"Pick up the pace!" Vargo Hoat ordered. "We'll find somewhere safe before making camp!"
The Black Goat banner flew high overhead as they came upon a broad road and a small hill.
"It's the wolf pups and those lowborn runaway slaves!" Commander Jaqpo spotted the shield wall already assembled across the road, its defenses made of oak shields and great slabs of timber. On the little hill to the left, longbowmen and crossbowmen were eager for battle.
Toot, toot! A shrill horn sounded, followed by the beating of war drums.
"Go! Hurry!" Jaqpo shouted.
"Sh-shut your mouth, Commander. If we want to live, our brothers-our brothers have to charge! Most of them are runaway slaves who've never seen blood." Hoat surveyed the mass of men and spotted the Free Army behind them. Their weapons and armor were clearly inferior: shabby, outdated mail and leather.
"Fine!" Jaqpo gritted his teeth. "We'll try one charge. I'll give you twenty Unsullied!"
A vicious gleam filled Captain Hoat's eyes. He personally led some of his men, twenty Unsullied, and the Free Mercenary knights into the charge. There was still a chance. Only a handful of the Wolf Pack Company were elite soldiers. If they could break the shield wall, those estate slaves who knew nothing but farming and growing Fireweed would scatter, handing them a decisive victory.
Whoosh! Whoosh! The longbowmen and crossbowmen unleashed their attack, shooting at those who dared charge alongside Hoat. But the Unsullied were well trained, and the crossbows lacked the range of the longbows. Amid the fumbling of many crossbowmen and the pauses between volleys, the Brave Companions still found openings.
"Watch out for the longbowmen! Break their formation if you want to win!" Hoat shouted. Several men beside him fell to arrows, and he barely dodged one himself. The enemy had marksmen, but he had no choice.
Bang! Bang! The Unsullied advanced in formation with spears and short swords, while the other mercenaries battered the shield wall with long axes, hoping to open a gap. Yet the Free Army's reserves seemed endless, keeping the line intact.
"Send in the infantry! The infantry!" Jaqpo saw the line wavering. The shield wall looked ready to collapse. The infantry pressed forward, and he ordered the free knights to advance as well, finally breathing a little easier. So much for the Wolf Pack Company. He could already taste the sweet fruits of victory. He would inherit his family's wealth and later be elected governor.
Then came shouting and screams. Fifty or sixty Heavy Knights burst from the woods on the right. A black knight led them, wearing a black helmet, a crude iron faceplate, and Black Scale Armor, with a morningstar in his hand. The knights surged like a flood toward the Brave Companions and the Unsullied.
Crunch! Gendry's morningstar smashed straight into a Free Mercenary's face, flattening it as blood streamed down.
"Long live the Wolf Pack!" "Long live the Wolf Pack!" The Wolf Pack Cavalry cheered as they joined the battle. Their Meteor Iron Hammers, great axes, and spears churned flesh, bone, and brains into a ghastly bloody mist.
Jaqpo's vision darkened. Glory and honor vanished. In that moment, he felt that nothing awaited him but defeat.
Chapter 39: Annihilating the Brave Companions (Please keep reading)
The storm had arrived. Gendry had unleashed a black tempest.
Gendry raised his morningstar, striking deftly to either side. Horses neighed as Long Spear led the rest of the Wolf Pack Company's cavalry forward alongside him. The Wolf Pack expertly cut apart the formation. None of the reckless men who had come to attack the shield wall escaped.
"Damn it! It's the Fireweed King!"
"It's the Wolf Pack Company's commander!" The Free Mercenaries from Myr cried out in fear. The lead wolf on horseback was a terrifying sight: tall and powerfully built, with deep blue eyes like azure seawater. His raised morningstar gleamed coldly, as though bearing a greeting from death itself. The mercenaries were no fools. They did not think their skulls were harder than those of Meereen's gladiators or the Unsullied.
"Run!" Jaqpo abandoned all concern for his battle formation, hurriedly leaving his splendid array behind to flee for his life. The moment he saw the Fireweed King, terror seized him. He felt like a coward, incapable of entering bloody battle again.
Protected by his remaining Unsullied and Meereenese gladiators, Jaqpo completely abandoned the vanguard encircled by the Wolf Pack's knights. Like a maddened horse, he led his mercenaries off the battlefield. The rear ranks scattered like frightened birds and beasts, leaving several hundred free knights, Brave Companions, and Unsullied in the vanguard to the Wolf Pack and the Free Army.
