The Conqueror of Myr

"King of the Narrow Sea?" Gendry savored the moniker. A king of the Narrow Sea might sound appealing to others, but now, he was going to be the sole ruler of the Narrow Sea, the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, and the Triarchy.

"King of the Narrow Sea is hardly a fresh title!" Maester Qyburn said. "A king of the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones has appeared many times in history!"

"This crown is not so easy to take. Once the Three Daughters are taken, the title might finally ring true."

"Such a rare opportunity!" Gendry thought. Right now was a prime window of opportunity, with the Triarchy of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh dissolved, and the Ironborn and Dornish recovering from the trauma of war, leaving them with no time to look east. He needed to swallow the Stepstones completely, which would also lock down the maritime routes of Myr and Tyrosh.

Gendry looked at the pirates on the black ship. These pirates had previously been Westerosi, Lyseni, Tyroshi, and Myrmen, but now their only identity was pirates. The pirates knelt on the ground and begged for mercy, at this moment like lambs waiting for slaughter. Yet remembering their past of pillaging populations and robbing travelers, no one would easily forgive them!

"Tell Harris, tell our fleet, to split into two paths. One part will continue to cruise the Narrow Sea, starving out Bloodstone Island and Grey Gallows Island, and watch out for support from the Lyseni fleet. The other fleet will immediately head for Myr Bay; I have already given the Myrmen plenty of chances!" Gendry issued his command.

Trebuchets could completely crush Myr, but for Gendry, that would lose much of its meaning. Overwhelming violence would unite the Myrmen, the archons of the other free cities, and the citizens in shared hatred; besides, he also wanted an intact craft city of Myr.

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

"And you!" Gendry looked at those surrendered pirates. "The time has come for you to pledge your loyalty to me now. My fleet will attack Myr from the sea, and you are the vanguard! You are all men who make a living on the sea-do not let me down, and there will be a share of the spoils for you."

It would be somewhat wasteful for these pirates to simply die completely; it was better to make them serve some purpose by attacking Myr.

"We are willing to join the Wolf Pack Fleet!"

"We are willing to serve the Commander-in-Chief!"

The pirates looked into Gendry's deep, pretty blue eyes, but no one mustered the courage to resist. After all, the hardiest pirates had already been killed by the Fireweed King and his Unsullied guards.

Hearing these words, the pirates felt like they were on a roller coaster; it seemed that even though they had been granted a path to survival, they were still plunging into a web of difficulties. Yet compared to the fate of being hanged or thrown into the sea, these pirates were still willing to take a gamble.

The city of Myr, an artisan metropolis adorned and built of white marble, was currently gripped by panic.

"Myr is about to perish!" wailed many archons. Most of the Myrmen archons, slave masters, and patrician classes had entrenched themselves within the inner city, no longer trusting the ordinary Myrmen and Myrmen slaves of the outer city. This was also to escape the increasingly fierce slave uprisings now rippling through the city of Myr, rendering the Myr City Watch practically powerless to turn the tide.

Many of Myr's archons could only rely on their own citizen militias and hired mercenaries. A few shrewder Myrmen archons had already fled with their families and valuables to Pentos or Lys.

"Bloodbeard is dead! The Titan's Bastard is dead!"

"The Cat Company has been wiped out, and the Long Spear Company has defected! The Windblown dare not take the contract, and the Golden Company is unwilling to take it!"

The Myrmen archons received nothing but bad news. Ever since the corpses of Bloodbeard, the Titan's Bastard, and the Dead Governor were sent back to Myr, the Myrmen archons had constantly lived in a state of breakdown and helplessness. They were terrified, terrified of sinking into such a fate. They panicked, terrified that there was no longer a correspondingly formidable military force. The Myrmen were willing to spend money, but the Golden Company-the only ones capable of a fight-had chosen to play dead, seemingly mixing in with the Wolf Pack Company.

Standing upon the ramparts, the Myrmen could see the towering silhouettes of the "Three Whores of the Wolf Pack" standing tall on the eastern side of the city. These three giant Trebuchets had originally been intended for attacking the wolves, but unexpectedly, they had turned around to become weapons for attacking Myr. A stretch of the Valyrian Road extended out from Myr, and the Trebuchets were placed right upon it.

