Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 170: Shaking hand with enemy

Alarzat, now declaring himself King of Arlania, sat on a simple wooden chair in his modest audience hall. His skin was a deep, tanned brown, kissed by the sun, as the people that declared themselves blessed by earth and sun. His black hair was braided tightly, falling from the back of his neck and draping over his chest, giving him a regal yet rugged look.

Around his neck hung a heavy gold necklace, a symbol of his newfound kingship, resting atop his broad chest. Similar golden bands adorned his wrists, catching the light and glinting faintly with each of his subtle movements. Despite the simplicity of the chair beneath him, his adornments and commanding presence made it clear that he was no mere prince anymore, but the ruler of a land he now called his kingdom.

The meeting had been called by none other than Maesinius of House Romelia, who now styled himself as the Snow King. It was a title he had claimed after the secession of the northern realms during the chaos of the civil war.

His envoy, a sharp-eyed man named Cyrana man that did not come frome the northern land but from the province of Messenia , stood in the modest audience chamber of King Alarzat, watching the man who had become the symbol of Arlanian defiance and also the man who led the empire to his current situation.

Cyran's gaze lingered on Alarzat, his thoughts simmering beneath a composed exterior. He knew, as did many others, that it was Alarzat's actions that had ignited the storm that tore the empire apart. The civil war had been triggered by the bold maneuvering of this self-proclaimed king, and it was his hands that had shaped the course of events. The secession of the north, the breakdown of imperial authority, and the widespread unrest—they all traced back to the chaos Alarzat had sown when with a stone they killed a giant.

Cyran didn't hate the man. In fact, a part of him couldn't help but admire Alarzat. The so-called king had taken a crumbling, weak state and transformed it through sheer force of will. He had done everything possible to make it rise from its own ashes. It wasn't lost on Cyran that Alarzat had seized control of the southern principalities just half a year ago, after the pivotal victory at Barshaa. In that short time, he made it very clear to everyone that he wasn't just another princeling who would come and go every two years—he was here to stay

 The first thing he did after his victory was to rally his army and march to every lord in the region, demanding an oath of allegiance. He didn't stop there—he also required a son as a hostage from each noble house. Many had obeyed, bending the knee as quickly as they could. But, as always, some had refused, either out of pride or fear. Those dissenters found their castles besieged, their walls shattered, and—after a few well-publicized executions—everyone fell in line. A few beheadings had been enough to remind the lords of who was in charge now.