"Draw! Loose!" Black Billy and the Arrow Maker urgently directed the archers on the hill to unleash another volley at the Myrmen before the shield wall. Many horses screamed, whinnying wildly and rearing from side to side. Some crashed heavily to the ground, pinning Free Mercenaries who failed to dodge beneath them and sealing their fate.
While the shield wall still held, Gendry and his riders charged into the enemy.
One Free Mercenary bravely rushed at Gendry. Gendry swung his morningstar into the soldier's cheek, punching through his faceplate, bone, and blood. The mercenary fell instantly. But Gendry did not stop. His gaze remained fixed on the Brave Companions and the Unsullied. They were the strongest force, and he meant to smash the Myrmen's skulls.
Seeing the battle turn against him, Hoat immediately wheeled the Brave Companions around. The moment he turned, the entire attacking vanguard collapsed. All the free knights fled at once. Looking back, they discovered that Commander Jaqpo's reserves had already vanished. Only twenty Unsullied remained, pressing against the shield wall with short swords and spears.
Thump! Thump! The shield wall regained its solidity and advanced like a mass of rock. The Unsullied retreated step by step, yet kept their formation steady. They would fight to the death rather than flee, but there were only twenty of them. They could not possibly reverse the battle.
"Leave those foolish Unsullied alone. Kill Hoat and his rotten soldiers first," Gendry ordered. Long Spear immediately understood.
Hoat was far too conspicuous. His goat-shaped helmet made him instantly recognizable. He rode a black-and-white zebra, tall and gaunt as a rusty longsword. He also wore a goatee and a necklace strung with coins from the places where he had fought.
Hoat wore a black mail hauberk and lobster-shell steel gauntlets. Gendry charged at him with a roar, and Hoat hastily swung his longsword to parry. Gendry paid no heed to the defense. His first blow nearly knocked Hoat from his saddle, making him feel as though a boulder had crushed his arm.
"Boy, you little b-boy! I misjudged you!" Hoat roared. He began slashing at Gendry's head and shoulders. Morningstar and longsword clashed with the ring of steel. Hoat had fought many battles. Scoundrel and villain though he was, he possessed considerable battlefield experience. His sword strokes were vicious and deadly, his movements quick and agile. But against sheer strength, those advantages seemed of little use. Trapped in an ambush, he could not keep his attention fully focused.
Hoat stole a glance at the rest of the battlefield. He saw his comrades being slaughtered by the savage northerners. Their heavily armored knights crushed the Brave Companions and Free Mercenaries like an iron fist. Hoat hacked wildly with his longsword, only for Gendry's tough Black Scale Armor to stop it. Without Valyrian steel, most longswords could do little against a heavily armored knight.
"Die!" The fires of battle blazed between the black stag and the goat as the two mortal enemies met. Gendry attacked fiercely, finding the same rhythm he knew from forging iron and letting his strength flow through each blow. Strike after heavy strike, his hammer battered off Hoat's helmet, exposing his ugly, blood-covered face. Gendry saw Vargo Hoat's terror: his thin face, his goatee, his frightened eyes. Even a murderous monster knew fear when death approached.
"Forgive me, Black Goat God!" Hoat prayed fervently.
Crunch! Gendry smashed his hammer into Hoat's forehead, opening a wound deep enough to expose bone. Blood, brain matter, and bone fragments burst outward, a horrible red mist blooming over the battlefield. Hoat toppled, utterly dead. His poor zebra, now riderless, neighed until an arrow pierced it.
"Hoat is dead!" "Hoat is dead!" Gendry shouted, his voice ringing like iron across the battlefield. The remaining mercenaries collapsed like an avalanche, running in blind, frantic confusion. Commander Jaqpo had already fled, and now Hoat was dead.
"You killed the captain, you madman!" Shagwell the Jester charged out from some corner. He wore a motley of green and pink over chain mail. The Jester loved cruel jokes, and his weapon was a Three-Headed Flail.
The Jester swung his weapon with a fierce whistling rush. Gendry swung his morningstar again, but the Three-Headed Flail wrapped around it.
Delighted at the sight, the Jester cried, "Die, wolf pup!" He drew a black dagger and tried to thrust it into a gap in Gendry's armor.
Whoosh! Gendry released his morningstar. He still had an Arakh on him. The curved blade whistled sharply and sliced off the Jester's head in a single stroke. At last, the jester who loved cruel jokes could say nothing more.
"Kill all the Brave Companions!" "Kill all the Brave Companions!"
"Long live the Wolf Pack!" "Long live the Wolf Pack!"
