The salty breeze of the Narrow Sea pressed against the deck as the Old Pirate leaned forward, his weathered hands gripping the rail. Moonlight glinted on the waves, making the waters shimmer like restless steel.
"My old friend," he said with a sigh that carried both sincerity and frustration, "I truly advise you—don't go back to that hellhole Myr again. The waves in Myr are rising too high this time. They could drown all of you before you even set foot on land."
He tapped the sealed crates beside him.
"Take your gunpowder herb. Let Salado send you and your men somewhere safer—one of the islands, or even a Lysene dependency. You can enjoy life there, join the fun, make a fortune. The price of gunpowder herb is sky-high this year. This batch alone is enough to turn your fate around."
The Handsome Man smiled faintly, a smile that didn't hide the steel in his eyes.
"Thank you for your kindness, Salado. I know you love your purse, and I respect you for that. But I still love my oath more. And besides… Greybeard is also your friend."
"When I knew Greybeard, you were just a servant," Salado grumbled. "But that doesn't matter now. Friend or not, I cannot watch you walk into your death. The situation in Myr is extremely murky. Governor Kasu is likely to lose disastrously this time."
He poured himself a glass of strong, burning Lysene wine and drank it in one swallow.
"I'll be fine," the Handsome Man said firmly. "I am going to Myr."
"I swear, I admire the stubbornness of you Northerners," Salado muttered. "You are nothing like the people of the Free Cities. But stubbornness isn't always a virtue."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and relented.
"Fine. If you insist on going, then I'll wait for you along the coastline. But listen—if things fall apart in Myr, you'll need a route to escape."
"I understand."
"Then I'll need another reward," Salado said, eyes shining like a cat spotting fish. "A small fee. Another tenth of the gunpowder herb."
The Handsome Man clenched his jaw but nodded.
"Alright. You'll get it."
"Very well," Salado said with satisfaction. "But I won't wait long. Once we reach Myr, I can't linger without exposing my smuggling ship. Staying until the next morning will be too dangerous."
He extended his hand.
"Good luck, my old friend."
—
Arrival in Myr
Night settled across the sea like a heavy cloak. The smuggling ship Mead glided silently toward the rugged coastline of Myr. They docked at an inconspicuous harbor—an isolated cleft between two stone formations, where waves murmured softly against the shore.
What made this place special was something only smugglers knew: a narrow, secret tunnel carved into the rock behind the mountain. It connected directly to the outskirts of Myr city. Most smugglers used ladders, shadows, or collapsed walls to sneak into the city. But Salado, ever the master of his trade, had a tunnel—one carved at great risk and greater cost.
The Handsome Man led a team of seasoned fighters: Dick the Fletch, Longspear, Gendry, and several others. The rest stayed behind on Salado's ship, waiting for either a triumphant return or a desperate retreat.
"You two don't have to come," the Handsome Man said, glancing at Dick and Gendry. One was old, the other far too young.
Dick the Fletch only laughed—a rough, hollow sound.
"My soul died more than ten years ago," he said. "Killed by the Sword of the Morning and the White Bull. I died on the day the Brotherhood Without Banners fell in the Kingswood. I regret not being there—that regret has followed me like a ghost. The Seven Gods already granted me more years than I deserved. Let me spend them properly."
He raised his yew longbow.
"I'm content."
Gendry swung his mace with youthful eagerness.
"The team needs a young man. And besides—your face was sliced by a lion. Someone should be here to swing a hammer for you."
Dick patted his shoulder.
"Kid, keep your eyes sharp. I've taught you everything I can. Don't let a good sapling die too young."
—
Inside the Tunnel
The secret tunnel was cramped—barely wide enough for two people. The air smelled of damp earth and old salt. Those who were too tall had to stoop. Those too broad scraped their armor along the stone.
Transporting gunpowder herb through such a tunnel had always been difficult. But the Handsome Man's real concern wasn't the cargo—it was the city's fate. If Myr had already fallen… then Greybeard might have fallen with it.
After nearly an hour, they reached a point where faint air drifted down from above. A loose floor tile was pushed open. One by one, the men climbed into a dead-end alley in Myr's outer city.
The moment they emerged, they knew everything had changed.
—
Chaos in the Streets
"KASU IS DEAD!"
"THE PUBLIC ENEMY HAS FALLEN!"
Shouts echoed from every direction. Torches flickered like restless fireflies as citizens and soldiers rushed through streets soaked in panic.
Myr had descended into open chaos.
Governor Kasu's fall had unleashed frenzy. The City Watch and private guards seized the Kasu family's enormous wealth—docks, warehouses, goods, even slaves. When a governor fell in Myr, the victors swarmed like jackals, tearing apart everything left behind.
The Handsome Man listened carefully, filtering every distant cry, every clash of steel. His companions did the same.
The men concealed the Wolf Pack emblem on their chests. Here in Myr, mercenaries and adventurers flooded the streets. They blended into the crowd easily.
Dick carefully wrapped his Westerosi longbow—its design was unmistakable and could draw suspicion instantly.
"The situation is already bad," the Handsome Man muttered. "The enemy struck early. They destroyed Kasu before the gunpowder herb even arrived. They must have known his wealth. They must have planned this perfectly."
His eyes hardened.
"But what about Greybeard?"
A cold dread squeezed his chest. If Kasu had fallen, Greybeard—Kasu's protector—was almost certainly in grave danger.
Suddenly—
"KILL! KILL!"
The roar crashed through the street like thunder. A group of blood-soaked men burst into view, racing toward the city gate.
The Wolf Pack.
They were wounded, tired, and covered in blood—but alive. They must have come from the inner city, fighting desperately to escape.
Behind them, the Myr City Watch and hired mercenaries charged with raised crossbows, but none dared get too close. The Northerners were fearsome, their reputation unmatched. And the Wolf Pack carried the blood of the North.
Whoosh!
An arrow shimmered through the moonlight. Dick had already unwrapped his bow. The arrow pierced a pursuer through the throat, dropping him instantly.
"The Wolf Pack is here!"
Gendry roared, sliding on his iron mask. His presence was like a storm unleashed.
He swung his mace and charged forward to meet the collapsing line of enemies.
"Save them!" the Handsome Man ordered.
Dick's hands blurred with expert efficiency. Each arrow soared precisely, striking targets before they even realized death had found them. Crossbows clattered. Men fell.
Compared to crossbows, longbows had slower reload speeds—but range, accuracy, and killing power were unmatched. Especially in the hands of the greatest archer in Westeros.
The Wolf Pack men saw their allies and shouted back:
"The Wolf Pack is here! Hold your ground!"
Their cries shook the night like war drums.
Gendry reached them first. His mace smashed through steel and bone alike. The sound of impact echoed across the alley—crunching, brutal, decisive.
The Handsome Man joined the fray, moving with grim precision. His torch was gone; now he fought with steel alone.
Blood sprayed across the cobblestones.
Bodies slumped.
The gate loomed ahead like a final salvation.
The Wolf Pack, reunited at last, began pushing toward freedom.
The Handsome Man's heart pounded—not from fear, but from determination.
They had come to save Greybeard.
They had come to save their own.
They had come knowing Myr was already lost.
Tonight, they would carve their way out—or die on the stones of Myr.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)