"By the Old Gods!"
"Warrior, protect us!"
"Lady of Spears, watch over us!"
"Lord of Light, bless us!"
Before battle, the soldiers called upon their own gods for victory. The Wolf Pack prayed to the Seven and the Old Gods. The Unsullied invoked the Lady of Spears. As for the Free Company, most turned to the deities of the Disputed Lands—R'hllor, the Lord of Light, and the Love Goddess of Lys.
From atop Fire Herb Manor, Gendry watched the dark mass rising along the distant horizon, rolling forward like a black tide.
The Myr had launched their second assault in a frenzy. The Magisters had set aside their grudges and hired the Company of the Cat, the Long Lances, and the Second Sons, along with a great number of free sellswords gathered in Myr.
"It seems the harrying knights we set along their route could only do so much against entire companies," the Handsome Man said.
"That was meant to shake their morale," Gendry replied. "The real fight was always going to be head-on."
"The road ahead won't be easy," Longspear warned. "Myr has assembled twenty warships to blockade our coastline. They plan to coordinate a strike from the sea with the sellswords. The Tyrosh have tacitly allowed the Myr fleet to pass."
The Myr had learned from their earlier failure. This time, they were attacking from both land and sea. Still, the coastline leading to the manor was long and treacherous, the terrain broken and difficult. Compared to that, the army advancing by land posed the faster and more immediate threat.
"The coast isn't so easy to seal off," Gendry said. "The Disputed Lands are full of openings. And do they really dare attempt a landing?"
"There's another danger we must watch for—the Blood Plague. Be wary of the Myr hurling corpses into the estate," Maester Qyburn said.
The Blood Plague had haunted armies since the Dawn Era. He knew too well how it crept silently through the ranks, only to end in the destruction of an entire host.
"The Maester's concern is sound," the Handsome Man said, "but Bloodbeard likely doesn't have that kind of cunning. He's set on taking Fire Herb Manor and looting it thoroughly."
"The Myr have truly paid in blood this time," Gendry said. "In that case, we'll strip them of every manor and town they hold. Let them collapse faster."
"Stick to the original plan," he continued. "Like hammer and anvil, we'll smash the Blackfyre rebels. We'll copy the royalist army's tactics. This battle will make our name and cut off Myr's retreat."
"The Myrish aren't as strong as they think. And we have friends."
"Yes!"
"Fuck them!"
Gendry's anvil was the reinforced Fire Herb Manor and several other estates. Some of the loosely held forward manors had been abandoned. The escaped slaves were ordered to clear the surrounding lands and help forge a solid defensive chain.
Layer by layer, Fire Herb Manor had been strengthened until it resembled a fortress of steel. The widened, deepened trenches were lined with sharpened stakes. Inside the walls stood large catapults and scorpion crossbows, ready to blunt the enemy's advance.
The hammer of the Wolf Pack and the Free Company was the four hundred knights personally led by Gendry—a reserve fist meant for the decisive charge. Inside the castle were many soldiers of the Free Company. Aside from the garrison, two thousand men stood ready to move at his command. There were also the guerrilla fighters, a specialty of Fletcher Dick. He had taken a band of longbowmen into the woods and hills, lying in wait for the right moment.
From the castle walls, Gendry watched Bloodbeard's advance. The great cat banner of the Company of the Cat, the broken sword of the Second Sons, and the long spear of the Long Lances were all visible from the ramparts.
Bloodbeard's troops formed the center of the Myr host. On the left were the cavalry of the Second Sons; on the right, the cavalry of the Long Lances. Infantry made up the bulk of the force. The three great sellsword companies formed the core, bolstered by a substantial number of free sellswords. At the rear stood three massive catapults.
"Roughly six thousand," Gendry judged, studying the depth and strength of their formation. "But the real core is Bloodbeard."
"The Second Sons' knights are poorly equipped—substandard armor and weapons. Not all of Bloodbeard's men are elite either. Only the foremost thousand are truly seasoned. The next two thousand sellswords and the two thousand free knights who rushed in are little more than numbers."
"Steward," Gendry said, "when I lead the knights in the charge, the manor will be in your hands."
"Rest assured," the Handsome Man replied. "I will stand or fall with the manor."
...
"That damn brat!" Bloodbeard roared.
The leader of the Company of the Cat was a loud, brutal man with a taste for slaughter.
"It's already evening, damn it. Those guerrilla slaves delayed us badly. Otherwise, we'd have hurled twice as many stones by noon."
His voice could drown out a dozen men. He was huge, thickly bearded, with an unrestrained appetite for fine wine and women.
"Some of the estates we passed were empty. Others, once we cracked their turtle shells, were packed with hardheaded slaves. They cost me plenty of good men," Bloodbeard growled, wiping down his longsword as he cursed.
"Smash that brat," Mero said eagerly. "They've plundered so many estates. There's bound to be a mountain of wealth in the Wolf's Den."
Mero, commander of the Second Sons, came from Braavos. He was tall, with pale green eyes and a thick red-gold beard that fell to his waist. His infamy was so severe that under his command, the Second Sons had scarcely found employment in years.
"That brat's stubborn as a mule," Mero went on. "He could've paid us off with a bit of gold. Instead, he insists on fighting to the end."
"Don't fixate on scraps," Bloodbeard said with a snort. "Break the manor, and the gold and slaves are ours. I can see you're starving for coin. Make the most of this chance, Titan's bastard."
The Second Sons' name had long been foul enough that few of the Free Cities would hire them.
"And keep an eye on those curs from the Long Lances," Bloodbeard added. "They've got plenty of horses. The moment things turn sour, they'll be the first to run."
The Company of the Cat was mostly infantry—around three hundred cavalry and squires, with two thousand seven hundred foot soldiers. The Second Sons fielded just over five hundred cavalry. The Long Lances, by contrast, had eight hundred horsemen and were built almost entirely around cavalry.
"Catapults! Move them up! Drag those three giant catapults the Myr built for us—those lovely Myr whores!" Bloodbeard bellowed.
For this assault on the Wolf Pack's headquarters, the Myr had constructed three massive catapults: Wolfslayer, Lady of Myr, and Glory of Myr.
"Post men to guard the catapults," Bloodbeard ordered Mero.
"As you command, Lord Commander," Mero replied with a nod. In terms of sheer strength of arms, Bloodbeard fully deserved the title.
Bloodbeard's center formed up in ranks of five thousand, arranged in more than a dozen lines, but they did not advance.
Boom. Boom.
The three Myr catapults roared to life. Stones arced through the sky and began crashing down upon Fire Herb Manor.
I need to deal with those catapults, Gendry thought.
Fire Herb Manor was no invincible stronghold. Its inner defenses could not endure endless waves of boulders.
Gendry wore his black scale armor. Draped over his shoulders was a cloak of fine, smooth Myrish brocade, thick enough to deflect some arrows. He rode the black steed gifted by the Red Viper, a Dornish horse counted among the finest in the world.
At his side hung his spiked warhammer and his Arakh scimitar. Slung over his arm was a dark oak shield to match.
Silent as stone, Longspear led four hundred equally silent knights beside him. Behind Longspear, a man bore the gray-white banner—the howling wolf of the Wolf Pack.