The rhythmic, frantic pounding of the oar master's drum was the only sound as the *Mead* cut through the waves, the sea spray like milk in the pre-dawn light. On deck, the wind whipped Gendry's black hair across his face as he stared at the undulating coastline of the Disputed Lands. This fertile, chaotic place was now his best, and perhaps only, option.
"My young friend," Salladhor Saan said, approaching him with a cup of warmed wine, "the road ahead is a difficult one." He gestured toward the shore. "Decades ago, my ancestors raised their army here. The Ninepenny Kings formed their alliance under the Crowned Tree in these very lands."
"A pity their attempt failed so miserably in the Stepstones," Gendry replied.
"The road ahead is uncertain," the old pirate continued, a genuine note of concern in his voice. "If you find you cannot hold this land, I will keep a place for you on my ship."
"I am immensely grateful," Gendry said, and he meant it. Without Salladhor's fleet, operating in the Disputed Lands would be impossible. The firegrass and other spoils they hoped to plunder would need the pirate's network to be sold. Still, he did not fully trust the man. Salladhor Saan served too many masters.
"I have only one piece of advice for you, Commander," the pirate said. "In these lands, you must concentrate your strength. If you make too many enemies, you will not survive." Gendry knew he was right. Liberating slaves would make an enemy of all the Free Cities. It was a fundamental conflict of ideals.
On the lower deck, the slaves who had been freed from Firegrass Manor were gathered. One by one, they tore the wooden tags from their necks and cast them into the sea. The tags were shackles, symbols of a life of bondage. Without them, they were no longer slaves. They were something more dangerous: runaways, to be hunted and killed at will.
"Have you thought this through?" Gendry asked them.
"The worst that can happen is death," one of them replied. "But to return to the manor under a new master would be a fate worse than death."
"I cannot give you much," Gendry said, his voice ringing with conviction. "I can only give you freedom, and perhaps only for a short time." He held up a handful of the wooden tags, then cast them into the churning waves. "Freedom!"
"Freedom!" the slaves roared back, a single, powerful voice. They knelt at his feet. "From this day, freedom will be our faith!" they chanted. "Abolitionist! Abolitionist!"
This was the reality of Myr. When a Magister fell, his property was carved up by the victors. For these slaves, a new master would have meant only continued misery. Now, Gendry had given them a different path. They were his now, a nascent army, fiercely loyal. Sellswords were fickle, but liberated slaves had nowhere else to go.
Salladhor Saan watched from the quarterdeck, a curious expression on his face. He had seen many rebellions against slavery. Most ended in failure. He wondered how far this boy would go.
The ship landed them back on the coast, and they made their way back to Firegrass Manor. With Magister Karasso's influence gone, the estate now belonged to the Wolf Pack.
"First, our assets," Qyburn said, ever the pragmatist. "Our property in Myr and our deposits in the Bank of Myr will be seized. Fortunately, some of the company's gold is at the Wolf's Den, and we also have an account with the Iron Bank of Braavos."
"Good," Gendry said. The Northmen were frugal. They would have some reserves. "The Disputed Lands are not a good place, but it is here we must make our stand."
"We can look to the Ninepenny Kings for a model," Qyburn suggested.
"I know the story," Gendry said. "Barristan the Bold defeated their champion. They were an alliance of pirates, merchants, and exiles. They took Tyrosh and the Stepstones. If not for Ser Barristan, they might have ignited a war in Westeros itself."
"These regions are all connected," Gendry mused. "The Three Daughters, the Disputed Lands, the Stepstones, and Dorne. To conquer the manors here is to make an enemy of the cities."
"And of Dorne," Qyburn added. "The Ninepenny Kings failed in part because Dorne sided with the Iron Throne. If we are to hold these lands, we will have to deal with the Dornishmen."
"That is a complication," Gendry said. "Dancing with scorpions. And they hate my father's house as much as they hate the Lannisters for what was done to Elia Martell and her children."
"Your identity is a thorny issue, Your Highness," Qyburn sighed. Gregor Clegane had smashed the infant Prince Aegon's head against a wall and then raped and murdered his mother, Princess Elia. House Martell had never forgiven the Lannisters for the atrocity, nor House Baratheon for sanctioning it. Gendry, as Robert's son, would be seen as the spawn of their enemies.
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