"A girl who grew up hiding from place to place, struggling to survive in constant fear, with a half-mad brother obsessed with his crown! What would she want?" Qyburn analyzed calmly. "She would need a pair of arms, strong, powerful arms, and a handsome, unrestrained warrior who never lost a battle! Your Highness, you have beauty and charm, and you certainly do not lack strength. All we lack is a power base with which to draw the princess to us. You can be steel or silk. So long as you appear before her, we have a chance!"
Gendry had to admit Qyburn was right. Seduction worked wonders on someone ruled by romance, especially in an age when looks mattered so much. But stealing her away would require the right opportunity! Daenerys's value lay in more than her beauty. She was also one of the keys and catalysts to awakening the Magic Dragons.
"We'll get news of Viserys and Daenerys from the smugglers!" Gendry said. "The Disputed Lands have a long coastline. Those smugglers and pirates hear all sorts of things!"
"I would be delighted to bring about such a lovely match!"
Chapter 24: Myr's struggle for power (please keep reading)
The situation in Myr was growing worse, judging by Handsome's increasingly gloomy expression!
The raiding bands of brigand sellswords were still small, nowhere near as numerous as the Brigand Knights. And with the Wolf Pack Company's sellswords and slaves working together, the Fireweed estate had dug deeper, wider ditches. Yet Handsome could not feel happy.
The magister's troubles were not confined to this estate. They lay even more in the city of Myr. Competition for the seats of magister in the Free Cities could just barely be called orderly, but now and then a bloody note crept into the tune. Assassination. Poisoning.
"Perhaps the Wolf Pack Company is tied too closely to Magister Cassor!" Standing high on the estate wall, with beautiful open countryside stretching into the distance, Handsome spoke quietly to Gendry. Gendry was another educated man in the company, brave and resourceful. His strength and courage had earned the sellswords' admiration. After all, not everyone could hammer a Meereenese gladiator to death.
"Aren't we just sellswords? Have we been dragged into the Myrish game too?"
"Sellswords lack loyalty, and freeriders have no discipline. But the Wolf Pack Company is different. We have a long history of working with Magister Cassor's family! We have a lasting, close contract!"
Gendry understood what Handsome meant. Magister Cassor and the Wolf Pack Company supported each other. Bound by blood and friendship, the company would not abandon the magister lightly. And given their long-standing partnership, the magister's enemies would wipe out the Wolf Pack Company along with him.
"But it's nothing so terrible. Dying in battle is a sellsword's fate. Riding fine horses with swords at our sides, fighting and adventuring in the Free Cities, enjoying songs, dancing, and brothels, then dying in some senseless war-that's our life. But you're different, lad. You don't have to go down with the Wolf Pack Company!" Handsome wanted Gendry to be prepared.
"You're a good lad, with a bright future, handsome and fearless. The Wolf Pack Company is only your first stop. Normally, a sellsword serves in many companies. But we're different. Northern blood flows in our veins, and we don't want to move on again!"
"Has it really come to that?" Gendry pondered. Handsome sounded as though he were entrusting his dependents to him.
"Greybeard sent word. This election year won't be easy. The merchants who used to support the magister seem to have received some sort of signal. They're refusing loans, and the Bank of Myr has refused to help too. That's why the magister desperately needs to turn the Fireweed into gold!" Handsome paused in thought. "Without money, he can't bribe voters or win their favor."
Gendry knew how things worked in the Free Cities. Money was the bond that held power together. The elections in Volantis were the most famous, but those of the Three Daughters were much the same.
Elections in Volantis lasted ten days, and those ten days were a time of pleasure for the voters. Candidates used every means at their disposal to please them. During this ten-day carnival, torchlight processions and speeches filled the streets, along with performances by mummers, singers, and dancers. Assassins dueled for the candidates they supported. Elephants bore candidates' names on their bodies. Some candidates even let their slaves bed the voters, doing anything to win their votes.
