Blood on the Ground

Blood stained the earth. Gendry's war hammer was soaked in it, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and the cries of the wounded. His black scale armor, spiked war hammer, and oak shield were all that stood between him and the chaos. Gendry's deep blue eyes blazed with fury.

"Get out of here!" Purplebeard saw Rustaz fall to the ground, the Meereenese gladiator now a corpse, and his heart sank. Rustaz had been the backbone of the bandit mercenaries—fierce and powerful, yet he died so ingloriously.

The bandit mercenaries abandoned their fallen comrades and scattered, leaving only the stench of blood in the air. Purplebeard barely escaped with his life, thanks to the desperate cover provided by his men.

Purplebeard glanced back, catching sight of the fierce warrior who had slain the Meereenese. He stood beside the corpse, a storm-bringer of death.

"Where did the Wolf Pack find such a skilled fighter?" Purplebeard wondered to himself. He knew he had lost this battle badly and needed more, stronger fighters.

"Strip the usable items from these bandit mercenaries—weapons, armor, supplies, and money! Don't waste the horses that are still alive, and then burn all the bodies!"

The Wolf Pack's members began to clear the battlefield, pulling their comrades' bodies from the pile of the dead. Ten knights, three dead. The bandit mercenaries had lost many more.

Gendry approached Mace, only then feeling the soreness in his elbow. Wielding a warhammer took strength and skill, and the Meereenese were fierce fighters.

The fatal strike by the gladiator into Mace's armpit had pierced through. Plate armor wasn't infallible; there were still vulnerable spots where it could be penetrated.

Gendry looked at Mace's pale face as "Lance" and "Handsome" joined him.

"Mace is dead, kid!" Lance patted Gendry on the shoulder. "You did well, avenging your comrade. There's honor in that."

"I killed the enemy but couldn't save him," Gendry muttered, the harshness of parting weighing on him.

Lance thought for a moment but said nothing. Though Gendry fought like a raging giant on the battlefield, he was still just a boy.

"Take a moment with him. More battles await us," Handsome said to Gendry. "For a newcomer, you're the best I've seen, but we all have to go through this."

Gendry and the others waited for the manor's slaves to appear, first loading their comrades' bodies onto carts, then counting the bandit mercenaries' corpses. Maester Qyburn also emerged from the manor, tending to the mercenaries who had suffered minor wounds or falls.

Handsome left Gendry and continued to scour the battlefield, stripping armor and gold coins, but nothing with identifying marks. It was hard to tell where these bandit knights had come from.

"Still, the hammer was brutal!" Handsome examined the Meereenese corpse, stripping the gladiator's chainmail. Gendry's powerful hammer blow had crushed the man's heart, leaving a sunken indentation and shattered bones. As a blunt weapon, the hammer could concentrate its force into a single point, making it incredibly deadly.

"But we've got ourselves in trouble," Handsome analyzed the Meereenese's appearance—rust-colored hair, tall and agile build. Meereenese gladiators didn't come cheap; where did the bandit mercenaries get the gold to hire them?

"A skilled Meereenese fighter is worth a fortune. It seems whoever's opposing the magistrate must be a big player among the Myrish," Lance mused. "Let the steward know about this and send the message back to Myr."

"Yeah, we got lucky. Warhammer Gendry took him down," Handsome said. "That arakh is a tricky weapon."

"But who would attack the manor?" Handsome wondered. "There are too many possibilities. Merchants hoarding gunpowder grass, other manor lords, or just plain opponents of the magistrate. But hiring bandit mercenaries and Meereenese fighters costs a fortune. It must be worth it for them."

"Forget it! Drag all the bodies to the manor and let the steward send the message."

"This guy's got a good build," Qyburn said, looking at Rustaz's corpse. "But it would be better if he were taller and stronger."

"Not the right time," Gendry replied. Qyburn was still thinking about the "invincible warrior."

As the pile of bodies lay in the gunpowder grass manor, the atmosphere became very tense.

"Thirteen bandit mercenaries, and we lost three brothers. Not counting the runaway slaves."

"There have been thefts and raids before, but nothing on this scale!" The manor's steward looked pale, staring at the corpses.

"Send this message to the magistrate! If it's truly the magistrate's enemy, they'll strike in Myr and the Disputed Lands at the same time."

...

The commotion at the gunpowder grass manor hadn't died down yet as Gendry returned to his room.

Gendry removed his black scale armor. In Westeros, this would have been the squire's job.

"You're lucky, Your Grace! No injuries," Qyburn said. "Minor wounds are no big deal. It's the deep cuts and serious injuries that can be fatal if infected."

"Is there such a thing as a noble as bedraggled as me?" Gendry smiled. He was still just a big mercenary, known for his courage and strength on the battlefield.

"Heroes wait for the storm. Once, Orys was just a bastard of Dragonstone, but following the Conqueror made the Baratheon family the youngest of the great houses in the Seven Kingdoms. The Seven Gods have given you courage, strength, and blood. You should seize the opportunity."

"Chaos may come," Maester Qyburn continued his analysis. "Meereenese gladiators aren't affordable for just anyone. The only possibility is a rich merchant magistrate who could challenge the manor lord. Our employer is now on the edge of danger."

"I didn't expect the Meereenese to show up!" Gendry recalled. "They were trying to bring down the magistrate!"

"As far as I know, the Wolf Pack has always served this magistrate because one of the Wolf Pack's leaders married into the magistrate's family. The Wolf Pack is tied to the Myrish, sharing their fortunes. If the manor lord is in danger, so are we!" Qyburn pointed to himself and Gendry.

"Chaos brings slaughter. The Myrish power struggles are no less brutal than in Westeros."

"No! Even worse than Westeros."

During the Myrish bloodbath, two opposing factions fought for control of the city, leading to a series of assassinations, riots, poisonings, rapes, hangings, tortures, and naval battles. The losing side was expelled from the city. After the Spring of Lys, Governor Torrello was poisoned at a banquet celebrating his election as the first magistrate, along with his wife, mistresses, daughters, siblings, and supporters.

"Chaos can also be an opportunity! The Copper King once dominated the Disputed Lands, the Stepstones, and Tyrosh. The situation is not set in stone. If chaos erupts in Myr, it might be our chance."

"Were you just thinking about altering that Meereenese corpse?" Gendry asked.

Qyburn's face turned awkward, and he nodded. "Sometimes the dead are braver than the living."

"That's dangerous. You have to do it quietly. Next time."