Gendry saw gray Wolf banners fluttering in the wind, and a pack of gray wolves galloping across the Snow.
The Wolf Pack Company's tents were in a hidden corner of the Mercenary Square, rarely visited. The Mercenaries of the Wolf Pack Company didn't go to the center of the square to solicit business either, and Gendry suspected there were only a few people from the Wolf Pack Company in the Mercenary Square.
"Recruiting Sergeants!" Gendry and Maester Qyburn saw the large notice at the entrance of the Wolf Pack Company's tent, then entered the tent.
"Are you here to join the Mercenary Company? Or to post a mission?" In the Wolf Pack Company's tent, there was only a short, stout Old Man, looking at the two uninvited guests with sleepy eyes. A gray-haired Old Man, very tall, slightly hunched, with many wrinkles around his prominent blue eyes. A tall, muscular Boy. He had blue eyes and thick black hair, and wore a black iron mask on his face.
The fat Old Man of the Wolf Pack Company had gray hair and brown eyes, with some pimples on his face, and the gray emblem of the Wolf Pack Company pinned to his chest. Beside him was an ink bottle, and the entire tent was quite simple. Most striking were two realistic Myr-style paintings behind the fat Old Man, depicting powerful Northern men with iron gazes, bushy beards and hair, armed with longswords, and wearing bear-skin cloaks, who were presumably the founders of the Wolf Pack Company. The Old Man first spoke in Low Valyrian, the dialect of the Nine Free Cities and the slave cities.
"Yes, we want to become Mercenaries!" Maester Qyburn said. Gendry was also learning this language, but not as fluently as Qyburn!
"You can just call me Fatty, I'm the Wolf Pack Company's recruiter. Old Man, in a Mercenary Company, nicknames are more popular than names. You're a bit old! As for this masked Child, is he sixteen?
If you are too old or too young, but are willing to join us, we will give you half pay for the first year. The pay is guaranteed to be at a medium level in the Three Daughters market, and you are free to come and go. However, the Wolf Pack Company has many rules. Members must swear a sacred oath, prohibiting wanton killing, theft, rape, and harming comrades. We do not welcome any bad apples; we prefer to have too few than too many. If the oath is broken, the Wolf Pack Company will never forgive." "Fatty" looked at Qyburn, questioning him.
"As a Mercenary, I am very old. But as a physician, I am considered young. As for this Boy next to me, he used to work as a blacksmith's apprentice for a few years." Qyburn said with a smile. Although too old or too young, if they are skilled people like doctors or blacksmith apprentices, the recruitment threshold will be lowered accordingly.
"That's strange, you two look! But you are also some of the few who have been willing to join us recently; everyone else complains we have too many rules!" "Fatty" said with a laugh. The Wolf Pack Company's treatment was quite good, the key was the Northern rules; they were considered a more upright Mercenary Company, though not as good as the Golden Company, but still very strict.
"That's great, do you two have business cards or personal introductions or anything like that?" "Fatty" rubbed his plump hands, then pulled out his pen and started writing on a piece of paper.
"I'm sorry, we don't have that!" Maester Qyburn looked troubled.
"Then that's fine, I'll ask a few questions! Where are you from?" the fat Old Man said. "Also your ages, names, and where you came from. Don't worry, the Wolf Pack Company won't ask too many questions about its brothers; you can be a bit vague. Our oath begins when you join. We won't care if you killed someone in your hometown, but in the Wolf Pack Company, the oath is Iron."
"Westeros, Qyburn, seventy years old, I used to forge medical chains at The Citadel!"
"Westeros, Gendry, twelve years old, I used to be a blacksmith's apprentice!"
"The Sunset Continent, that is my homeland. The ancestors of the Wolf Pack Company were Northerners from Westeros, and even now, most people are descendants of Northerners. Unfortunately, I have never been back, but I still speak the language of Westeros!"
"These are the founders of our Wolf Pack Company! 'Mad Hal' Harris Horwood, and Tymont Snow. They were once under Lord Cregan, the 'Wolf of Winterfell,' and later came to Myr to make a living." The fat Old Man pointed to the paintings on the wall, proudly saying, then switched to a different language and conversed with the two.
"Twelve years old?" "Fatty" glanced at Gendry's build and reminded him. "Such a young Boy, although you are tall and strong, you are still a Boy! Where are your parents, Child?"
"I have combat experience; I once killed pirates on a ship! As for parents, I don't have any parents anymore!"
"Good Boy, assuming you're not lying, you're good material for a Mercenary, unattached, with brute strength! But bragging is fine too; in our Wolf Pack Company, the Captain will test whether you are good steel!" "Fatty" gave a thumbs up in praise. "Back then, only the Bloodthirsty Class started fighting at eleven years old."
"Fatty" asked a few more questions, confirming that the two did not have any strange hobbies and would obey team command.
"What about our pay?" Qyburn asked. Although Gendry had made a small fortune, pay and treatment were still crucial to the Mercenary Company's appeal.
"Previously you were on half-pay, but now because you are skilled individuals, you can receive full pay. The basic salary for a junior Mercenary is one gold ship coin per month, and we also have our own cook and living quarters. However, whether you receive one or five coins depends on your performance and the business volume of our Mercenary Company."
Maester Qyburn and Gendry thought about it and were quite satisfied with this pay. Even in Myr, among small and medium-sized Mercenary Companies, this price was fair. Four or five gold dragons could buy a set of high-quality armor, so a Mercenary could acquire a set in at most half a year. However, Mercenaries often had poor living habits, and those who lived by the sword also had enormous expenses. If they loved drinking or seeking out wild women, this money would indeed not be enough.
"Before joining the Mercenary Company, you can take off your mask, can't you, Child! If you have rashes or other unpleasant diseases on your face, the members of our company will be afraid."
Gendry took off his mask, revealing dark hair, deep blue eyes, and a handsome face. Although young, he was clearly a strong, handsome, masculine, and attractive Boy.
"What a handsome face, young man! You must take good care of it. If you weren't making a living in our Mercenary Company, you'd be very popular in Lys!" "Fatty" laughed heartily!
"Welcome to the Mercenary Company!" "Fatty" stamped his paper, and Gendry and Qyburn officially became members of the Wolf Pack Company. "Welcome, newly joined brothers, but you should also give yourselves nicknames; nicknames are more popular than names!"
"Maester!"
"Iron Hammer!"
"Very good, you can come find me tomorrow morning. We'll go outside the city to the Wolf Pack's den then; the Captain still needs to make the final confirmation. I think the Captain will also be very happy that I've recruited two interesting people for the Wolf Pack Company!"
The next morning, Gendry and Qyburn arrived at the Wolf Pack's den, the Wolf Pack Company's camp outside Myr.
"Most Mercenary Company camps are in the Disputed Lands. Some Mercenary Companies have too many people, like the Golden Company; if they all entered the city, the governor would be afraid," Fatty explained to the two.
When a small, well-organized, and orderly military camp appeared in their sight, Fatty told them that this was the Wolf Pack's den. The Wolf Pack Company's banners flew high, adorning the long poles around the camp. There were also sentries in armor, patrolling with Longspears and crossbows.
"Although we are few, we still have the blood of regular soldiers!" Fatty was very proud.