"Forget it. Let's not worry about matters in Myr beyond our power! The attacks on the Fireweed estate show that our enemies are powerful and mysterious. And with this being an election year, the magister needs to strengthen his own defenses. Some of the Wolf Pack Company will go protect him, while others will come reinforce us!"
"Let's hope the magister wins this time!" That was all Gendry could hope for. Only local freemen could navigate Myr's electoral sham. Brute force alone could not solve it.
"I hope so too. Go train, little Gen!" Handsome smiled and sent Gendry off to his own business.
Gendry walked down from the estate's high wall and saw the rust-red Fireweed, beautiful as burning flames, with slaves bustling all around it. The Fireweed was nearly ripe. Once it had been dried in the sun and baked dry, it would be sent to Myr.
Red! The world's color is red! Gendry thought. The world would perish in fire, or in ice. They had already become embroiled in Myr's turmoil.
When he had no combat duties, Gendry liked to train on the practice grounds, learning to fight against all kinds of weapons.
The spearman's thrusts came from unpredictable angles. In the past, they had left Gendry's armor covered in marks and dents, but he was gradually growing familiar with the man's rhythm. The strange flail had also given Gendry plenty of trouble. A flail generally consisted of a stick joined to a length of chain, somewhat like a meteor hammer. A metal head was fixed to the end of the chain, sometimes blunt like a hammer, sometimes studded like a morning star.
Spears! Meteor hammers! Flails! I've learned how many weapons are built, but I'm still best with a spiked hammer! A knight ought to master all kinds of weapons, so he could adapt to conditions on the battlefield.
Only after more than half a day of intense sparring did Gendry have time to catch his breath. He would train until late, until he was exhausted, and his strength and endurance won every sellsword's admiration. Maester Qyburn came to find him again. Apparently, something urgent had arisen.
"Your Highness, two matters. First, there has been some movement from the Beggar King and his guardian. They're hiding in Pentos," Qyburn said quietly. "Since selling his mother's crown to support himself, the Beggar King has nothing left to sell. Perhaps only his sister remains now. Trading his sister for an army will be difficult. Few people have any interest in openly challenging the Iron Throne. Still, we have little time."
"We do have little time! But we need the right opening. Snatching food from a shrewd merchant's hands is no easy task. What's the second matter?" Gendry knew about the magister's residence in Pentos. The fat magister had sheltered the fugitive brother and sister of House Targaryen while keeping them under his control. He was seeking a husband for Daenerys. Finding someone with a powerful army who was willing to cross the sea and invade Westeros was difficult, which was why he had finally settled on a Khal. Stealing her away required an opportunity. They could not simply hand the fat man a windfall.
"One more thing! According to the smugglers, our employer seems to be having a very difficult time. The wealthy merchants of the Navigators' Guild intend to band together and push him out of his seat!"
"The Navigators' Association? Pirates, you mean!" Gendry scoffed.
"Navigators can also be pirates. The two hardly conflict. We need to consider getting ourselves out too!" Qyburn laid out his plans.
"The captain already told me this news! We can leave at any time! But I want to wait and see a little longer. After all, the Wolf Pack Company is the first army we've had contact with."
"So you already had a plan! Good!" Qyburn felt reassured. "Really, between the nearby Fireweed estates and the mines, the Disputed Lands have no shortage of wealth."
Gendry glanced at Qyburn. If it truly came to the worst, they might have to rally the slaves and plunder the Disputed Lands. The manpower was already there.
"Your Highness, King Robert won victories with his warhammer. There is no reason we cannot do the same! But besides courage, we may also need a patron. Even the exiled descendants of House Targaryen have patrons. With your identity, you would not lack them either." Qyburn had seen the Stag's fearlessness on the battlefield. The path from bastard to king was perilous, but not impossible. Once news broke that the king's legitimate children had been born of adultery, wealthy merchants and bankers would surely catch the scent and come to invest in Gendry.
