Nothing elevates a ruler more surely than victory.
And Alpheo stood as living proof.
A man of no birthright—he had clawed his way up through the ladder through the sheer amount of body of those that had opposed him.
He had married into royalty—a scandal, at the time. The union was mocked by the highborn, a whispered joke passed around gilded halls. Mixing royal blood with that of a common swine? Unthinkable.
So for the first years, the current ruling house of Yarzat was treated as a joke by local nobles and outsiders.
But that was two years, three campaigns, and half a dozen battles ago.
Now? No one laughed.
The same nobles who once turned their noses up now bowed their heads, kissed his ring, and sent their finest wine to his table. Those who had mocked him either bent the knee or were buried with their pride.
