"How was this year's harvest?" Handsome Man rode at the front with Steward Lev. The two were old friends.
"Much the same as every year. The yield hasn't changed. But some estates suffered insect infestations, cutting their Fireweed harvests in half, so we stand to make a fortune instead. That's why the magister sent for you! Once Fireweed prices soar, those brigand sellswords will grow even more reckless!"
"Gold is hard currency in the Disputed Lands!" Handsome Man remarked. "Fireweed and wine aren't bad, either!"
"Yes, and that is precisely why the magister is so uneasy. Fireweed isn't wheat or corn. It's worth as much as gold."
Gendry listened to their conversation. Sellswords loved gold above all else. Failing that, Fireweed and wine were their favorites.
Steward Lev had already arranged everything. The horses were sent to the stables, and all the sellswords headed to the manor hall. Hot water and warm meals awaited them.
Chapter 19: Slaves and the State of Affairs
Though the Firepowder Herb Estate looked plain from outside, its interior was elegant and tasteful. The craftsmanship of the Three Daughters was superb, and even Gendry could not help admiring it.
The sellswords followed their captain, Handsome Man, into the manor's reception hall. Beyond the steps lay a marble floor, while beautiful Myrish tapestries depicting hunts adorned the walls. The sellsword brothers sat on benches, while the steward and Handsome Man took the seats of honor.
Besides the elderly cooks, the food was served by male and female slaves whose eyes held no light. The Firepowder Herb Estate had several layers of walls, and storming fortifications was far harder than fighting in the field. Slaves could easily have been used to defend it. Yet the Myrmen preferred to trust sellswords rather than arm their slaves. Slaves outnumbered free people three to one in the Three Daughters, and Myrish nobles had to manage and use them carefully.
Waves of delicious aromas drifted over: smoked chicken, sea fish, fried pork chops, mushroom soup, and specialties from the Three Daughters, including Tyroshi garlic sausages and Myrish roasted snails. The drinks were just as impressive. There was Tyroshi pear brandy, Myr firewine and green wine, Pentoshi amber wine, and red and white wines from Lys—everything anyone could want.
"A toast, everyone!" Steward Lev said, rising. The slaves remained dull and vacant, like wooden figures stripped of their souls.
The courtyard filled with the clear clinking of cups. Half the men drank wine, while the other half drank juice. That was a rule of the Wolf Pack Company: someone always had to stay sober.
Gendry savored the delicacies before him. They truly tasted wonderful. He had never seen such a lavish feast. He still remembered going hungry as a child in King's Landing. Though he had never lacked food or clothing at the smithy, an apprentice's meals had never tasted this good.
"You've really spared no expense this time, old friend!" Handsome Man said.
"Only as I should!" the steward replied with a hearty laugh. Everyone ate their fill and thanked him for his hospitality.
"Gentlemen, we also have some beautiful slave girls to attend to you, if you wish!" The steward dropped another bombshell.
Cheers rose one after another. The Wolf Pack Company's sellswords were forbidden to rape, but the company did not interfere with their other relations.
"You really have spared no expense, old friend! It seems this assignment won't be simple!"
"Beyond the petty thieves who occasionally come stealing, there must be a greater threat?" Handsome Man asked quietly, getting straight to the point.
"You guessed correctly!" Steward Lev said in a low voice. "With Fireweed so expensive now, the magister fears another possibility besides robbery. Merchants hoarding Fireweed might hire men to destroy our estate. If they burn it down, prices will keep soaring!"
"But what about the Fireweed the magister hoarded himself?" Handsome Man asked.
"To prepare for the election year, the magister has already converted his old stock into gold. He must keep a firm grip on the Fireweed that remains."
... Elections in the Three Daughters were brutal contests of money and power. In Tyrosh, for instance, the ruler was called the Archon, and elections for that office were rife with threats and bribery. The Tyroshi considered this perfectly legitimate: if a candidate could not even bribe his way into office, how could he deserve to rule their city?
"Very well. Let's hope we can get through the next few months in peace!"
Once they had eaten and drunk their fill, the sellswords returned to their rooms one after another. Some went to find slave girls, while others went on watch.
"Your Highness, though the Disputed Lands are fertile, they are not a good place to establish yourself!" Maester Qyburn said softly after he and Gendry returned to their room.
"Tell me what you think, Master Qyburn!"
"The Disputed Lands lie between the Three Daughters. Neither they nor Volantis would readily tolerate an independent king there! And then there are all these troublesome pirates and sellswords. Each thinks himself extraordinary, and none would submit."
"The Ninepenny Kings managed it once!" Gendry said quietly.
"It would be too difficult. Besides, the Ninepenny Kings had merchants, sellswords, pirates, and a powerful army in the Golden Company. But we..." Qyburn trailed off thoughtfully. In their day, the Ninepenny Kings had indeed been formidable.