"Patrons are insatiably greedy, and we have too few cards to play. The king won the War of the Usurper, but he didn't claim all the fruits of victory. Dorne remained angry, and House Lannister was brought in through marriage." Gendry disliked victories won through compromise. In general, royal authority had never been strongly centralized, and King Robert's mind was not on the throne. Splitting House Baratheon into three was such a stifling move that it was hard to know what to say.
"You're quite right, but politics always requires weighing options and making choices, considering gains and losses. King Robert doesn't trouble himself with thinking. Most of his strategies of alliance and compromise came from Duke Jon."
"The king seems to be the throne's central pillar, but in truth, it's that tireless old Duke Jon." Gendry considered the great alliance of falcon, trout, wolf, and stag. The falcon had been its lubricant and facilitator, even in the later reconciliation with Dorne and marriage alliance with House Lannister.
"Yes, Your Highness! The whole burden rests on one man, but how old is Duke Jon now? He can't keep cleaning up after our king forever. Here in Essos, we cannot act recklessly either. We need allies and supporters too."
Chapter 25: The bloodstained road (please keep reading)
The Fireweed estate had been harvested clean. The Fireweed was sun-dried and baked. Once dried, it could be used as medicine or added to wine. The magister needed this wealth, and everyone knew it.
"I'll await your news, and Magister Cassor's fate, cast like dice-whether he rises high or falls into the abyss!" the estate steward told Handsome.
"Aren't you coming back to Myr with us, Steward Lev?" Handsome asked quietly.
"This estate with its red-painted gates has been half my life. I was born here, and here I'll die. Besides, Myr is as dangerous as the Fireweed estate now. Still, I pray the magister wins this election. Otherwise, I may end up on the streets. Other magisters will prefer their own men," Steward Lev replied.
"I'd forgotten that! True enough, Myr isn't safe now either!" Handsome felt the sorrow in the air as well. If a magister fell, all his property would most likely be seized. Magister Cassor's harbor, estates, shops, wife and children, and slaves-none would be spared.
Late in the Dance of the Dragons, for example, Bambaro, a magister of Lys, had been killed by sellswords over unpaid wages. After his death, people discovered he was deeply in debt. His creditors seized his mansion and sold his wife and children into slavery. All his property, including Prince Viserys, went to the great Lysandro Rogare.
"Take care, old friend!" Handsome told the steward solemnly. Then he ordered the mournful horn sounded. The Wolf Pack Company would escort the transport convoy out at dawn. They had sounded the horn several times recently, for people outside the estate were watching them. This time, however, they would truly depart.
"You take care too, old friend! If things go badly in Myr, the Fireweed estate can still serve as a refuge of sorts. There are small hills here, the estate, and some slaves. Most importantly, the coast isn't far away," the steward said sincerely. He was a freeman of Myr, and he understood Myrish politics.
The mournful horn echoed through the estate. In his room, Gendry looked at himself in the mirror, bright as a newly forged sword. People said a person looked much better in a mirror than in everyday life, and he was already a handsome, strong boy. Gendry was tall and solidly muscled. His thick black hair and blue eyes were the inheritance of House Baratheon.
Gendry looked over his polished black scale armor, spiked warhammer, meteor hammer, Arakh, and Yew Longbow. These were almost all his finest possessions. The road to Myr was certain to be fraught with danger.
Knock, knock! Qyburn knocked and entered. He too had put on a black mail shirt, though the old man seemed barely able to bear its weight. Still, the battlefield was full of dangers.
"Let's go, Your Highness! At our marching speed, perhaps we won't miss the Myrish election game!"
"The Myrish election game. Power seems to possess countless enchantments, driving people to its will!" Gendry sighed. Magic was like an ornament, like stars. In this age of relatively weak magic, the most prominent force was still political power.
"There's no helping it. Unless we become as strong as the Golden Company, comparable in size to a regular army, we must depend on a magister. Only then would the Free Cities court our favor instead!" Qyburn envied the Golden Company's size.
