The Red Viper's visit was brief. His identity was too sensitive for him to linger, but a verbal alliance was forged, a bond of mutual friendship and commercial ties. In the days he was at Firegrass Manor, he and Gendry dueled many times, and sparring with one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms allowed Gendry to hone his own skills at an incredible rate.
*He is treating me as a stand-in for the Mountain,* Gendry realized. The prince always fought with his longspear, practicing for the day he would face Tywin Lannister's mad dog. Against an eight-foot wall of muscle like Gregor Clegane, a longspear was a far more flexible and safer weapon than a greatsword.
"He is a complex man," Gendry thought. Rumors swirled around the Red Viper—his martial prowess, his many duels, even his romantic interests were the subject of endless gossip.
"What do you make of the prince?" Gendry asked Qyburn later.
"In terms of talent, he is outstanding," the maester replied. "Unfortunately, Dorne's plate is too small, and they are out of step with the new dynasty." Dorne was the least populous of the Seven Kingdoms, its harsh climate unable to support a large army. The Reach and the Westerlands, both enemies of the Dornish, were far richer and more powerful.
"Small in strength but grand in ambition," Gendry said. "The Dornish are isolated. To challenge the alliance of the stag, lion, wolf, and fish with their meager forces would be suicide. That is why Doran and Oberyn plan so cautiously."
"You do not know the full story of the rebellion, Your Highness," Qyburn mused. "Dorne was hesitant to join the war, but the Mad King held Princess Elia hostage, forcing her uncle, Prince Lewyn, to lead ten thousand Dornishmen to join Rhaegar's army. Prince Lewyn died at the Trident. The Dornish have shed blood for the Targaryens, and they have not forgotten."
*Poor people,* Gendry thought, a wave of sympathy washing over him. The Martells had been dragged into a war not of their making by the madness of the Targaryens. *Injustice and ambition are the twin sources of war,* he reflected. The Seven Kingdoms were rife with discontent, with lords who felt they had been wronged. The Baratheon brothers were at odds, the Tyrells and the Martells chafed under the new regime, and men like Varys and Littlefinger fanned the flames from the shadows. Gendry knew he needed to bide his time, to accumulate strength before wading into that chaos.
"Doran and Oberyn are two sides of the same coin," Gendry analyzed. "Oberyn is fierce and passionate, but in the end, he still obeys his cautious brother." He suddenly felt a pang of pity for the Red Viper. To be so proud and so skilled, yet to be bound by his brother's commands, his revenge delayed year after year—it must be a torment.
"This is why the Red Viper wishes to connect with us," Qyburn said. "To break the deadlock. The Dornish need an army, and they have few friends in Westeros. The merchants of the Free Cities lack the courage for such a venture."
"We will seize this opportunity," Gendry decided. "The Red Viper's friendship is a double-edged sword, but we will see how much help he can offer. Dornish horses, spices, spearmen—I need them all. Especially the horses. Their endurance is legendary, perfect for the light cavalry charges this flat terrain demands."
"Prince Oberyn is cautious," Qyburn warned. "He will not sell to us in large quantities. Dorne has its own relationship with the Free Cities."
"But what if he guesses your identity, Your Highness?" Qyburn asked, a flicker of worry in his eyes.
"The situation is not static," Gendry replied. "Even if he knew, House Martell would not dare to openly rebel. For now, it is a simple partnership. And I do not think the Red Viper is interested in making more enemies for his house." The Martells' primary object of hatred was House Lannister. That gave Gendry room to maneuver.
"For now, our focus remains on the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones," Gendry said, his eyes gleaming. "We must make the Wolf Pack's name known, make Oberyn and the slavers re-evaluate our worth. The more effective we are in battle, the more investment we will attract."
He turned to Qyburn. "Spread the word that we are uniting with the Company of the Cat to plunder Myr. Let the Free Army make raids along the border to frighten the Myrish."
"A feint," Qyburn understood. "Our real target is the Stepstones."
The Myrmen were in a state of constant fear. Their navy was decent, but their land forces were weak, and the Wolf Pack's attacks were swift and brutal. They wanted to hire the Golden Company, but the price was too high.
"Yes," Gendry said, a predatory smile on his lips. "Now that we have an outlet to the sea, we will occupy the islands of the Stepstones, one by one. It is a grand plan, but for now, we will start with the small islands." As his influence grew, his relationship with Salladhor Saan had become more complex. The old pirate had foreseen the rise of the Wolf Pack, but he had not imagined it would be so rapid. Gendry had chosen a daring path, a pioneer challenging the very institution of slavery that underpinned the world's economy. And he was just getting started.