The room was small and close, warmed only by the pale light that crept in through a narrow window and the faint, flickering glow of a few half-burned candles scattered across the desk. The scent of melted wax and old paper lingered in the air.
My new workroom, Alpheo mused, leaning back in the chair as if trying it on for size.
His boots found their way onto the desk, heels resting beside the candle stubs. He was waiting for someone and there was plenty to discuss with the man he waited for , but time had a way of dragging when one had nothing to do but wait.
He drew his dagger and began picking at the dirt under his nails. It wasn't particularly effective, but it gave his hands something to do and his mind something to half-ignore.
When the monotony grew unbearable, he rose and started wandering the cramped space, idly tugging open drawers, like a child in his new home..
Inside the desk lay a few scattered parchments, scrawled over with writing he couldn't decipher. His jaw tightened. I'll have to pay someone to tutor me—and the rest. Reading, writing, numbers… we need them all. The thought sat in his mind like a stone.
He hated being an analphabet,especially since he was an avid reader.
His throat felt dry, so he crossed to a cabinet and found a small collection of cups and bottles. One urn gave off the sour, earthy scent of wine when opened. He poured himself a measure, watching the red swirl into the cup before taking a slow sip.
Perhaps I'll make the boy my cupbearer, he thought, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. It had been less than a week since he'd taken the Ratto in, yet the lad had grown on him quickly. Clumsy, amusing to watch, and, most importantly, hungry to learn.
Alpheo valued that.
If there was one glaring weakness in the company, it was the lack of competent commanders and administrators. The people he'd set to those tasks had proven… disappointing.
Not that it was their fault, after all they were all slaves until some months ago...
He was half-tempted to teach the boy simple multiplication and sums, make him keeper of the band's accounts. It would be easier said than done, such knowledge was usually the privilege of merchant sons or wealthy artisans, not mercenary brats. But solutions had to start somewhere.
The door creaked open.
Alpheo's eyes flicked toward it, narrowing slightly. "Is it not customary to knock before entering?" His tone was firm, the words measured.
"Not when entering one's own room," came the low, rumbling reply.
"Temporarily my room," Alpheo countered without raising his voice. "So next time, Captain Fahil…please knock."
The older man's expression tightened, but he didn't push it further.
"No need for needless hostility," Alpheo went on, gesturing loosely with his cup. "In less than two weeks, I'll be gone. You'll have your post back, your duties intact, and hopefully we'll part on decent terms. Until then, let's spend the time well, no barking at each other like dogs in heat. Now… have you done what I asked?"
"Yes." Fahil's reply was curt, but businesslike, giving no sign whethever he loathed being ordered by a boy. "The stores are full, enough food to keep the town through the winter. As for weapons, we can arm another hundred men, though only twenty have chainmail. This is a small city, after all."
Alpheo nodded, though inwardly he wished the armory was worth the name. His gaze drifted back to the cup in his hand.
"Oh, how discourteous of me," he said, lifting it slightly toward Fahil. "Care to share a drink?"It was a generous offer for wine that wasn't his to begin with.
Fahil's only answer was a long, weary sigh. "Let's just get to the work. No need for false courtesies. You do your part, I'll do mine. And perhaps by the end, each will go his way."
"Fair enough," Alpheo conceded, taking a slow sip. "In that case, I have a task for you." He rose from his chair, crossing to the narrow window to look out over the small town.
"What is it?" Fahil asked, eyes following his every move.
"The garrison's near empty," Alpheo said, turning back to face him. "I want every man you can find brought in and trained. Drill them hard, make them worth the food they'll eat. Think you can manage that?"
"Of course I can. Been doing it my whole life," Fahil replied, hoarse in his voice.
And doing a poor job of it, by the look of things, Alpheo thought as he cleared his throat. "Good. Then see to it they're ready for whatever's coming."
"And you?" Fahil asked, a shade of skepticism in his tone.
Alpheo chuckled. "I'll see to the rest.
Gotta be making sure this little town can withstand whatever's thrown at it until our prince decides to grace us with his presence. Now, unless you have more questions, I'd like to get started." He dismissed the captain with a flick of his hand.
Fahil grunted and left without another word. The moment the door shut, the men waiting outside stepped in.
"Pretty small," Egil muttered, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on the cup in Alpheo's hand.
"I'm not a big man," Alpheo replied casually, settling back into his chair. "It'll do. Now, each of you has a job."
Laedio shifted, scratching the back of his neck. "Fine by me. The sooner we start, the less likely this place becomes my grave."
"True enough," Alpheo said, then fixed his gaze on Egil. "You first. Take every rider we have. Get out into the countryside and bring in anyone you can. Tell them enemies are coming, and these walls are their best chance. We'll need every able hand, most will work, the rest will guard." He took another sip before adding, "This city's in shambles. Refugees will be more than mouths to feed, but they'll be bodies to hold a spear."
Egil frowned. "And the food? Thousands more will drain it quickly."
Alpheo's lips curled into a faint smile. "If we die, it'll be from enemy steel, not empty bellies. Supplies may run thin, but that's a problem for the prince to solve; if there's still a city for him to save, he will be thanking us."
"Fine by me," Egil said with a grin. "At least I'll be riding. This fine ass was made for the saddle." He slapped his own backside for emphasis and sauntered out.
Alpheo sighed into his wine. "He could've left that last part unsaid." His gaze shifted to the others. "Alright, let's get to work. There's much to do if we want this city to last more than a week under siege."