Surrounding the "Three Whores of the Wolf Pack" was the tight encampment of the Free Army, laid out with neat precision and in perfect order. Trenches had been dug around the military camp, lined with sharp wooden stakes; rows of tents stood within, leaving wide pathways clear. High upon tall poles around the camp fluttered banners-the flags of the Free Army-while soldiers clad in armor, wielding long spears and crossbows, patrolled back and forth around the perimeter. Other Free Army soldiers patrolled the remaining two sides of the Myrmen city.

"Myr has been surrounded on three sides!" This was news understood by every Myrmen. The wolves and the Free Army had captured the Disputed Lands and all the towns and manors tributary to the Myrmen. Transport vessels coming by sea to Myr were also dwindling, forcing the Myrmen to face the agony of a siege and food shortages. The Myrmen slave masters prayed for assistance from the Tyroshi, Lyseni, Pentoshi, or even the Volantenes, but never waited for any hope.

"The sea!" "There is a fleet on the sea!"

"Our reinforcements have come!" Myrmen lookouts spotted the black specks appearing on the sea, the silhouettes of the ships slowly becoming distinct. These warships were smaller than ordinary men-of-war and varied in size.

The Myrmen wept tears of joy, believing that their appeals for help over these past days were finally bearing fruit. The Myrmen had appealed to all quarters: Tyrosh, Lys, Volantis, and even Pentos and Valyria.

The Myrmen were shouting and yelling in excitement at first, but gradually the Myrmen slave masters began to grow terrified, as if seeing White Walkers appear in Myr. The flags of the fleet were not the ones they anticipated; they were neither the Three-Headed God of Tyrosh nor the Love and Beauty of Lys, nor the Tigers of Volantis. The fleet's banner was the grey-white wolf pack, the Free Army Banner breaking shackles.

"The Tyroshi! What are the Tyroshi doing?"

"The wolf pack's fleet slipped past the Tyroshi patrols. They must have occupied the Stepstones, or Tyrosh has already surrendered."

"Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!" Horns sounded once more from within the Free Army's grand camp outside the city. The Trebuchets attacked Myr's defenses sparingly; more often, they launched propaganda leaflets.

"Long live the Free Army!" "Long live the Free Army!" Shouts like thunder rolled from outside the city of Myr as the Free Army soldiers charged out of their tents, led by Steel Fist and the Grey Wolf. The Trebuchets operated in tandem, like the final judgment upon Myr's fate.

The soldiers of the Wolf Pack Company launched a joint assault on the Myrmen from both land and sea.

The ship carrying Gendry smoothly entered the harbor. In the calm of Myr Bay, few Myrmen warships dared to rush out from the docks, and those that did were overwhelmed and destroyed through sheer numbers. Because the Myrmen warships also employed numerous slaves, the combat effectiveness of those slaves could not be trusted now. Aside from the warships that fled under the guise of seeking reinforcements, all remaining Myrmen warships were captured by Gendry's Wolf Pack Fleet.

"Fine warships! My grand fleet has finally taken shape!" Gendry looked at the Myrmen warship fleet under control on the docks. The scale of the Myrmen warships was ultimately something his motley fleet could not match in quality. But regardless, he now possessed a much more luxurious fleet.

The city of Myr was like a boiling cauldron. Amidst the clamor, the slaves overturned the old order and ushered in an even larger uprising. Some slaves picked up weapons and began to storm the Myr City Watch, taking revenge on the Myrmen slave masters who had squeezed them dry.

With the help of the slaves, some of Myr's city gates were even forced wide open.

"The inner city has fallen!"

"The inner city has fallen! The Second Sons opened the gates."

Then came an even more explosive piece of news: the Second Sons had flipped sides once again, this time helping the Wolf Pack Company open the gates to the inner city of Myr.

Chapter 59: The Conqueror of Myr

Boundless azure sky, blue ocean, gorgeous white city, the gates of Myr wide open. Upon the sea lay an endless expanse of warships; though varying in size, they had completely blockaded the Myrmen coast.

Grey-white banners fluttered, and all clamor quieted the moment exuberant knights set foot within the city. Steel Fist had already led a detachment of entering Free Army soldiers to maintain order in Myr, joined by the Second Sons led by Brown Ben.

Gendry rode upon a Dornish steed, gazing at this lovely city. Myr, the city of artisans among the Three Daughters.

