begin setting up camp in the designated area."

Alpheo nodded absently, his thoughts still lingering on the exchange. He turned toward Leomar, gesturing with his good hand. "You're right, Shahab. Please my lord, come with me." His voice was casual as if he was having a friendly walk

Leomar, still processing what happened during such a short siege , nodded in silent agreement, signaling to the riders behind him. The young lord spurred his horse, following Alpheo as the rest of his men began to break off and set up camp, their tents filling the area marked for them.