Chapter 953: Barred roads(4)

This was Alpheo’s first time where he had met a person who seemed to truly embody the spirit of

decorum

.

Most of the men Alpheo had dealt with had always seemed to put themselves on high guard against the

peasant who made himself prince

, who also carried the well-earned moniker of killing nobles on certain occasions.

This reputation,luckily, was not as bad as it could have normally been, considering that the nobles he had executed were either proven traitors to the crown or were instead butchered by his subordinates during the heat of battle....as was the unfortunate case of

Aracina

.

So, in a certain sense, his reputation was as

white

as a peasant-made ruler’s could be. Unfortunately, the many wars he had led and won, along with the breakneck expansion of his state, meant that his diplomatic standing would forever be tainted, even ten years along the run.

He would probably have to work on that urgently.

He had meant to do so long before; unfortunately, the recent campaign had completely messed up whatever diplomatic maneuvers he had planned, which mostly would have entailed mending deeper relations with

Sharjaan

, whose relationship with Yarzat could be defined as cautiously

’warm’

. Both of them earned heavily from their shared ownership of the crucial mines, which meant that unless a major event threatened that mutual profit, Alpheo only needed to keep a few watchful eyes on the Prince of

Sharjaan

.

He wanted to expand on that , and improve their cooperation, or at the very least make sure that in case of a conflict between Yarzat and an Ozenian-led league, he would remain neutral in that conflict...having him as an ally would be good, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that could have been possible with the current circumstances, his neutrality would be a good enough prize.

Returning to the situation at hand,

Alpheo’s

fearsome fame meant that all men who interacted with him would instantly raise a wall of self-protection. This was especially true of captured lords, who, even at the Prince’s mercy, would still retain that

inner, brittle pride

that came from descending from an old bloodline, as if their lineage wasn’t already as weak as watered wine and worth less than the

piss

Alpheo ejected early in the morning.

For these reasons, he was profoundly surprised when the Marshal of the traitor’s forces, Lord Willios, who had most certainly heard about the execution of the other nobles, many of whom were his subordinates, looked as if there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with his current situation or that death did not loom over his head like a vulture.

He sipped delicately from the cup of wine made available to him during his tenure, adhering perfectly to proper etiquette as a

guest

.

He rose from his seat, bowing deeply to the man with the higher title, before exchanging normal greetings with Alpheo’s party, giving a purposeful, respect-filled greeting to his vanquisher. The two, despite the recent violence, seemed to have hit it off.

After that, Willios sat back in his seat and waited. He no longer touched his cup until Alpheo held his own and stood straight-backed against his chair, patiently watching for the other party to state their business.

There wasn’t a single tell, not a twitch or a nervous glance, that hinted at the fact that the man was a prisoner of people who had every conceivable reason to

carve the meat from his bones

, simply for the concept of implicated correlation.

Still, taking Edric’s suggestion to heart, Alpheo made no move to remark on the bizarre dynamics of the situation. He instead assumed the mask of the respectful host.

"I hope you have found everything to be at your liking?" he asked in a respectful voice, as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table from the Marshal.

"I have no complaint to make, Your Grace. Considering the situation, I have been shown only goodwill by your party, far more than I could have expected to receive, especially hearing about the others’ cases." Willios paused, his expression calm. "Still, that was to be expected. In civil war, it is known that a blade moves even more eagerly than against a foreigner. I do wonder why, though, there is more thirst for blood when dealing with people you’d have called brother once."

Alpheo sipped from his cup of wine, fighting back the urge to completely drain it. The wine was strong, a local vintage, and he needed the clarity. Willios noted the action and, adhering to the host-guest dynamic, initiated his own drink.

"If I were to hazard an answer, I suppose it’d be that every civil war feels like a

betrayal

,"

Alpheo

explained, maintaining a tone of detached philosophy. "And while there may be respect between two distant enemies, what cordiality could there ever be between a betrayer and his betrayed?"

Alpheo was careful, hiding his contempt for the subject of the conversation. He bit back the remark that whatever they were doing to the traitorous rebels would pale in comparison to what

Willios’s

liege

,

Mavius

, would have done to them if the situations were reversed.

Something that apparently did not pass unnoticed to the Marshal.

"Slights are, but the nurturer of contempt, and civil wars are filled with those, aren’t they your Grace?"

Willios

replied, looking straight at Alpheo as if he could read the unsaid thoughts behind the Prince’s eyes.

Alpheo knew exactly what he meant.

The letter they had sent was indeed a truly nasty, gratuitous move they had made at the start of the campaign to bait Mavius into a pitched battle.

A sharp pang of pain went through Alpheo as he remembered the joyous,

feral smile

Egil

had when voicing out all the nastiness his brilliant mind could conjure, so much so that Alpheo and Jarza found themselves omitting some of the more obscene suggestions themselves.

An ache came to his chest, sharp and cold, as he realized he would never see that smile, full of mischief and dark wit, again.

"As much hate one may harbor for another, Your Grace, I would like to express my respect for your person." Willios continued, his voice steady, devoid of flattery. "I believe my liege would have been sitting on the Eternal City by now if it weren’t for your singular presence. I would have thought that nothing would have beaten the marvelous display your troops gave in the field and I hope you will not see these words as empty praise. As an enemy, I could not help but be

awed

by their discipline. I was leading the flank that should have broken through yours, and instead, the opposite happened."

He paused, a flicker of something in his eyes. "That, however, too was proven wrong in these last weeks."

He didn’t need to elaborate; the silence did its part.

Alpheo had, after all, single-handedly brought down a castle that was thought unconquerable by pure military might. Willios himself readily recognized that his own successful subjugation of the castle nine years ago was accomplished through

treachery

, the only reason a small detachment had made it through being a bribed knight holding a tower. This victory, however, was forged in blood and steel.

And a martial man like him couldn’t help but voice that out.

"I would have liked to also pay my respect to one of your brave men who brought victory to your camp," Willios said, the atmosphere shifting. "It is unfortunate that I cannot. I do say this honestly."

A harsh set of teeth bashing against one another echoed sharply from the back of the tent. Alpheo turned his head, giving a meaningful, warning look at Rykyo, who was midway through an attempt to calm his boiling rage. Edric quickly tugged the man’s iron sleeve, his own gaze fixed on the Marshal.

"I apologize for it," Willios said in a respectful tone, unbothered by the hostility but recognising that he was trudgin in muddy water. "It was not my intention to bring out bad memories. I truly respect him.

It is rare for a man to have such conviction.

"

"He was a man in a million, and I was blessed to have had the opportunity to call him friend," Alpheo replied.

Willios closed his eyes and gave a small, respectful, bow.

Alpheo eagerly changed the subject "When my Legate, Edric, first returned with word of your capture, he spoke highly of your martial skill and your adherence to the soldier’s code. He called you an honorable man. To be frank, I thought his words were colored by the heat of the duel."

Alpheo leaned forward slightly. "Now I see that he was proven right. Your bravery in the field was remarkable, Lord Willios. You led men bravely, and you forced us to bleed for every single inch of ground."

Willios simply inclined his head, a gesture both humble and proud. "Your Grace is too kind. But I accept the compliment to be true considering where it comes from. As for Edric I believe respect is twice as sweet when shared.’’

’’Indeed, but if you’d kindly indulge me, I had some doubts of my own regarding the latter part of the siege, and I’d be thankful if they’d find answer in you.’’ He meaningfully said as he peered right at the captured man.