"There's also the worst possibility: Magister Cassor suffers a complete defeat!" Gendry considered it. If Cassor and his family fell, what would happen to the Wolf Pack Company? They would certainly suffer upheaval.
"Really, our best option would have been to stay inside the estate. Once things went badly in Myr, we could take this batch of Fireweed and retreat to Crown Town, or hire ships and head to the Stepstones to become pirates! Unfortunately, northerners have rocks for brains."
"You're imagining the worst outcome. The Wolf Pack Company isn't the Brigand Knights, after all!"
"I heard from the smugglers in Pentos that life is growing harder and harder for Viserys and Daenerys!" Qyburn whispered to Gendry again. "At first, the magisters, princes, and wealthy merchants ruling the Free Cities were happy to receive those of true dragon blood. But as time passed and King Robert's rule grew secure, fewer doors remained open to them. Over the years, they sold all their jewels. Now they've spent much of the money from selling their mother's crown too. The people of Pentos call them the beggar siblings, the Beggar King and the Beggar Princess."
"Viserys wants too much. He wants to sell his sister for a handsome price, but even the greediest prince wouldn't dare accept that price!" Gendry said. Viserys wanted the throne. He wanted to hire an army and go to the sunset continent to restore his kingdom, something beyond the capabilities of the Free Cities. Without sufficient profit, those cheesemongers and butter merchants would never dare launch such a military adventure. So long as the great alliance of trout, wolf, lion, falcon, and stag remained intact, the situation still appeared solid as a rock.
"The Beggar King is nearly mad from waiting for his chance. He wants that throne too badly! He waits for the true dragon's return, but year after year, no opportunity comes! He is also an obstacle to our cause. You only need the princess!" Qyburn said.
"Poor man! I hear the Beggar King is showing some signs of madness too. I wonder whether it's inherited or driven into him," Gendry sighed.
Enduring more than a decade of exile while hoping to restore his kingdom made the Beggar King almost superhuman. If he had held on another couple of years, until turmoil struck the Iron Throne, how happy he would have been to see Westeros descend into chaos. At least his restoration might have had a glimmer of hope. Sadly, day after day of waiting and anger had already scorched Viserys's soul. He could endure no more.
"The beautiful dragon princess is still a dream. For now, we have to face the infighting between cheesemongers and Fireweed merchants!"
The Wolf Pack Company's banner fluttered in the wind. Since they were escorting a column of slaves transporting Fireweed, their pace was not particularly fast!
This time, the Wolf Pack Company took a different route. Men and horses left the Fireweed estate and headed straight for the coast, where arranged ships would carry them to Myr.
But this stretch of road was far from secure. The journey from the estate to the coast was the most dangerous part, and rather rugged, nowhere near as broad as the main roads of the Disputed Lands. Yet time was what the wolves needed most. They could not spare a moment.
Along both sides of the road, Gendry saw corpses nailed to crosses. There were many of them, and crows had pecked away all their flesh! A strange gleam shone in the hollow sockets of their skulls, leaving him speechless. The wind stirred their torn, ragged clothes. Some bodies still wore shackles.
"These people were crucified!" Handsome said. "Some were runaway slaves, others smugglers who came to the coast! If they're caught, this is their fate!"
"The chief took thirty men to Myr!" Dick the Bowmaker said. He had brought twenty men to the Fireweed estate as well. "We have about sixty men here now. The other sixty stayed at the Wolf's Den with the families and attendants."
"I no longer have sixty men here. Meteor Hammer and three other brothers are gone. To be precise, there are just over fifty brothers!" Handsome corrected him.
"Looks the same to me!" Dick the Bowmaker smiled. "A pack of fifty-odd wolves is still mighty and invincible! And we have a lad like this. I heard he killed the Meereenese and avenged Meteor Hammer!"
Gendry felt a little embarrassed, but proud as well.
