In the council hall of the liberated manor, beautiful Myrish tapestries depicting scenes of a bountiful harvest hung on the walls, a strange contrast to the war council being held below. Gendry, Qyburn, and Handsome stood over a map of the Disputed Lands spread across a long table. Victory was sweet, but with each manor they took, the fear among the Myrish magisters grew. Soon, Gendry knew, the Three Daughters might even unite against them.
"After taking a manor, we will distribute its assets as we have before," Gendry declared. "The land and daily necessities go to the freed slaves. Precious metals, art, and medicine go to our war chest." Since it was all the private property of the wealthy merchants who had profited from slavery for so long, he felt no remorse in seizing it.
"It has been registered and will be redistributed," Qyburn confirmed.
"Firegrass Manor, Purple Thistle Manor, Foxtail Manor…" Handsome ticked them off on the map. "The more we take, the greater the panic in Myr."
"Most of these estates belong to Magister Joey and his allies," Qyburn added. "It will not be long before they hire their own sellswords to attack us." The Wolf Pack's former commander had died at Joey's hands; there was a blood debt between them that could only be paid on the battlefield.
"The good news is that the Myrmen are not united," Gendry said. "The High Council has a dozen magisters, all pulling in different directions."
"Perhaps many of them should thank us," Handsome said with a cynical smile. "We control the firegrass now, and the merchants in Myr who hoarded it before the blight have made a fortune. They would love for us to keep stirring up trouble a while longer."
"Let Myr descend into chaos," Gendry said. "We will use this time to our advantage. The attacks against us have been small-scale. Soon, they will hire other sellswords."
"We need to consolidate our hold on these manors," Handsome said, "and open up a secure route to the coastline. And we need a navy. To hold the Disputed Lands, we must also consider the Stepstones, or we will be caught in an encirclement."
"Are there any other powers contacting us, besides the smugglers?" Gendry asked.
"Yes," Qyburn replied. "My informants in the taverns tell me that men from Dorne and the Reach are very interested in our firegrass."
"Dorne and the Reach," Gendry mused. "Interesting." The two kingdoms had little in common, save for the fact that both had been excluded from the core of Robert's new dynasty.
***
On a luxurious yacht in Myr's harbor, the High Council was in an uproar. The storm stirred up by the "Butter-King" was growing larger by the day. His message of freedom for the slaves was spreading like wildfire, even within the city itself.
"Magister Joey," one of his rivals spat, "it is because of your foolishness that we now face this crisis! The price of firegrass and firewine soars, the commons complain, and the slaves grow restless."
"My fault?" Joey's face turned red. "I know some of you are in contact with this Butter-King! The more chaos he causes, the more profit you make from your hoarded supplies!"
"Slander!" another magister shouted. The council descended into a cacophony of accusations and counter-accusations.
"Enough!" An old magister with white hair and piercing black eyes stood up. It was Rayword, one of the most powerful and respected men in Myr. "The Disputed Lands are fertile, and slaves are the foundation of our prosperity. We cannot allow this bandit and his rabble to continue."
"Then what is your counsel?" someone asked. "Do we appease them, or exterminate them?"
"They must all be cut down and killed," Rayword declared. "Just as they do in Slaver's Bay, we must be severe. The task falls to you, Magister Joey. You have benefited most from this chaos. It is time you made a contribution to the city."
"But the boy is a skilled fighter," Joey protested, "and the slaves believe in him. Many sellsword companies will not accept such a mad contract."
"There are plenty of bandits in the Disputed Lands who will be willing," Rayword replied coolly. "As I understand it, two companies have already offered their services."
"Which two?"
"The Brave Companions and the Second Sons."
Joey gasped. "Their reputation is infamous."
"Infamous sellswords are still sellswords," Rayword said with a dismissive wave. "Do you have the coin to hire the Golden Company?"
The Brave Companions were a company of criminals and exiles with a reputation for brutality. The Second Sons were one of the oldest mercenary companies in Essos, but under the leadership of their current commander, Mero, their reputation had sunk so low they could hardly find a contract in the Free Cities. They were desperate, and dangerous.