"Where there's a will, there's a way. I think the Ninepenny Kings failed to tap into an even greater source of strength!" A cold gleam flashed in Gendry's eyes. Freeing the slaves might well be an option. It would bring entirely new changes to the world.
"You mean freeing the slaves?"
Gendry nodded.
"That idea is madness, like unleashing the fires of hell! You cannot free slaves lightly!" Maester Qyburn was aghast. "Slaves are one of the foundations of world trade. Though the Seven Kingdoms have had no slaves for thousands of years, and the Old and New Gods abhor slavery, no king of Westeros has ever dared confront the greater half of the world that supports it. Even the Braavosi have done little beyond giving Pentos a thrashing. To oppose slavery means opposing the Three Daughters, Volantis, and Slaver's Bay!"
"Chaos brings new life. The only places where we can gain a foothold are the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands. Besides, this is only an idea. We have a long road ahead."
Qyburn fell silent in thought. Gendry's idea was madness, and no one had ever attempted it.
Then the old maester said, "I will do everything in my power to help you. May the day come when the world moves according to your will."
"But there may be another path open to you!" Maester Qyburn added mysteriously. "There is a certain exiled brother and sister who terrify the great men of King's Landing."
"You mean the Beggar King and his sister?"
"Yes!" Maester Qyburn nodded. "Though House Targaryen has lost its throne, many nobles still secretly curse King Robert as the Usurper and acknowledge the blood of the True Dragon."
"Let's leave that for later!" Gendry considered it. Building his own strength came first.
Though the idea was wild, a bastard and an exiled princess returning to Westeros truly could turn the realm upside down. But Daenerys and Viserys were well protected by the fat magister of Pentos, leaving him no opening.
"Come on, lad!" The following morning, on the training grounds at the Firepowder Herb Estate, Handsome Man told Gendry to raise his weapon. Handsome Man wielded his longsword with remarkable skill.
Gendry swung his hammer, every blow heavy and powerful.
The two traded blows across the sparring ground. Though no blood flew, their combat displayed the surging beauty of strength.
The blunted training hammer rang shrilly. Gendry seemed to enter a frenzy, hammering at Handsome Man again and again.
"Again!" Gendry roared, demanding faster, fiercer attacks from Handsome Man!
Handsome Man was drenched in sweat, and at last even his blunted sword shattered.
Gendry stood in the training ground, his armor dented by the blunt sword and his cloak torn to shreds.
"I yield!" Handsome Man spat out.
"Before long, I may have to give you my position!"
Shrill whistles and cheers rose around the square. "Iron Hammer! Iron Hammer!"
"My turn!" Another sellsword brother stepped forward. His nickname was Long Spear, and he wielded his spear with uncanny skill.
Chapter 20: Raiding and Counterattack (Please Keep Reading)
Once Fireweed ripened, it still had to be dried. The Wolf Pack Company would have to guard the estate for at least three months.
Standing on the long wall of Firepowder Herb Estate, Gendry surveyed the surroundings below. The night remained dark and drawn out, with stars twinkling overhead. Tonight, he and a portion of the sellswords were on watch. Long Spear and Morningstar were effectively his instructors, and their uncanny skill with their weapons had made him suffer plenty. Long weapons did, after all, have a certain advantage over short ones.
"Magister Karasso must be miserable. With this year's disastrous Fireweed harvest, his stored stock could have fetched a much more tempting price!" Long Spear grumbled. "That's why he has to protect this fertile estate. A shame it's so remote."
As a cash crop, Fireweed was subject to profits, losses, and fluctuations in supply. Many Firepowder Herb Estates had suffered disasters this year, driving prices up, yet Karasso had already sold off the stock accumulated over previous years. All he had left was the unripe crop on his estate.
"There's no good solution. Elections for Myr's magisters are a game of burning money! As a man of the Fireweed Guild, Karasso has to stand for election," Morningstar replied. Myr's magisters were generally nominated by the major guilds: the Carpet Guild, the Glassware Guild, the Fireweed Guild, and the Wine Guild.
Gendry listened to their grumbling. The power structures of the Free Cities differed from those of Westeros. Merchants held considerable sway, even above the nobles, and most magisters came from their ranks.
"Listen!" They heard a rumbling noise cutting through the night. Lights like fireflies appeared in the distance, and then they realized a large force was approaching.
"A fight's coming. Blood will spill! Ready, lad?" Long Spear asked Gendry before striking the alarm bell, its ringing carrying throughout the estate.
Gendry said nothing. He merely raised the cold mace in his hand.
Handsome Man climbed onto the wall moments later and surveyed the torchbearers. The ringing bells and blaring horns woke the entire wolf pack.
"Runaway slaves and brigand sellswords!" Handsome Man said. Runaway slaves also lived in the Disputed Lands, joining forces with brigand sellswords to raid estates.
Gendry watched the distant torchlight. These men had come to Firepowder Herb Estate for a shopping spree without paying a penny.