"I keep feeling someone is watching us! Looks like they've finally waited long enough!" Handsome said suddenly, putting everyone on guard.
Chapter 26: Slaughter and flight (please keep reading)
Dawn was breaking. The Wolf Pack Company's gray-white banner, bearing running wolves, pierced the chilly morning. Never had Gendry enjoyed the scent of the sea breeze more than he did now. After leaving the Fireweed estate, the company immediately escorted the slaves hauling four large wagons of dried Fireweed east at speed, heading first for the coast to meet the smugglers' fleet they had arranged.
The wolves had always traveled overland from the Fireweed estate to Myr, but this time Handsome had decisively chosen to take a sea route from the Disputed Lands. The road from the estate to the coast was rougher and harder to travel, but once they transferred to ships, they would move much faster.
Still, it was difficult for their column to conceal its movements completely. The Fireweed ripened at a fixed time, and escorting a slave convoy transporting it slowed their progress.
"Four lookouts at the front and rear of the column!" Handsome ordered, choosing agile, sharp-eyed veteran sellswords. Cavalry rode on both flanks, while the Fireweed convoy occupied the center with the infantry and longbowmen! Everyone had armor: plate, black scale, or mail. Even the slaves had leather armor to keep them alive.
"Someone's there! We really are being watched from behind." A lookout at the rear swiftly brought back word. "The brigand sellswords' and runaway slaves' watchers have been following us!"
Be ready, old friend! Gendry thought, stroking his spiked hammer.
"We chose the sea route to Myr precisely to avoid the brigand sellswords! I never thought we'd still fail to shake them!" Handsome mused. "The enemy set an ambush inland. They certainly didn't expect us to go by sea. Once they realize it, they'll turn and chase us! Pick up the pace! Move as fast as you can. We'll only be safe once we're aboard."
"The enemy outnumbers us several times over, and they're hiding in the shadows." Handsome raised his riding whip and rode his fine horse up and down the column. "Are you afraid, brothers?"
"No!"
"The wolves' warriors aren't afraid to die! What's there to fear? We northerners never snivel like women!"
"Our tactics are very simple. Courage, courage, and more courage!" Handsome bumped fists with the sellswords one by one, and even with the slaves. "Lives come first. If there's no other choice, we can abandon some of the Fireweed. So long as we escape with most of the cargo, that's victory!"
"Winter is coming! The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives! If the Old and New Gods still love us, let us march over those brigands' bones!" Handsome roared.
"Winter is coming! The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives!" The Wolf Pack Company's sellswords answered in voices like steel, then pressed onward with the same steely resolve.
"Lad, in a little while, stay in the center with Master Qyburn and escort the cargo!" Handsome said as he came up to Gendry.
"Captain, I'm willing to lead the charge!" Gendry raised his warhammer. "My warhammer is thirsting for blood too!"
"Good lad!" Handsome clapped Gendry on the shoulder, then lowered his voice. "The pack fears nothing, but it also needs its young wolves to live. Keep yourself alive. The families at the Wolf's Den will need your protection in the days to come."
From morning until noon, the Brigand Knights' mounted scouts followed them, but only at a distance. They harassed the column relentlessly, loosing a few wavering rounds of crossbow bolts before riding away again. Their shots could not reach anyone. It was merely a harassment tactic.
"I can smell battle coming!" Handsome said. "The scouts are only harassing us. Once their main force arrives, they'll surround us!"
They still had some distance to travel before reaching the sea. Ahead lay gentle hills and plains, ideal ground for a bloody battle.
Boom! Boom! Boom! War drums and horns had begun to sound. The combined force of brigand sellswords and runaway slaves appeared behind the Wolf Pack Company once more like a black storm cloud, looking down from a hill at their rear. Without the Fireweed estate's high walls and shelter, this battle would be more desperate and dangerous.
Gendry put on his helmet and iron mask, then tightened his grip on his spiked hammer!
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