Though the fire herb estate looked plain from the outside, its interior was elegant and refined. The craftsmanship of the Three Daughters was uniformly impressive, and Gendry could not help but admire it.
The Sellswords followed their captain, "Handsome Man," into the manor's reception hall. After climbing the steps, they found marble-laid floors beneath their boots and fine Myrish tapestries adorning the walls, all depicting hunting scenes. The Sellsword brothers took their seats on long benches, while the estate steward and Handsome Man sat at the highest place.
Those serving the food included an elderly cook and several male and female slaves whose eyes were utterly lifeless. The fire herb estate was protected by several layers of walls, making a siege far more difficult than open battle. In such a place, slaves could easily have been used for defense. Yet the Myrish preferred to trust Sellswords rather than arm slaves. Among the Three Daughters, slaves outnumbered Free folk three to one, and Myrish nobles had to manage and control them with great care.
Wave after wave of fragrance filled the hall. There was smoked chicken, sea fish, fried pork chops, mushroom soup, and specialties of the Three Daughters: Tyroshi garlic sausages and Myrish roasted snails. The drinks were just as astonishing. Tyroshi pear brandy, Myrish firewater, green wine, Pentoshi amber wine, and both red and white wines from Lys were all laid out in abundance.
"Let's drink, everyone!" Steward Luff stood and announced.
The slaves remained dull and unresponsive, like pieces of wood stripped of their souls.
Soon the courtyard rang with the crisp clinking of cups. Half the men drank wine, while the other half drank fruit juice. This was a rule of the Wolf Pack. There always had to be people who stayed sober.
Gendry savored the food before him. The taste was genuinely excellent. He had never seen such a lavish spread. When he was young in King's Landing, he still remembered hunger. Even though he never lacked food while working in the smithy, an apprentice's meals were nothing like this.
"You really went all out this time, old friend," Handsome Man said.
"As I should!" the steward replied with a hearty laugh. Everyone ate until they were full, grateful for his hospitality.
"Gentlemen, we also have some lovely female slaves who can attend to you, if you wish," the steward added, dropping another heavy piece of news.
Cheers rose one after another. The Wolf Pack forbade rape, but beyond that, they did not interfere in such dealings.
"You really spared no expense, old friend. Looks like this mission won't be simple," Handsome Man said.
"Besides those occasional petty thieves, there must be a greater danger, right?" he asked in a quick, low voice.
"You're exactly right," Steward Luff replied softly. "With fire herb so expensive these days, the Magister fears more than just raiders. Merchants hoarding fire herb might hire men to sabotage us, burn down the estate, and drive the price even higher."
"But what about the fire herb the Magister himself has stockpiled?" Handsome Man asked.
"For the election year, the Magister has already exchanged his stored aged fire herb for gold. These remaining herbs must be held firmly in his grasp."
...
The Magisterial elections of the Three Daughters were brutal contests of money and power. In Tyrosh, for example, the ruler was known as the Archon. Elections for the Archon were rife with threats and bribery, something the Tyroshi considered perfectly legitimate. A candidate who could not even buy votes, they believed, had no right to rule their city.
"Well then, let's hope the next few months pass peacefully."
After eating and drinking their fill, the Sellswords gradually returned to their rooms. Some went off to find female slaves, while others took up guard duty.
"Prince, the lands of the Disputed Lands may be fertile, but they are not a good place to establish a foothold," Maester Qyburn said softly as he and Gendry returned to their room.
"Tell me what you think, Master Qyburn."
"The Disputed Lands lie between the Third Daughter and Volantis. Neither of them would ever tolerate an independent king. And then there are the pirates and Sellswords who thrive on chaos. Every one of them thinks himself exceptional and refuses to submit to anyone."
"The Ninepenny Kings managed it once," Gendry said quietly.
"Far too difficult. The Ninepenny Kings had merchants, Sellswords, pirates, and the powerful Golden Company behind them. But we…" Qyburn trailed off in thought. Back then, the Ninepenny Kings had indeed been a formidable force.
"Nothing is impossible," Gendry said, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "I think the Ninepenny Kings never truly tapped into greater power. Freeing the slaves might be one such path. It could bring entirely new changes to the world."
"You mean… freeing the slaves?"
Gendry nodded.
"That idea is madness, like unleashing the fires of hell," Maester Qyburn exclaimed in shock. "Slaves cannot be freed lightly. Slavery is one of the pillars of world trade. For thousands of years, the Seven Kingdoms have had no slaves, and both the Old Gods and the New Gods despise slavery. Yet no king of Westeros has dared to openly oppose the slave-holding world. Not even Braavos went that far. They only battered Pentos. To oppose slavery is to oppose the Triarchy, to oppose Volantis, to oppose Slaver's Bay."
"Chaos gives birth to renewal. Our only footholds are the Stepstones and the Disputed Lands. Besides, it's only an idea for now. The road ahead is long."
Qyburn fell silent. Gendry's idea was reckless, and no one had ever truly attempted such a thing.
At last, the old Maester spoke again. "I will do everything I can to help you. Perhaps one day, the world itself will move according to your will."
"Still, you may have another path," Maester Qyburn added mysteriously. "There is a pair of exiled siblings who strike fear into the hearts of the great men of King's Landing."
"You mean the Beggar King and his sister?"
"Yes," Maester Qyburn nodded. "Though House Targaryen lost their throne, many nobles still curse His Grace Robert in secret, calling him a usurper, and acknowledge the true Dragonblood."
"We'll talk about that later," Gendry said after some thought. For now, strengthening himself was the priority.
The idea was wild. A bastard and an exiled Princess returning to Westeros would truly shake the world. But Daenerys and Viserys were currently well protected by the fat Magister of Pentos. There was no gap to exploit.
...
"Come on, lad!"
The next morning, on the training grounds of the fire herb estate, Handsome Man motioned for Gendry to raise his weapon. His longsword moved with exceptional skill, flowing smoothly through the air.
Gendry swung his iron hammer, each strike heavy and overwhelming.
The two exchanged blows across the training ground. Though no blood was shed, their clash displayed a raw, surging beauty of strength.
The blunted hammer rang sharply as Gendry seemed to enter a frenzied state, hammering at Handsome Man again and again.
"Again!" Gendry roared, demanding faster and fiercer attacks.
Handsome Man was drenched in sweat by the time his blunted sword finally shattered.
Gendry stood alone on the field. His armor was dented from the impacts, and his cloak had been torn to pieces.
"I surrender," Handsome Man said, forcing the words out.
"It won't be long before I have to give up my position to you."
The square erupted in shrill cheers and praise.
"Iron Hammer! Iron Hammer!"
"My turn!" another Sellsword stepped forward. His nickname was Longspear, and his spear work was as elusive as a phantom.