Behind Gendry rode five hundred of the most elite wolf pack knights, the soldiers uniformly clad in black plate armor like a forest of dark steel. Following them were the knights of the Long Spear Company, whose equipment and aura were slightly inferior to the Wolf Pack Cavalry. Behind them came the infantry of the wolf pack and the Free Army.

"Long live freedom! Long live the Commander-in-Chief!" The slaves raised deafening cheers, welcoming the arrival of the liberator as their figures flooded the streets of Myr. Yet very few of the Myrmen patricians and archons came out to greet them; those who could flee fled, and those who could hide hid. In Myr, the ratio of slaves to freefolk was roughly between three-to-one and four-to-one. No matter how one counted, the slave population held the majority.

"Do not damage those fine workshops and docks-that would be waste. As for those who pillage or rape amid the chaos, I hope not to hear of such things!" Gendry said to Long Spear riding beside him.

"Yes, Commander-in-Chief!" Long Spear acknowledged the order, taking some Free Army soldiers with him. During the days Myr was under siege, order had collapsed, and indeed there had been incidents of bandits, robbery, and murder. Many of the wandering mercenaries and rioting slaves were extremely ferocious. However, with the main army entering the city, order was quickly restored, and these opportunists were swiftly purged.

Maintaining order came first; in this era, the military discipline of soldiers was often a mixed bag at best. The discipline of Tywin or the northern lords was considered poor, with Tywin fond of letting his pack of hounds loose to ravage enemy lands. The two military commanders who demanded relatively strict discipline were Stannis and Randyll Tarly.

Order was handled by Steel Fist, intelligence by Maester Qyburn, the tallying of wealth by Handsome Man, and the control of the fleet by Captain Harris-a well-trained division of labor.

"My army, my iron! They ought to be disciplined, and steadfast!" Gendry thought. The wolf pack's military discipline was good, and as for the Free Army soldiers-who came from the oppressed lower classes-establishing their discipline was still far easier than managing those hardened army ruffians and mercenaries.

"Brown Ben, you led the Second Sons to bear humiliation and shoulder heavy burdens; your merit is not small!" Gendry looked down at Brown Ben kneeling on one knee, saying with clear appreciation. The Second Sons had curried favor with the Myrmen archons, only to throw open the defenses at the crucial moment and invite the wolf pack into the city.

"I am the Commander-in-Chief's loyal subordinate, and dare not claim credit!" Brown Ben felt terrified. In the face of the grand momentum, these five hundred flip-flopping Second Sons mercenaries were no match at all. Before absolute power, schemes and calculations were utterly insignificant.

"You have done very well. Next, I hope you will continue to take part in the garrison work of Myr; you understand the Myrish Old Nobility!"

"Yes!" Brown Ben felt as though White Walkers' icy fingers were brushing against his spine. Maintaining Myrmen order and exterminating the old nobility faction was a thankless job that made enemies. But he had already thoroughly alienated the Myrmen, and now he could only walk this dark path to the end.

"Enter the city!" Gendry raised his riding crop. Myr was the first city he had conquered. Entering the city did not mean achieving complete victory; those Myrmen nobles plotting restoration were still lurking in the shadows.

The reality was that Myr was fractured, with many of the old archons having already fled; the Myrmen regime was like withered leaves swept away by an autumn wind.

Following the flight of the Myrmen exiled nobility, there were quite a few vacant residences and manors within the city of Myr. Gendry established the command headquarters of the Wolf Pack Company in the Archon's Palace, a beautiful white manor.

In the splendid council chamber of the Archon's Palace, Gendry was discussing governance strategies for Myr with the white-haired Qyburn. Myr was the first major city Gendry controlled, and Myr's administrative order would later be propagated to other cities.

"Conquering Myr is only the first step; the key is long-term rule over Myr," Gendry said to Qyburn.

"Short conquests are meaningless; enduring conquest is true governance!" The white-haired Qyburn lapsed into a memory. The Three Daughters had all been conquered after the Century of Blood, yet every time they had regained their independence. The Lyseni and Myrmen had once been ruled by Volantis for two generations, and in more recent times, Tyrosh had been ruled by Silver Tongue Aegis for seven or eight years during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

"Destruction brings rebirth. Since accommodating the Myrmen archons cannot bring peace, it is better to forge a new order. Rely upon freed slaves, petty citizens, and strike down the slave traffickers and archons!" This was the world Gendry envisioned. Once the slave system was abolished, naturally many people would hitch themselves to his chariot.

