The Battle for the Manor

The banners of the Wolf Pack still fluttered over the manor. Knights of the Wolf Pack charged out from a side gate of the manor, their armor making them look even more imposing.

They wore longswords at their waists, the swords clanking against their scabbards as they marched to the rhythm of steel. In addition to longswords, they wielded lances, maces, or flails.

Purplebeard looked at the dead runaway slaves on the walls and below, like ants, his eyes cold as ice. "It seems the Wolf Pack is truly as tough as legend says!"

"Boss!" the treasurer behind Purplebeard muttered quietly. "Without siege weapons, it's hard to take this manor. After all, it's the magistrate's most important wealth, and it's heavily defended."

"What are you afraid of?" Purplebeard said disdainfully. "It's just a magistrate. Don't we have the support of a magistrate?"

"What do you think, Rust?" Purplebeard asked a tall, thin man behind him, his face showing a hint of flattery.

"This is our first attack, but we can't retreat easily," the tall, thin man replied. His hair was rust-colored, his skin pale, and he had a pair of cold, dead eyes. He chose a Dothraki arakh as his weapon.

"Charge!" The Wolf Pack and Purplebeard's bandit knights clashed in a fierce melee. The runaway slaves in the rear, seeing things were going wrong, scattered into the night.

The mercenaries fought with brutal directness, hacking and slashing. Purplebeard's men had decent armor; no wonder they dared to charge.

"Follow me!" Handsome shouted, brandishing his longsword as he tangled with Purplebeard. The battlefield became chaotic.

One of the Wolf Pack was impaled on a bandit knight's lance, while "Lance" kicked his horse's leg, breaking the enemy's spine.

The Wolf Pack was outnumbered but fiercer and better-trained. Purplebeard's men were more numerous but looser in formation. A bandit knight recklessly charged at Gendry, only to be struck in the chest by Gendry's war hammer, piercing through leather, cloth, muscle, and lung, killing him instantly. Gendry pulled his warhammer out of the bandit knight's body and launched another attack without pause.

A bandit knight's infantryman lunged at Gendry's chest with a spear. Gendry parried with his warhammer, and the man jumped back. But the Wolf Pack's instructor, "Mace," turned his horse and trampled the bandit knight underfoot.

Another javelin flew at Gendry from the right, thudding into his wooden shield. Gendry relentlessly pursued the javelin thrower, who raised his shield over his head. Gendry circled him on horseback. His warhammer rained down like hail, splintering oak. Oak shields were far inferior to the superior Nightwood and steel shields.

"Thud!" Gendry's warhammer unleashed a whirlwind of death, smashing half of the bandit knight's face, spraying blood, brains, and bone fragments. The bandit knight collapsed limply to the ground.

"Watch out!" Gendry shouted anxiously, seeing Mace. For some reason, Mace had dismounted his horse, perhaps because it had been speared and thrown him off, which was very dangerous. Mace stood in the crowd, his spiked mace swinging wildly. Mace was highly skilled, having already sent several souls to the grave.

"Keep your eyes peeled, kid!" Mace laughed, but his smile gradually faded. A crossbow bolt from a bandit knight struck him.

"Die!" A tall, lean bandit knight emerged from behind Mace, his deep arakh extremely vicious as he fought with Mace. The man wielding the arakh was fast and ruthless, and Mace was struggling, especially with the dagger. The rust-haired man found an opening and thrust his dagger into Mace's armpit, between the pauldron and breastplate, drawing blood. Such was the fate of a mercenary.

"I'm sorry!" Mace's face wore a faint, bitter smile as he fell to the ground and closed his eyes.

"No!" Gendry was locked in his fierce battle and couldn't save Mace.

Seeing Mace fall, Gendry became a storm. He raised his warhammer and launched a frenzied attack, the intense flames of war igniting around him.

Gendry swung his mace, a wild strength surging through him as he knocked down two bandit knights beside him and charged at the rust-haired bandit knight.

"Kid, are you ready to die too?" The rust-haired bandit pulled out his dagger and wiped the blood off with a thin white silk cloth. The two enemies met in the crowd.

"Bring it on!" Gendry dismounted his horse. He didn't say much, just swung his mace. Mace was his teammate, his instructor.

"I don't mind slitting your heart open again!" The rust-haired bandit raised his long, curved arakh. This weapon, favored by the Dothraki, was perfect for slashing and killing, creating deep, long wounds on horseback, especially effective against those without armor.

The sound of clashing steel rang out, a dance of death. Gendry had a helmet and black scale armor, while his rust-haired opponent had no helmet and wore chainmail. Gendry had a bull helmet, but his neck and face were unarmored at the moment.

"You're worthy of knowing my name! Kid, Rustaz of Meereen, the undefeated gladiator." Rustaz was incredibly fast, his arakh whistling as it swung like a rainstorm, trying to take down Gendry. Rustaz aimed for Gendry's throat or head.

Gendry calmly defended, blocking every slash with his mace and oak shield. Steel clashed with steel, and Gendry felt as if he had endless strength, bringing fury and storm. The Meereenese, Purplebeard, might not have had the wealth to hire a Meereen arena expert.

"Thieves are still thieves! Cowards!" Rustaz cursed as the situation on the field changed rapidly. Handsome's men fought like madmen, and Purplebeard's men grew anxious, unable to hold their ground. Rustaz also found it very tricky, the sound of steel clashing, the opponent's strength was so wild.

"Ha!" Rustaz's arakh struck Gendry's black scale armor, and Gendry felt a rush of blood, but the arakh didn't penetrate the black scale plate. Gendry's counterattack came swiftly, smashing into Rustaz's face, creating a hole in his cheek, and bright red blood. Rustaz let out a howl.

"Coward! A coward in armor!" Rustaz had no helmet, only chainmail. This was Gendry's opportunity.

"Thud!" Gendry's war hammer was like the arrival of a storm god; the tremendous force of the collision made Rustaz struggle.

Rustaz roared and attacked, his arakh flipping up and down, trying to carve out a way to survive.

Gendry only blocked the attacks aimed at his head. Rustaz's strike on his arm was ineffective. After all, this was not Valyrian steel.

"Die!" The two fought fiercely until Gendry's spiked war hammer struck Rustaz's chest with a heavy blow, shattering his body. Rustaz fell to the ground, lifeless.