Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 262: Being a Father

Chapter 262: Being a Father

The camp was alive with activity as dawn painted the horizon in pale shades of orange and pink. Soldiers moved sluggishly through the camp, their armor clinking softly, boots crunching on the frost-laden grass. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke from the cookfires, where pots of thin stew bubbled faintly. Some men cleaned their weapons, others checked their gear, but all carried the weariness of the campaign etched into their expressions.

Among them, Lucius and Marcus, two of the twenty soldiers who had led the disguised refugees to breach the gates of Arduronaven, sat cross-legged on the dew-soaked ground. They leaned against their packs, the morning chill barely bothering them, as they shared a quiet conversation. The bags under their eyes spoke of exhaustion, but their laughter was light, tinged with the satisfaction of men well-rewarded for their efforts.

"Seventy silverii," Marcus muttered, running his thumb over a small pouch tied securely to his belt. He shook his head, still in disbelief. "Can you imagine? That's more than a year's salary in one night."

Lucius chuckled, tapping his own pouch. "The prince sure knows how to keep his men loyal. I've seen lords in our camp who wouldn't part with a single coin after a victory, let alone something like this."

To some, seventy silverii considering that they made 5 each month, might not seem like a fortune, but to them, it was life-changing. The footmen in the prince's private army were already paid well compared to most. Earning five silverii a month, meant that they made more than twice the income of a skilled artisan. This wage allowed them to live comfortably, purchasing grain—the food of choice for those above the barest subsistence—and even indulge in meat regularly . Feeding a family of five for a month was no trouble on such wages, and still, there would be enough left to save for the future.

But this gift was another matter entirely. Lucius smiled to himself, thinking how the coin perhapse would finally convince that old fat oaf to allow him to have the hand of Sabine, Marcus meanwhile, less grounded, was already dreaming of ale and a pair of boots without holes.

The two fell silent for a moment, watching the camp come alive around them, much more than usual. Soldiers seemed to move with a sense of urgency that was uncommon in the slow, groggy hours of the morning. Groups were gathering in clusters, murmuring with an energy that spoke of something extraordinary.