"What worries me most is the shift in the international situation," Qyburn said. "Every time a force attempts to seize the Three Daughters, other forces invariably oppose them. Back in the day, Braavos, Pentos, and even the Stormlands opposed Volantene expansion. And by overthrowing the slave system, our most worrisome adversary is Volantis, while Tyrosh and Lys are all the closer."

"Prepare for war on one hand, and restore Myr's vitality on the other," Gendry stated his design. "I shall reorganize Myr's power structure. There will be no Archon Assembly; we will elevate the power of the council, stuffing it with escaped slaves, Myrmen artisans, and utterly submissive merchants. Myr shall have no archon; I shall serve as the Interim Ruler governing Myr!"

"Ruler!" Qyburn pondered. "The name is not bad at all-one hears it and understands the meaning instantly!"

What Gendry designed was that of a ruler, with a coronation to follow; until Lys and Tyrosh were broken, difficulties would remain.

A net hauled in full of big fish! Commander-in-Chief!" While the two men were conferring, Harris, the naval commander of the wolf pack, walked in and said cheerfully, "One hundred and forty ships of the Myr Fleet are still in the harbor, and they are now ours for the taking. Only seventy were carried off by the fleeing archons!"

"Which means we are now a hegemon of Narrow Sea power!" Gendry remarked.

"Indeed, Commander-in-Chief! Taken together, our warships form a force of considerable heft," Harris explained. "Once Westeros recovers its vitality, the ironborn's Iron Fleet is around a hundred ships, and by making every ironborn a warrior, scraping together more warships isn't an issue. Meanwhile, the Redwyne Fleet numbers two hundred, and the Royal Fleet is about two hundred and ten."

The one hundred and forty large vessels of the Myr Fleet, plus two hundred miscellaneous smaller fishing and combat craft of all sizes from the Stepstones, not to mention Myr's correspondingly vast number of transport ships, cargo vessels, and merchantmen—in terms of maritime power, the wolf pack's naval strength had grown immensely.

Chapter 60: Meeting Daenerys

Gendry's residence was located on the coast of Pentos, rising with seven towers whose soaring brick walls were blanketed in pale ivy. The Pentoshi were eager to bestow gifts upon powerful guests, akin to a "tribute." The Pentoshi believed that sending gold and gifts was far more sensible than launching a war.

Past courtyards had been gifted to khals, but this courtyard was gifted to the newly risen mercenary king of Myr. Since the fat man was footing the bill, Gendry had not refused.

Inside the hall, the air was fragrant with the scents of firepepper, cinnamon, and sweet lemon. Gendry, Jorah, and his several Unsullied guards were escorted into the reception parlor, where stained-glass mosaics depicted the Doom of Valyria. Outside the hall stood numerous soldiers of the wolf pack and the Free Army.

"These cheese-mongers have nothing except money!" Jorah vented bitterly. Gendry understood his resentment; Jorah's wife had previously run off with a wealthy Lyseni merchant, and Jorah despised the merchants of such Free Cities.

"Though we haven't met the exiled Targaryen princess yet, she must surely be an absolute beauty of unearthly loveliness," Jorah praised.

"Not to be harsh, but if you changed your attire, perhaps the lasses would like you more!" Gendry quietly reminded him. Jorah was getting on in years, around forty-some, and though his hair was gradually thinning, his physique remained robust. He refused to wear silk or cotton garments, opting instead for wool and leather, with a dark green doublet embroidered with a black bear rampant.

"This has always been my style, Commander-in-Chief. Can't a good woman look past material appearances?" Jorah replied.

Gendry was slightly speechless; some people were beyond saving. If a man was old and bald, and possessed the stubborn, unyielding personality of a northerner, he indeed wouldn't have much luck with women.

The oil in the black lanterns on all four walls burned incessantly. Beneath an arcade carved with double stone leaves, a eunuch loudly announced their arrival, crying out in a high-pitched, sweet voice, "The Narrow Sea, the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, sole ruler of Myr, Commander-in-Chief of the Wolf Pack Company and the Free Army, Lord Warhammer."

Following the eunuch's announcement, all sound fell still. The guests turned as one, laying eyes upon a tall, athletic warrior. Gendry carried no warhammer; instead, he bore an peerless Valyrian steel arakh.

