Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Of all the possible figures Arnold could have imagined behind that tent flap, he would never have thought to find him.

His younger brother.

The sight of him struck with the same cold weight as a blow to the gut, yet Arnold found himself rooted.

They hadn't seen one another in nearly three months.

Three months since the capital had fallen into silence.

Three months since the world had cracked open beneath their family name.

And now, here he was, sitting there as if nothing had happened .

No cloak of exile on his shoulders. No desperation in his posture. Just… calm. Almost regal.

It was infuriating really, while they were knee-deep in shit , it looked like Thalien was having the time of his life.

However,what struck Arnold most wasn't that his brother looked different. He didn't, not in the face, not in the posture. His frame was still lean with his youthful mischief. His hair was still combed in that careless way he used to insist was stylish, the scar above his eyebrow still faint from that fall on the garden stairs when they were boys.

But what had changed, what unsettled Arnold, was the expression in his eyes.

Once, those eyes had carried a practiced levity.

The jester in noble silks.

Now, those same eyes watched him with weight. Purpose. Stillness.

It was not the face of a boy resisting his father's fate. It was the face of a man who had chosen one.

The last time Arnold had looked at him, truly looked, was just before they fled the capital. Before their father, cornered by fear and pride, had made the fatal choice to sign the death warrant of his son's father-in-law, a man whose only crime was loyalty. Arnold had assumed—no, accepted—that his brother would vanish along with the rest.

But apparently, he had been wrong.

Terribly, dangerously wrong.

"How did you get inside?" Arnold asked surprised at how easy he infiltrated their camp.

"I heard your voices outside," he replied, tapping the side of his head as though reminding Arnold of something simple and overlooked. "You already have your answer, the guards basically told you."

Arnold's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't explain how you got through the guard lines."

Thalien smiled. "It explains more than you think." His voice was calm, controlled. "Sometimes, hiding in plain sight is the best disguise. Especially when everyone's too consumed by fear or grief to see what's right in front of them.

Thanks for not calling the guards by the way,I appreciate that" Thalien then said softly.

His voice carried a lilt of irony, casual but razor-thin as he continued. "It would have been… disheartening, to be found by Father. I'm sure he didn't take the recent events very well, right?"

As he spoke, his fingers danced with the feathered quill from Arnold's desk, spinning it effortlessly between his knuckles like a juggler with a dagger. With a practiced flair, he flicked it into the air, caught it again, and let it whirl through his fingers one final time before laying it across his lap, resting like a blade in its scabbard.

When he looked up, he wore that same sly half-smile Arnold remembered from childhood, the one that always came before trouble, the one that asked, "Impressive, right?"

Arnold exhaled through his nose, slowly, almost tiredly. "He did not," he replied, his eyes flickering toward the sealed letters piled atop his writing desk. The corners of his mouth tightened. "He spends most of his time in his tent. Drinking, I assume. I haven't visited him yet, not that I have the intention to."

The bitterness in his voice was clear to his younger brother.

Thalien meanwhile followed Arnold's gaze to the desk, his own expression flickering for a moment with something less performative. He straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "I haven't looked at them, don't worry. I'm not that disrespectful to read through your corrispondences."

He paused, the grin fading into a quieter, more honest cast. "Out of all of them, out of us, you were the one I didn't hate. You never gave me a reason to, we even played with each other when we were children. "

There was a silence that followed, one that apparently bothered Thalien as he believed it better to fill the silence with something.

"Are you adamant about not seeing him?" Thalien asked at last. "I'm sure Caedric will take the chance if you don't."

Arnold blinked at the name. His jaw tensed. "Caedric never returned," he said bluntly. "I assume he was caught by the Yarzat prince's vanguard. I don't care either way. We are lost after all...." as he said so his eyes narrowed slightly,as he remembered something

"Aren't you going to say where you were?"

He leaned forward just slightly, arms crossed. "We were told you'd fallen captive to the invaders. Some even said you were killed. Did you escape?"

Thalien tilted his head, like a cat studying a mouse too clever for its own good. "Well," he said slowly, tapping his index finger to his lips in mock thought, "it would be better for everyone if we say that I did."

Arnold didn't respond immediately. The words settled between them like dust in a crypt. Then, with a deliberate calm, he reached to the side, his hand closing over the hilt of the sword he had laid down earlier. The leather-wrapped grip felt natural in his palm.

"I see," he said. "Then perhaps it would also be better for everyone if I called the guards… and brought you to Father myself. I'm sure he'd be very happy to see his youngest son .

Then I think we can all have a peaceful chat at where you have been.''

Thalien didn't move. His previous calmness now disappearing as realization flickered across his face, understanding exactly what Arnold was implying.

"Come on, brother," he said, letting out a short, exasperated laugh, that mostly sounded forced. "We don't want to do that, do we? You have any idea what Father would do if he got his hands on me? That old fool probably thinks I'm the cause of all this. He couldn't smell his own shit if his nose was buried in it."

He leaned back, one leg crossing over the other as he gestured lazily toward Arnold.

"Still, I may have it bad, sure. But it's nothing compared to you, is it? You've lost everything. Your inheritance crumbled in your hands like dry bread. And we both know whose fault that is."

Arnold ignored his brother's taunt as he asked something more important , his voice came low and grim as he did . "Cretio."

