Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 13: Escape (3)

He has done it , the camp was his , all the soldiers defending it were killed , their armors were looted . And their dead bodies left to welcome the army once they are back , one small gift in exchange for all the things they were to take .

Alpheo stood there , the sword of one of the soldiers in hand , all the slaves around observed him in awe, during the fight talks went around and they all discovered that it was the boy in front of them the mastermind behind it all.

As he glanced over his shoulder, a smile spread across Alpheo's face at the sight of Egil returning to his side, the two of them sharing a moment of silent acknowledgment. 'They have succeeded.... very well,the camp is ours' Alpheo thought , as his mind raced to understand on what to do .

Yet, despite the apparent success of their rebellion, Alpheo knew that they were not yet out of danger. The taste of victory was sweet, yet it was tempered by the fact, that their freedom was a fragile flame, that could be easily extinguished by the winds .The army could return at any moment and if they were not out of there by then. All they had done would have been for naught. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was growing in him.

As Alpheo walked, he couldn't help but recognize a few faces in the crowd. None of them brought back fond memories, only reminders of past grievances and conflicts. His eyes landed on a particularly rotund figure, sprawled on the ground before him. "Well, if it isn't madam Virzian," he muttered under his breath as he knelt down to get a closer look. It was clear that she was already dead, her eyes glassy and her body still. Alpheo had always prided himself on not holding grudges against the dead, but he couldn't deny feeling a sense of satisfaction at her demise.

With a sly smile, he raised his leg and gave her a swift kick to the stomach. A small laugh escaped his lips as he watched the rolls of fat jiggle with the impact. "I once heard of a Chinese emperor whose body burned for three days on the street, or maybe it was a general . I wonder if we could set a new record here," he mused aloud, entertained by the thought of giving madam Virzian such an extravagant send-off.

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But upon further reflection, Alpheo dismissed the idea. He knew that burning her body would bring him no real joy or fulfillment. Instead, he turned away from the lifeless form and continued on his way, leaving behind any thoughts of revenge or retribution. Revenge may be sweet, but in this case, it held no appeal for him.

He knew they couldn't afford to linger. There was no telling if any of the soldiers or of the camp follower had managed to escape the carnage and were now racing back to the army on foot. Better to be safe than sorry, he reasoned, as he began to organize the slaves to speed up their efforts in securing the camp and preparing for whatever might come next.

Alpheo's voice cut through the air, resonating with a newfound authority as he raised his sword high above his head. "Brothers!" he called out, his voice echoing across the camp. "The camp is ours! We have conquered it, and with it, we have reclaimed our freedom!"

A surge of cheers erupted from the gathered slaves, their fists raised toward the sky .

"But we must not become complacent," he continued. "Our oppressors may return at any moment with their army in tow. We must be vigilant and quick ." A small silence followed, with a few slaves nervously gulping down their fears. He knew they were scared, he was too , but he couldn't show any signs of weakness.

"We must leave this place and rebuild our lives elsewhere. Alone, we are vulnerable and will surely fall. But united, we shall stand strong against any threat. We have one hour to loot the camp and take what we need. Food and gold should be our top priorities. Search through the tents and gather clothes to use as makeshift bags for carrying necessary items. Whatever you find, shout out and alert your brothers. And do not be greedy - what use is gold if you will die before spending it? The same goes for weapons - if you find any, distribute them among your fellow comrades for our defense. And any man or woman you come across, kill them without hesitation. We do not have time for mercy or games. Now go!"

As Alpheo's powerful voice echoed throughout the camp, the various slaves sprang into action with renewed vigor and purpose.

"Clio, go find Egil and tell him to untie the horses," Alpheo shouted, his voice carrying over the bustle of the camp. "Also, search the area for any more of them, we may need them in the future . "

Clio nodded and took off in a sprint towards where he believed Egil was stationed. Despite being given orders by someone much younger than him, Clio held no resentment. After all, it was that boy who had made freedom a reality instead of just a distant dream for their people. And so Clio's feet pounded against the ground as he raced through the camp.

As Alpheo made his way through the bustling camp, he observed the show with a smile . Slaves dashed to and fro, their voices ringing out in excitement as they shouted to their companions upon discovering something of value.

"Hey, over here! I found some food !" one slave exclaimed, waving a loaf of bread triumphantly.

"Here there are some weapons !" another shouted, pointing at a tent before entering it and coming out with chainmail and an helmet .

The camp was filled with hope as the slaves rummaged through the tents, their smiles wide and infectious, after all all these things they were stealing would be theirs .

It was not all smiles however as despair was all around

"Help! Someone, please help me!" a woman cried out, her desperate plea piercing the air before being abruptly stopped by a blade. It was a good thing they heeded his order, as he feared that after finally gaining freedom, they would have went around raping the cooks instead of stacking up supplies.But apparently the notion that danger was coming , made all lower parts go limp and extinguish any desire to unleash their dragons.

He had no guilt about what he was seeing. The disgusted looks from those who passed by him were still fresh in his mind, reminding him of a lifetime of rejection and scorn. So why should he trouble himself with things like mercy or guilt? Had anyone ever extended a helping hand to him? No, they had not. And now, as his hand tightly gripped the cold steel of a knife, he felt no qualms in using it. Taking lives had become second nature to him long ago - a necessary means of survival in a harsh world. He had not lived so long only by acting meek, he sometimes had to take lives to make sure that his would continue .

And so as his blade sliced through the air and into the soft flesh of the neck of a man moaning in pain with the bone sticking out of his leg, he felt nothing - no pain, no guilt, no pleasure - just emptiness. All that mattered was surviving another day, by any means necessary.