Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king-Chapter 932: Blood dream(1)

As Blake moved through the corridors of the conquered palace, the roar of distant celebration faded behind him like a tide pulling back from shore when he was already walking on the beach, getting sand within his boots.

Outside a window, he glimpsed the sky. First time it was not filled with smoke...

It felt like centuries since he had stood offshore and watched this place burn. Since he’d ordered the sails drawn taut, sent men screaming onto sand, set torches to every hall these people called holy and took all the treasure that was inside.

Good times....those were good times.

He had no qualm about any of that, not even the latter, the Red God had ordered this city brought down and he had done just that.

They had come here for plunder and that they had got . Yet from the ashes he had walked away with more than any chest of coin.

Not gold, not titles, though he had expected one. Hoped for one. No crown had graced his brow,yet, still he had gained something he never thought to find.

He had once thought his brother Cain a blemish, a burn mark across the glory of their blood. A half-drowned relic spat back by the sea. But now, after seeing the victory his strategy had hewn, Blake felt a strange peace settle in his ribs like a bird roosting for the first time in years.

The cripple was worth more than I ever credited him.

His boots echoed along marble floors carved by people of higher lineage. Gilded columns had been cracked by axes to take the silver and gold etchings in it; rugs painted with centuries of craft lay in shreds beneath muddy boots. In the great throne hall, the man hacked apart the seat of the sultan, ripping gemstones free like teeth torn from a corpse.

Would have made a fine throne, Blake thought. Pity.

Apparently however, not all were feasting behind him.

Two sailors staggered ahead of him, arms hooked around each other’s shoulders, weaving like a deck in high storm. They turned at the sound of his tread. A breath to turn around without pukcing another as recognition struck them like a thrown hook.

"Hardgut!" one slurred, eyes gleaming.

"Red Angel!" the other gasped in reverence, or drunken awe.

Blake did not slow. His voice was clipped, carved sharp as a cutlass.

"The feast is behind me. Why are you here?"

The men stumbled into something resembling posture, smearing sweat across their faces as though it could sober them.

"J-Just taking a walk, captain," one muttered. Firelight glinted off something at his throat, gold, braided in a collar of worked metal. He grinned noticing his stare probably not drunk enough to get a boast out of anything.

"A little trophy. ’’ he lifted it proudly ’’The sand-dogs forge their teeth to be gold, it seems. They won’t miss this one."

Blake’s eye flicked to it, then away. Fine craftsmanship, wasted around the neck of a man who could barely stand. He had no patience for baubles tonight.

"Return to the feast." He stepped past them, tone low as a current dragging deep beneath a ship’s keel. "These are my brother’s quarters and I fear he doesn’t take kindly to visitors at this hour."

If they knew of that, they gave no sign.

’’I would rather sleep not hearing the sound of your necks being strung to a pole’’He looked outside to the stars before adding in a soft voice.

"You may not know of this , but he won us this victory...and he has not asked for a single boon. If he calls for your heads, I may provide them myself. I believe he had earned that at the least."

That ended discussion.

The men fled, boots skidding, laughter dying in their throats as they vanished back toward the revel.

Blake continued alone.

The hallway ahead was still, gave barely a glance at what remained of its decorations.

He stopped before a tall door.

His hand closed around the bronze latch.

Behind this door lay the brother he had judged, dismissed, misunderstood. The man who had given their people triumph even as he wanted nothing to do with it.

He slowly opened the door.

Right in time see his brother’s ass, filled with sweat, naked, pumping with all he had inside the woman whose family he had made his brother buy.

He yelped like a beaten whore when he turned and found his brother in the doorway.

Blake did not comment. Cain had certainly earned his moment of pleasure but unfortunately the timing was inconvenient, and indulgence could wait.

He stooped, plucked the silk cloth from the floor, one of the many gifts he had brought his brother after the sack of the city and flicked it through the air. Cain caught it, half on instinct.

"Get dressed," Blake said, voice unchanging. "You may fuck your slave later. Tonight your place is at the feast."

For a heartbeat Cain only stared between him and the cloth in his hand, as if his mind lagged behind the moment. Only then, realizing Shawani lay bare beneath Blake’s gaze, did he lift the fabric to cast it protectively over her shoulders, hiding her from eyes that were not invited to witness her.

"I would rather not spoil anyone’s appetite with my leg and my eye," he muttered

"One’s already covered," Blake answered with dry amusement, though Cain did not so much as crack a smile.

"I was having a fine enough night without your intrusion."

"You can bed your slave any hour you wish," Blake returned, eyes narrowing slightly as Cain’s cheek twitched, "but you will not have another night like this one. The men should see you, the one who won them their glory."

If the fool is truly falling for her, red God damn it, the first pair of warm thighs and he’s drowning in sentiment.

I should find a noble-born girl, pay her to lure him away, keep him from making a spectacle of himself.

Last thing I need is him marrying a slave.

Cain drew a breath, steadying himself.

"Since when," he asked slowly, "do you concern yourself with my welfare? I would sooner be left to my solitude."

"You are my brother," Blake answered, patient but iron beneath it. "You won us this victory, yet you linger in shadow. Remain hidden and they will believe you belong there. Step forward tonight, and you step toward power."

Cain’s gaze sharpened, wounded and cold. "I was under the impression I was no longer counted among your blood."

"That," Blake replied remembering he had indeed said that, "was said in haste."

"And haste or not, the consequence remains."

Abyss take him, Blake thought, he bleeds like an opened fish and expects the world not to smell it.

Then Cain’s voice rose, not loud, but raw, like something tearing open.

"Why do you care, Blake? A month past you would have thrown me to the sharks and watched them bite away the scraps, and you would not have flinched."

"A month past, I barely knew you," Blake answered, not quite defensively, not quite apologetically.

"You never tried," Cain breathed. "You sailed for glory while Mother waited. TEN YEARS!You have not met her in a decade.., perhaps more.She is counting her son like sands in her hands. Three lost to sea, one returned mad and broken, and the last too grand to look back at the woman who birthed him.

I thought I was the pitiful one, the scarred wretch destined for pity," he laughed without humor, "but she has earned the title far more than I. Forgotten by all, kept only in the memory of the cripple." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Blake’s jaw tightened. "My duties were many."

"So many," Cain whispered, "that they devoured every path home."

Blake attempted levity, though it landed like iron against stone. "You spit venom only because you haven’t yet spent yourself. Shall I return once you’ve emptied your balls?"

"Do not mock me."The words cracked like a whip. Even Cain seemed startled by the sound of his own voice.

Twenty years of silence had finally found a tongue.

"You built an empire at sea," Cain went on, quieter but cut with steel. "None can deny the miracle of it. You raised our house from ruin, and for that I do not lack admiration. But victory does not make you good.

You are a great captain, perhaps even a great conqueror, but you are a poor and miserable man, Blake. You locked me away like a shameful secret, and you let the ocean swallow the key. You did not fight for us, you fought for what you hungered for.What surprise is there now for you when no love is there to welcome you?"

He paused, chest rising and falling, eyes bright like fever.

"I came here with purpose of aiding, that I did. Even though I believed I would perhaps die before I see it through, so let me speak truth while I still breathe it: I am not yours, and you are not mine. The blood between us is a rope you have frayed.

So why are you here?To mock me?Or do you hope to wash away two decades of solitude with some jests?"

His hand tightened around the silk like it was throat or anchor.

Whatever Cain expected, it was not that.

Blake stood and, without a word, and slowly started toward him.