Thalien tilted his head. "What was that?"

"Lord Cretio," Arnold said again, more clearly. His gaze was cold and still. "How did he die?"

Thalien's playful air vanished in an instant. His smile thinned and dissolved, replaced with a feigned solemnity. "We're not sure. They say it might've been his heart. No signs of violence. No disturbance. Just… dropped with his hand clutching his chest."

His lie was fluid, unbroken, smooth and convincing, even as he turned his eyes down for a second of mock grief.

As if he had not been the one to kill him.

"I see," Arnold said evenly, his eyes now fixed on the tent floor, voice unreadable. He exhaled slowly, as if letting go of something old. When he finally looked back up, his face was calm, too calm.

"I've already made peace with that. As harsh as that may sound"

He stood, his chair creaking softly as it slid back. "Still, I did not forget my previous question.

Why are you here, Thalien? If you were taken prisoner, the Yarzat prince would've sent word, demanded a ransom, something. But nothing ever came."

He spread his hands in mock confusion. "Which means you weren't captured. And I don't believe you escaped either. Not you.You aren't that bright. So that leaves only one path, doesn't it?"

He paused, letting the weight of the accusation settle.

"You've clasped hands with the invaders."

Thalien lifted a finger and pointed at Arnold with a wink. "I believe brother, that some things are better to be left alone."

Arnold didn't smile. He took a step forward the entrance . "Perhaps I should call the guards after all."

"Wait—wait—wait," Thalien cried, suddenly lunging forward, grabbing at Arnold's leg in mock desperation. "Come on, I'm your brother. Thought to have been lost to the enemy! Is this any way to greet me?Where is the love and the appreciation you have for me?"

Arnold didn't move. His eyes were full of ice.

He was not in the mood.

"Tell me why you're here, why have you deserted your family? Now. Or I shout for the men outside to bring you to father."

Thalien stayed on his knees for a second longer before rising with a huff, brushing the dirt from his sleeves.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, clicking his tongue. "There's no love left between us, is there?" He shook his head with theatrical disappointment.

"Gods, the decay in this family is tragic.

As per your question, what I want my dear brother is simple: What I want, which by the way should be also yours, is to deliver as much pain as I can on that bloated bastard that we call father.''

He noticed the stare Arnold gave him, and he was quick to defend himself

''You really think we owe anything to that sack of shit?" he spat, voice sharpening like a drawn blade.

"The man's a drunk, a coward, and a liar. Spent his life barking orders from behind silk curtains, selling off honor like livestock, while other bled for his mistakes, me , you....Lord Cretio."

He turned to Arnold with a sneer. "And for what? For him to discard us the moment things got hard? You saw it. You know what he is."

Still, Arnold said nothing. His eyes tracked Thalien, but they held no emotion—only cold, stony scrutiny.

Thalien's lip curled taking advantage of the silence to make his case. "I had no reason to stay loyal to that man. None. Whatever blood binds us dried up the very moment he closed me in my room that fateful day '' Thalien said, with anger in his eyes and voice as he delivered the memory of a moment that only he remembered

'' Now instead, I gave my service to someone who actually values it.''

He said this with pride now, chin raised slightly, waiting for the reaction he knew was coming.

Arnold let out a short, derisive snort instead.

Thalien caught it, surprisingly angered by it.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "Don't pretend you're above this. That you haven't thought of it."

Arnold crossed his arms, his silence still deafening.

"You don't believe your own snort," Thalien said, stepping close to his brother. "You think this loyalty of yours means anything? That Father would hesitate to cast you aside the moment it became convenient?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

Thalien's voice was soft now, but each word landed like a dagger on bare flesh.

For each one was true.

"Tell me, brother… do you really believe you're not already alone?"

He paced slowly, hands behind his back, his tone slipping into something almost pitying.

"Your army is a shamble of boots and bones. What remains of it limps toward a cause that's already dead. The nobles? They're vultures, waiting for the last breath to leave your lungs before they bend the knee and sell your name for protection and gold."

He stopped and looked Arnold in the eyes, a faint flame dancing in his own.

"What do you truly have on your side? A drunken prince whose crown means nothing anymore? A royal guard too demoralized to guard anything? The memory of a man who gave his life for a throne that did not deserve him?"

Arnold's jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing at the mention of Cretio.

"I am here, for you," he continued "To pull you from the grave before you make your final, stupid mistake. No more illusions, no more blind loyalty to men who would watch you burn if it brought them a day's peace. I am here because I am your brother"

He raised his hand, open-palmed, as if offering a pact.

"You won't get another chance. Refuse me, and call for the guards—then so be it. I'll die in chains with a smile on my lips, because I know you and Father will follow soon enough. But what I'm offering you…"

He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.

"Is one last chance to thrive. To live. With the hand the gods dealt us."

The silence that followed was long and heavy. Arnold stared at the outstretched hand, as if it were both salvation and poison.

His eyes flicked to the tent flaps, where his guards waited, tired, unaware of the decision being weighed behind canvas and shadow.

Then slowly, Arnold turned his gaze back to Thalien.

He didn't take the hand.

But he didn't call for the guards either.

"You speak boldly for a traitor." he simply said as that explained everything

Thalien smiled knowing he already made his choice.

"I learned from the very best."