"Archers!" Handsome Man ordered. Thirty of his men mounted the high walls and readied their bows. Half used crossbows, while most of the rest wielded eastern double-curved bows made from horn and sinew. Only a few had great yew longbows. The estate's slaves also climbed onto the walls to prepare rolling barrels and hot oil.
Outside bowshot, the brigand sellswords and runaway slaves began shouting, "Listen up in there! Open the gates! Open them now!"
"Are you blind? This is the private estate of a magister of Myr!"
"Fuck your magister of Myr! This estate belongs to us now!" a robber knight shouted back defiantly.
"Who's your leader?" Handsome Man surveyed the crowd. There seemed to be several hundred of them.
"I am! Purplebeard of Crown Town." A man with vivid purple hair appeared in the torchlight, a faint gleam shimmering across his armor. He was tall, with the image of the Three-Headed God on his shield and ornate scrollwork on his fine steel armor. He revealed a fleshy face and pale, cunning eyes. "Open the gates. Perhaps we'll leave you some wealth! Otherwise, not one of you will live."
"I see no need! We are sellswords, after all, not brigands!" Handsome Man had barely finished speaking.
"Where is Crown Town?" Gendry asked.
"In the heart of the Disputed Lands. It's the Brigand Knights' lair. Years ago, nine outlaws, exiles, pirates, and sellsword captains—later known as the Band of Nine—gathered beneath the Crown Tree and formed an alliance, swearing to help one another fulfill their ambitions of conquering kingdoms."
"So you've rejected my kindness. You could have joined us and plundered more estates!" Purplebeard waved a hand. A spear flew from the firelight and shadows behind him, aimed at Handsome Man, but the captain was alert enough to dodge.
More spears followed. "Get down!" Handsome Man shouted. Most of the Wolf Pack Company's sellswords were experienced and ducked for cover. Only one or two unfortunate slaves failed to react in time. Spearheads pierced their throats and burst bloodily through their necks.
"Charge! Kill them all, and this estate is ours!" Purplebeard shouted, his voice cold. Outside the walls, armor, blades, spears, and shields clashed with a rolling clatter. Purplebeard's men were reluctant to take risks, for the runaway slaves behind them were poorly equipped. Then torches were hurled into the estate, seeking to kindle more tongues of flame.
The estate's steward had already made preparations. Some of the slaves scrambled to extinguish the torches thrown inside.
"Ladders! Send the runaway slaves up first!" Purplebeard ordered. The estate's walls were made of rough stone and were easy to climb. Fortunately, the Wolf Pack Company had dug a ditch outside them, making the enemy's task harder.
Whoosh! Whoosh! The Wolf Pack Company's bowstrings snapped with short, forceful twangs, and arrows flew. The runaway slaves in leather armor or vests had no way to evade them.
The enemy seemed endless. In the pauses between volleys, some finally managed to climb up. They seemed to come without end, scaling the walls. Gendry took up his warhammer. Every time he struck one man down or shoved him off, another rushed up in his place. One particularly nimble runaway slave reached the top, but Long Spear hurried over, his spear striking like a venomous snake and piercing the man.
Several runaway slaves tried to hack through the gate, but they lacked the strength and were shot dead instead.
Gendry caught a foul stench. Everywhere smelled of fire, iron, blood, and smoke. He saw an estate slave fall beside him, his face smashed to pulp by a mace.
"Long live the Wolf Pack Company! Ten men, with me! Good riders in full armor!" Handsome Man shouted. He glanced over the enemy. Purplebeard's men had neither siege engines nor reinforcements.
"Me!" Gendry followed Handsome Man downstairs, and they found their horses in the stables!
The steel-clad troop charged out of the estate and plunged into combat with Purplebeard's force.
Gendry raised his mace, looking like a bull-headed god. His newly polished horned helmet gleamed, its horns shining in the firelight.
Bang! The mace seemed to become part of Gendry himself. As he drove his horse onward, it struck unerringly at his enemies' weak points: throats, heads, or the joints in their armor.
Chapter 21: Warhammer and Storm
The Wolf Pack Company's tent-emblazoned banners still flew over the estate. Its knights charged out through a side gate, their armor making them look even more imposing. Longswords hung at their waists, clashing against their scabbards in a song of steel. Besides longswords, they carried spears, maces, or flails.
Purplebeard looked at the runaway slaves lying dead above and below the walls as though they were mere ants, his gaze cold as ice. "Seems the Wolf Pack Company really is as tough as the stories say!"
"Chief!" the paymaster behind Purplebeard muttered quietly. "Without siege engines, it'll be hard to wear them down and take this estate. It's the magister's most important asset, after all. It's heavily defended..."
"What are you afraid of?" Purplebeard said disdainfully. "He's only a magister. Don't we have a magister's backing too?"
"Wouldn't you agree, Lord Rust?" Purplebeard addressed a tall, thin man behind him, an ingratiating look on his face.
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