"Such a variety of gazes!" Gendry thought. Among the crowd were assassins and mercenaries from Pentos and Tyrosh, a red priest even fatter than Illyrio, a hairy freak from the port of Ibben, and several Summer Isles lords whose skin was as dark as dark sandalwood. Gendry swept past them; Pentos truly lived up to its name as a grand commercial port. Some individuals in the courtyard were Dothraki khals-Illyrio had not invited the most powerful Khal Drogo, but rather invited several other khals. Each of them was tall of stature, with reddish-brown skin; their drooping long beards were linked ring by ring with metal hoops, and their long black hair was jet-black and glossy, braided into countless queues with silver bells suspended amidst them.

The red priest looked on with curiosity, while the Tyroshi wore expressions of fear and hatred. Myr and the Stepstones were far too close to Tyrosh; the Tyroshi faced the most immediate threat. As for the Dothraki, their expressions were a mix of bellicosity and curiosity.

"There is but one fire in all the world, and that is the light of R'hllor!" No one lingered to chat with Gendry, save for the fat red priest who stepped forward to accost him.

"We are here to see the princess; what are you babbling on about?" Gendry signaled with his hand, and Jorah glared rudely at the red priest, causing the latter to stalk away crestfallen. These red priests of R'hllor were all fanatical, and Gendry had no interest in exchanging pleasantries with them.

Not long passed before dozens of able-bodied men jointly hoisted a litter, carrying Illyrio and the Targaryen siblings into the courtyard. Two servants carrying exquisitely decorated oil lamps with pale blue glass covers walked ahead.

When the curtains were pulled back, the principals finally made their entrance. A Free Army soldier helped Daenerys out of the litter, followed by her elder brother Viserys, who carried a borrowed sword. The fat man Illyrio also dismounted his litter with the assistance of several attendants.

"Viserys III of House Targaryen," the master eunuch cried in a high-pitched, sweet voice, "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone, 'Stormborn'. His patron, Illyrio Mopatis, Archon of the Pentos Free City."

The three of them crossed past the eunuch and walked into the courtyard of colonnades where pale ivy crawled everywhere, the leaf shadows stained by moonlight into bone-white silver.

Daenerys stepped into the courtyard with trepidation, understanding that today was a transaction-her brother and Archon Illyrio were selling her to a mercenary king. She was also the only female present.

"By the pillar is Moro Khal and his son Rogoro, and the green-bearded one is the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh," Illyrio introduced to them.

"And more importantly, little princess: the mercenary king! Mercenaries may go by many names, but he is Warhammer—you may also call him the Ruler and the Commander-in-Chief!" Illyrio introduced Gendry to Daenerys. "Behind the king is his guard, Ser Jorah Mormont! An exiled knight from Westeros!" Aside from Ser Jorah Mormont, the mercenary king was flanked by those Unsullied clad in black leather armor.

Daenerys took great interest in Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight hailing from her homeland of Westeros. But her interest was drawn far more to the mercenary king, and she timidly appraised the man Viserys hoped to win over—the man who would demand to take her as his wife before the feast concluded.

The stories Daenerys had heard were all true. The mercenary king was very tall, yet his movements were extraordinarily brisk and light, his athletic physique rivaling a hunting leopard in a menagerie. The mercenary king's cropped, charcoal-black hair was like the long night, while his eyes were as blue as the ocean-a pair of resolute, unyielding eyes. Unfortunately, the king's face was concealed behind a crude iron mask, preventing her from seeing his full features. Yet Daenerys felt he could not be very old, for within those eyes perhaps still lingered some hidden warmth belonging to a young man.

"I will go state our intentions!" Illyrio said. "I will bring him over."

"A true beauty indeed." Gendry was likewise gazing at Daenerys. Daenerys was petite and breathtakingly lovely, possessing silver-gold hair and violet eyes. She was the last scion of the Targaryen line, the blood of the True Dragon.

Gendry awaited Illyrio's approach. The fat man waddled tremblingly to his side, stretching out his jewel-adorned fat fingers. The alliance between the fat man and Varys surely knew his background, but the fat man did not know that he understood the whole picture-and that was his advantage. "Respected Ruler, please follow me; I am most delighted to facilitate this match!"