The Wolf Pack Company's knights charged again and again like a Steel Fist, until they were certain every encircled enemy had been destroyed.
The Brave Companions bore the full brunt of the assault. This company of criminals and scum had reached its end. Like iron hammers, the knights crushed the battlefield, plowing through it over and over.
"We surrender!"
"We surrender!" The Free Mercenaries threw down their weapons. They regretted accepting this contract. The pay had been generous, but it would cost them their lives.
Chapter 40: The Red Viper Arrives
Gendry dismounted and picked up his blood-soaked morningstar.
"A morningstar really does the job! With enough strength behind them, blunt weapons are devastating on a battlefield. One made of Valyrian steel would be even better!" Gendry wiped the blood from his morningstar on the Jester's brightly colored robes. Around him lay only corpses, not a single living soul.
The Black Goat banner was hacked to pieces. Members of the Brave Companions lay scattered across the ground. These butchers, criminals, and scum had ended as corpses on a bloody battlefield. The Wolf Pack Company's knights rode back and forth, their warhorses trampling while spears and morningstars whistled through the slaughter. Brave Companions fell beneath them, along with a few reckless free knights.
The battle was largely over. Only the Long Spear Shield Formation continued its slow advance, completely hemming in the Unsullied. Of the original twenty, only fifteen remained. They were like a little boat upon a vast sea of war, yet they had no intention of turning back.
Long Spear led the Wolf Pack Company's knights to Gendry's side. They reined in their horses and looked at their commander. Age and seniority mattered in a commander, but strength mattered more. Northerners revered the strong.
"We've won, Commander! Apart from the Myrmen commander and the rear troops who fled with him early, we've swallowed up everyone!" Long Spear told him. The spike on his helmet had broken off, but fortunately he was unharmed. The knights eyed the surrounded Unsullied eagerly.
Steel Fist also led the infantry and the Free Army across the battlefield, clearing up and making the surrendered Free Mercenaries disarm. They stripped every usable coin, piece of armor, and weapon from the Brave Companions. None of it could be wasted.
Thump! Thump! Only a circular shield wall remained, completely surrounding the Unsullied. They awaited a single order. At their commander's command, they would kill every last one.
"Let them go," Gendry said.
"Commander! The Unsullied fight to the death. They never surrender!" Steel Fist hesitated before speaking. "Letting them go could leave us trouble later."
"Let them go. They're slaves who had no choice either," Gendry said. "If we open a gap and they still attack us, then I won't show any mercy!"
"Yes!" The shield wall slowly opened, and the Free Army surrounding the Unsullied cleared a path. The fifteen survivors stood bewildered, still holding their shields and spears. They had taken many blows and were bloodied, battered, sweaty, and hopeless. But the Unsullied could endure pain. Without mortal wounds, they could bear it all.
"Freedom! You're free now too!" Gendry called to the Unsullied. "The Myrish commander has fled, and the Brave Companions have been wiped out. You can choose to fight us to the death, or return to Myr."
"Freedom!" "Freedom!" The Unsullied leader, whose helmet bore two spikes, froze for a moment. Then he approached Gendry with his black shield and spear. He laid them down and dropped to one knee before him.
The first Unsullied shouted the word, and the others followed one after another, kneeling to Gendry. Freedom was the finest, most beautiful word they had ever heard.
Gendry accepted the Unsullied's allegiance, then embraced their leader. "My friend, from this day on, you can have names of your own." He allowed them to elect their own officers and abolished the rule that made them use a new, randomly chosen name each day.
"Cut off the Brave Companions' heads and mount them on spears!" Gendry issued his second order. The Brave Companions had been annihilated, but these scum still deserved severe punishment.
The Wolf Pack Company's knights set to work, joined by the newly enlisted Unsullied. They found new homes for the dead Brave Companions' heads. Vargo Hoat, who loved chopping off people's limbs; Septon Utt, who loved abusing children; the murderous Jester-all their heads were mounted on long poles to greet the howling wind, and perhaps the crows in days to come.
The Free Mercenaries surrendered in droves. Gendry swept his gaze over the battlefield. The defeated mercenaries did not even dare raise their heads to look at him.
"You have a few choices. You can surrender to me, but you must obey the Wolf Pack's military discipline. Your second choice is to leave, after giving up your armor and weapons-and paying a ransom!" Gendry ordered.
The mercenaries remained where they were, considering their options. Whatever they decided, they no longer dared defy Gendry's orders.
