Under the banner of the Golden Company, its knights charged onto the battlefield, striking from behind at Bloodbeard's Cat Company and the Free Mercenaries led by the Myr. The Golden Company's war elephants played a particularly crucial role.
Bloodbeard and the Myr's offensive quickly collapsed, and the Free Mercenaries fled in panic. The Spear Regiment and the Second Sons both surrendered to the Wolf Pack and turned their blades on the Cat Regiment and the Myr.
On the hilltop, the high-ranking commanders of the Golden Company gathered together, watching the ever-changing tide of battle. The arrival of the Golden Company had completely sealed the Cat Company's fate.
Each spear around them was topped with a gilded skull. One skull was unusually large and grotesque, though the head beneath it was only the size of a child's fist—it belonged to the ferocious Maris and his unnamed brother. The other skulls were less remarkable, save for the ones that had been smashed open or bore rows of unnaturally sharp teeth.
"They fought beautifully! The Wolf Pack's elite troops are formidable—just like those Northerners. I didn't expect they could train runaway slaves so well," said Golis Edoyin, the treasurer of the Golden Company and a Valantene.
Lansono Mar, the intelligence officer from Lys, added, "Bloodbeard may be rude and bloodthirsty, but he's not useless. That man has some skill. His harassment, flanking maneuvers, and use of cavalry are all quite adept. Even without our help, he was doomed. Still, he has the ability to work with us."
"Your ideas are too risky," sighed Harry Strickland, the Homeless Commander. He was the leader of the Golden Company but feared war. Homeless Harry did not look like a warrior—he was obese, with a large, round head, pale gray eyes, and sparse hair combed over his balding scalp. "What good are a few slaves when the liberators, the slave owners, and the governors come rushing in from all sides? When the enemies of this boy—the slave owners and governors—arrive, what use will a handful of slaves be?"
"We have no choice, Harry. The butter and cheese merchants of the Free Cities can give us gold, but they'll offer no other help," said Franklin Fogh.
"If we help the Wolves, we'll offend all our biggest clients! If the Liberator's war fails, he'll be ruined before we even reach Westeros," Harry muttered, dejected.
"As planned!" Harry cleared his throat nervously.
"What plan—yours, or Fatty's?" someone mocked. "We're tired of this wandering life. Maris Blackfyre crossed the sea with the help of the Copper Kings—why can't we? The Wolf Pack is strong, and these freed slaves are becoming a real army. Once the Liberator takes the Disputed Lands and Myr, he can help us cross the Narrow Sea."
"Robert Baratheon won the Iron Throne without dragons—so can we! Even if things go wrong and the people don't rise up, we can retreat across the sea, just like the Cold Irons did."
Harry shook his head. "Too many risks."
"Not really. We haven't broken any agreements—we didn't sign a treaty with Myr. We're simply showing goodwill to the Liberators by defeating Bloodbeard. Mercenaries fighting each other isn't unusual. The Myrmen were bound to suffer a crushing defeat, and the Cat Company was doomed to be wiped out.
"If the Liberators take advantage of this victory and defeat the Third Daughter, we'll formally ally with them. If luck turns against them and the Third Daughter strikes back, she'll have to rely on us even more—and pay handsomely for it. Either way, we win. It's a perfect arrangement."
"Then let's charge!" Franklin Fogh laughed heartily. "Let's give the Liberators a hand. That boy's got courage—he's a true warrior!"
Pecker grinned. "I'd rather die in Westeros than rot away in this accursed land, leaving my children to keep wandering."
Marco Mandak chuckled. "As for me, I'd prefer to live well—rich lands and a fine castle to my name."
Franklin Fogh slammed his sword hilt into the ground. "Then let's help the Wolf King first! And I'll cut down a few Rotten Apple Fogh bastards while I'm at it!"
The commander looked as if he'd been struck. "Are you all out of your minds?!"
One by one, the officers of the Golden Company raised their swords and charged down the hill. The last to do so was their reluctant commander—Homeless Harry.
The enemy army collapsed like a house of cards. Bloodbeard saw the Wolf Pack soldiers advancing—heavy infantry clashing with the Free Army's lighter troops. He watched as mercenaries threw away their weapons and fled into the woods.
Even his elite vanguard was breaking apart. The combined shield wall of the Wolf Pack and the Free Army surged forward, while gray-and-white Wolf Pack banners rolled across the field like storm clouds. Axes, greatswords, and spears flashed amid the chaos, bringing death in every direction.
"Success!" Gendry breathed a sigh of relief. The Free Army's formations were crude at best—far less disciplined than the Unsullied. But the Unsullied were too costly and inhuman to maintain. That was why the Wolf Pack's cavalry and infantry charges were vital.
Behind them, the longbowmen, led by the arrow makers, launched wave after wave of fire arrows. Flames rained down upon the fleeing mercenaries.
"Long live the Wolves!"
"Long live the Liberators!" cried Steel Fist, leading the Wolf Pack infantry, while Gray Wolf commanded the Free Army. The combined forces surged like a flood. The Cat Company and Myr mercenaries who tried to resist were quickly swept aside and slaughtered.
Bloodbeard was enraged. "I've lost this battle—but I still have a chance. I'll return to Myr, raise new soldiers, and take my revenge!"
He spurred his horse and galloped toward the rear. But Bloodbeard was too conspicuous to escape—tall, broad-shouldered, his face fierce and red, his great beard braided into a thick rope.
At a small river, Bloodbeard met Gendry face-to-face, their armies clashing violently around them.
"You brat! You've ruined me—and now I'll ruin you!" Bloodbeard roared.
He drew his longsword, its edge flashing like a venomous shadow. His strikes were fast and brutal.
Gendry raised his warhammer and rushed forward. He countered, feinted, and then swung with crushing force. Bloodbeard's blade slashed toward his face, but Gendry dodged with catlike agility.
The warhammer struck Bloodbeard's chest with a thunderous impact. The mercenary leader staggered back, gasping, as his ribs cracked beneath his armor. Still, he fought on—his longsword slashing in furious arcs. Gendry parried the first blow, blocked the second, and deflected the third thrust aimed at his heart. Their movements were so fast that onlookers could barely follow them.
A resounding crack echoed—the warhammer crashed into Bloodbeard's ribs again, shattering more bones and denting his armor. Bloodbeard roared in pain, twisting away to draw another weapon from his horse: a dark Valyrian steel arakh, its edge glinting like black smoke.
"Die!" he bellowed, slashing at Gendry's head.
Gendry ducked low. Bloodbeard's speed was fading; his strength faltered. Gendry's warhammer came down like a falling star, smashing into Bloodbeard's temple. The helmet caved in with a sickening crunch, and Bloodbeard fell to the ground, blood bubbling from his mouth.
Gendry stood over the corpse and picked up the Valyrian arakh. Its long, smoky blade gleamed faintly. It was said the Windblown also possessed such a weapon—this was a rare prize.
Why hadn't Bloodbeard used it earlier? Perhaps he preferred a longsword, or maybe he underestimated his foe, saving the arakh as his final trump card. Either way, it had cost him his life.
The cavalry charge thundered on, trampling Bloodbeard's body beneath hooves and blades.
"What a fine piece of iron!" cried one of the Golden Company knights, rushing up to Gendry. They had witnessed the brutal duel and now saw the mangled remains of Bloodbeard lying lifeless at his feet.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)