Across the Narrow Sea, the waves churned as the wind filled the sails of the swift ships.
The deep, hoarse call of war horns echoed across the water, passed from ship to ship like a summons from the depths.
Gendry's flagship, the *Wolf Pack*, led the charge. Formerly known as the *Lady's Lace*, she had been the pride of the Myrish fleet. Now, her sails gleamed with the emblem of a roaring wolf pack. The ship was a monster, boasting three hundred oars, a deck lined with ballistae, and trebuchets at both the bow and stern, ready to launch barrels of burning pitch. She was not only formidable but also incredibly fast.
"I never expected to see you here, Ser Davos," Gendry said, greeting the Onion Knight. Gendry wore a simple grey-white leather vest, his heavy armor discarded at his feet. As his fleet commander had advised, heavy plate was a death sentence at sea.
Ser Davos had traveled across the sea on Lord Stannis's orders, scouting for sellswords and sailors in case they were needed. He had come to visit an old friend, only to find that Moros of Myr had already gone ashore and joined the Wolf Pack Fleet.
*He looks just like Robert in his prime,* Davos thought, studying the young man. Gendry was as handsome and powerfully built as the king had been in his youth. Renly, for all his charms, lacked the warrior's spirit. But this boy was different from Robert; his temperament was less wild, more focused. Yet one thing was certain: they both possessed the same Baratheon charisma, a flame that drew others to them.
Ser Davos felt a strange sense of destiny. For over a decade, he had served Stannis with unwavering loyalty. He had never imagined he would find himself fighting alongside his lord's illegitimate relative, half-coerced and half-willing.
"It is an honor to meet you, Commander," Ser Davos said, a helpless note in his voice. "I also did not expect to be betrayed by my old friend." The Onion Knight was a man of ordinary appearance, thin, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a thick, grey-streaked beard. The first joints of the four fingers on his left hand had been severed long ago. He kept the bones in a small leather pouch that he wore around his neck as a lucky charm.
"I was the commander of a mercenary fleet in Myr," Moros of Myr stated plainly. "Now, I am the commander of the Wolf Pack Fleet and a member of Myr's council. From this day forward, our dealings are strictly business." Moros had the olive skin and cunning eyes typical of a Myrish man. When Myr was taken, he saw his path as a sellsword captain ending and a brighter future beginning, so he brought his fleet to Gendry.
"This isn't like you, old friend," Ser Davos complained. "As I remember, you loved the thrill of smuggling and the freedom of mercenary work."
"It is simple," Moros said dismissively. "Not everyone wants to be a pirate for their entire life. You were wise and became a knight. I've lost my taste for smuggling." He gestured toward Davos. "But I know Stannis. He is as exciting as a rock. You should bring your old skills and join the Commander. It would be better than rotting on that volcanic island."
"Enough, old friend," Davos refused firmly. "You know I am not that kind of man. My loyalty is to Lord Stannis."
Gendry glanced at Davos. Though he was of low birth, his knowledge of the sea—the winds, the coastlines, the ships—was second to none.
"It seems Lord Stannis is not having an easy time on Dragonstone," Gendry remarked, "to send his most trusted man across the Narrow Sea." The desolation of the island severely limited Stannis's ambitions, and with Jon Arryn's sudden death, his power was more constrained than ever.
Ser Davos struggled for a response; he was not a man of eloquent words.
"Very well," Gendry said, not pressing the issue. "Ser Davos can join my fleet and watch how we take Tyrosh." Loyalty was a rare quality. If it could be swayed so easily, this man would not be Ser Davos.
Davos considered the offer. Since he was stuck on the ship, he might as well witness this great battle unfold.
"Commander Harris now commands the Narrow Sea fleet, and I command the fleet from Myr," Moros explained.
*This is a demonstration of power,* Davos realized with a sinking heart. *Their influence already covers Lys, the Stepstones, and the Disputed Lands. Tyrosh is next.* Moros had accepted Gendry's high rank and generous pay; he would never answer a call from Stannis now.
Davos was amazed by Gendry's leadership. Most young men were arrogant and refused to listen to their elders, but Gendry heeded the advice of old sailors like Moros. Combined with their superior numbers, Tyrosh was in grave danger.
"Commander! Our swift ships have finished their scouting. It is time for the full assault!" Moros declared, his voice filled with excitement. He had been a mercenary captain and a smuggler, but he had never been part of a battle this grand.
They had carefully probed the enemy's weaknesses rather than charging in recklessly. Moros, like Davos, had an exceptional understanding of naval warfare.
Davos watched calmly as the fleets moved into position. The best strategy at sea was to encircle the enemy from both flanks, trapping them in the center.
"Oars down!" Moros commanded. "Form ranks!" Three hundred oars hit the water at once, propelled by the thunderous beat of the oarmaster's drum. The rhythm was like a giant, slow heartbeat, and with each beat, three hundred men moved as one.
The Wolf Pack Fleet and the Narrow Sea Fleet closed in from both sides. The Narrow Sea Fleet was a mix of pirates from the Stepstones and escaped slaves. Although they had over two hundred ships, most were smaller and more maneuverable than traditional warships. The Wolf Pack Fleet, however, was composed of the former Myrish navy's regular warships.
"Full speed ahead!" Moros roared. The *Wolf Pack* led the first line, flanked by two large hundred-oared ships. The rest of the first battle line consisted of ships with over a hundred oars. Behind them, a second line of hundred-oared ships was commanded by seasoned sailors, river pirates, and former slaves. Further back were the smaller, slower ships, and behind them, merchant and cargo vessels.
The first and second lines carried knights and soldiers, but not too many; the weight of armored men would slow the ships. The vessels further back transported the bulk of the fighting men.
"Commander! The Wolf Pack Fleet is made of the finest Myrish warships. We are the right fist of this attack," Moros explained. "And Commander Harris's Narrow Sea Fleet is our left fist!"
The war horns blared, their rough calls echoing across the sky, seeming to cut through the surging white foam of the waves.
*Thump, thump, thump!* On the decks, infantrymen beat their swords against their shields, and archers nocked their arrows.
Gendry stared at Tyrosh, now so close in his sights. The city was within reach, but it would take a bloody battle to claim it.
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