Victory is sweet, but it would be better if we could make it more complete, Gendry thought as he surveyed the ruined battlefield. With more longbowmen, more knights, and a stronger assault force, I could have wiped out this entire Myrish army.
The Myrmen campaign ended in a crushing defeat. The Brave Companions, hired at great expense, fell into an ambush and were annihilated. Only the commander returned, bringing the battered remnants of his army.
Panic gripped the Myrish, and their governors began considering a larger offensive.
The Wolf Pack Company and the Free Army now occupied a corner of the Disputed Lands. Centered on the Firepowder Herb Estate, their territory encompassed a substantial stretch of land and coastline. Beyond the estate slaves, many runaway slaves who had previously fled deep into the Disputed Lands also came to join the Wolf Pack Company.
Gendry stood on the shores of the Narrow Sea. Far across the water lay his homeland, Westeros. The great hand of fate had brought him here.
Grey Wolf followed Gendry, guarding him. He was the leader of the surviving Unsullied, and explained where his name had come from. "The name I was given at birth was cursed, so I was forced into slavery. But Grey Wolf was a fine name I thought of on the day the Liberator freed me."
"Your Highness, there are two pieces of news you may find interesting!" The elderly Maester Qyburn approached.
"I hope they're pleasant news!"
"The first concerns an alliance. The commander of the Cat Company wants to join forces with us to attack and sack Myr."
"Bloodbeard?" Gendry recalled the man. "Our ranks don't accept scum. His reputation stinks, and brigand mercenaries are difficult to control." Such mercenaries wanted nothing beyond burning, killing, and plundering. Gendry wanted something different: to possess this land. Besides, he already stood as a liberator of slaves. With so many runaway slaves available, there was no need to associate with a foul brigand like Bloodbeard.
Bloodbeard was a loud, savage brute, tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick beard, fiery red whiskers, and a long braid. Cruel and bloodthirsty by nature, he lusted after glory, treasure, and women.
"But simply refusing Bloodbeard might anger that idiot. Contact the Windblown! They happen to have a feud with his company."
"There is also a very distinguished visitor whom you may need to receive in person!" Master Qyburn wore a peculiar expression.
"Who?" Gendry asked.
"The Red Viper, Prince Oberyn of Dorne!"
Chapter 41: The Stag and the Red Viper
"Welcome, Prince Oberyn!" Outside the Firepowder Herb Estate, Gendry took in his visitor's appearance. This might be the first great personage to visit the estate.
Oberyn rode a coal-black horse with a fiery red mane and tail. The animal was slender and agile, with a slim neck and a narrow, elegant head. Its rider was graceful, tall, and lean, seeming almost one with his mount. These renowned horses born in Dorne's deserts were smaller than northern horses and could not bear a full suit of heavy armor, but their endurance was astonishing. They were said to run for two days and a night without tiring.
"Dorne's mighty men are as countless as its sands, yet this man stands above them all!" Gendry praised him. The Red Viper truly did cut an imposing figure.
Pale red silk robes fluttered from the Red Viper's shoulders. Overlapping copper plates adorned his shirt, gleaming like thousands of bright new pennies when he rode. A copper sun decorated the front of his tall gilded helmet. A round shield hung behind his saddle, its polished surface bearing House Martell's sigil: the Golden Spear Sun-Piercer.
"The lead wolf's name also makes the Myrmen tremble! What should I call you? Commander, Liberator, Fireweed King, or Iron King? I don't even know your name. Let me see your face!"
The Red Viper removed his helmet, revealing a long, melancholy face. Beneath thin, arched brows, his large eyes shone dark as pools of oil. His brow and nose were equally sharp, and only a few silver strands threaded his glossy black hair. He was a Salt Dornishman through and through.
"A name is only a label, especially for a mercenary. Call me Warhammer! As for my appearance, it's merely a face. I trust the prince isn't so shallow." Gendry bowed, then began introducing his company to the Red Viper. The man had actually come alone. His courage certainly matched his skill.
"Allow me to introduce my company. This is Handsome Man, the Wolf Pack Company's treasurer and my adviser. This is Master Qyburn, our physician and my maester. This is Dick the Bowmaker, our archery instructor and my adviser. This is Long Spear, commander of my riders. This is Steel Fist, commander of my infantry. This is Black Billy, from the Summer Isles, commander of my archers. This is Grey Wolf, captain of my guard." Gendry listed his companions' titles. Naturally, none carried the renown of the Red Viper's.
"Thank you for making the long journey, Prince. Please come inside with us and rest a while."
"With pleasure!" the Red Viper replied.
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