"Long live the Storm!!"
"For the storm!"
On the battlefield, a thunderous cheer erupted from the masses. The banners of Volantis' Elephant and Tiger, and the harpy banners of the Ghiscari descendants, were all cast to the ground.
Gendry, clad in golden armor, stood proudly on the battlefield. The sun reflected off him, and all eyes were on him, like a horned god. Swords were also a truth, at least everyone who witnessed this battle from the lines was convinced.
"Ser Lothor! Jon!" Gendry called out.
The two responded, Lothor looked a bit comical in Gendry's secondary armor, while Jon was somewhat slender, but still very excited, his face flushed with victory.
Gendry gave them orders: "Take my warhammer and go manage the battlefield, calm the soldiers. Anyone who indiscriminately kills or disobeys orders will face military law."
Gendry handed the spiked warhammer to Lothor Bren. Lothor respectfully took the blood-soaked warhammer.
"How do you feel, Jon?" Gendry asked him.
"It was magnificent, the grandest battlefield in the known world, and we are the victors. The Volantis army crumbled before our might," Jon Snow said excitedly. He had never seen such a grand battle in the North.
"Power is power, Jon. Go busy yourself," Gendry said with a smile. The two left to carry out their orders.
As high as honor, as high as power. Stronger, more cunning.
Gendry looked at Marajo's head. Although it had no teeth, it was still a tiger. Marajo, against his will, left Gendry a legacy. First, Marajo's personal Unsullied guards loosened their formation and knelt on the ground.
"This is a valyrian steel sword, and a valyrian steel ring," Gendry first noticed the precious artifacts Marajo carried. Victory was comfortable; he could always get equipment. As the old Magistrate of the wealthy and ancient city-state of Volantis, Marajo's family had the strength and heritage.
"It's best to loot all these rich Lords and see what equipment they have."
"What is this sword called?" Gendry asked. Gendry drew the sword from beside Marajo's campaign folding chair. The pommel was a roaring tiger. The blade was wider than a palm, and when stood upright, it was taller than Jon Snow, a truly gigantic sword.
The blade of the greatsword was forged from valyrian steel and imbued with magic. The ripples on the sword emitted a golden glow, and the blade surface looked like a surging wave of bright yellow.
The Unsullied guard respectfully replied, "Tiger Roar, The Liberator."
"It's truly beautiful, a golden legend," Gendry was very satisfied. He looked at the sword; it was too tall for others, but just right for him. Gendry, with his height and long legs, wielded the greatsword like a cutting machine.
Could it be a modified lightbringer, the lost greatsword of the Lannister? But Gendry thought about it, and it was impossible. The Lannister's golden fleet went missing in the Smoking Sea ruins, and no one dared to go there.
"This ring is also a treasure." Gendry then took off Marajo's personal ring. Marajo had no superfluous decorations. The ring was certainly Marajo's beloved possession, made of valyrian steel, dark in color, with flame-like patterns and a red gem. Gendry unceremoniously took it.
"You all stay here and guard Marajo's body. I'm going to see the Commander of Meereen."
"Yes, sir."
Gendry and Ser Barristan and others rushed to the other side of the main camp. The Meereen Gladiators were guarding their master. His luck was not bad; he was not killed immediately.
"They are here." A squad of Gladiators guarded the Meereenese nobles. They wore no armor and did not know how to fight against armored opponents, as gladiators did not have this custom.
No one wore armor in the arena; the audience wanted to enjoy blood, death, dismemberment, and the painful screams of the dying—that was the music of the scarlet sands. Gladiators were suited for creating chaos with thrusts. Marajo had originally intended for them to push the catapults, but they were not used.
Hizdahr zo Loraq of Meereen watched the Gold Cloaks surrounding them. The Knights were ready with twelve-foot Longspears and crossbows.
"Surrender quickly!" Gendry rode up. "Marajo is dead."
"I surrender." The old Grand Marshal of Yunkai was also there, being the first to bow his head.
"Everyone drop your weapons! Everyone drop your weapons!" The Meereenese noble also shouted, then knelt on the ground. The Gladiators all dropped their weapons.
"I am my master's guardian; I cannot easily lay down my weapon." Krazz was somewhat stubborn, bowing and kneeling with some reluctance. Krazz was a skilled and exceptionally fast gladiator, and also somewhat proud.
"Drop the sword, Krazz," the Meereenese man shouted anxiously, looking at his guard.
"Pick up your weapon," Gendry said. "Then there's no need for you to stand."
Gendry wielded his newly acquired greatsword, Tiger Roar. Krazz had a long, curved dothraki arakh.
Krazz was first stunned, then burst into laughter: "Boy, I will eat your heart. You are The Liberator, but I am also the undefeated Krazz."
"Only cowards hide in iron armor." The gladiator's speed was astonishingly fast, the fastest opponent Gendry had ever seen in his life, probably on the same level as Drogo and The Red Viper. He wielded his arakh in a dazzling blur, and a storm of flashing iron covered Gendry from three sides, bringing with it a whistling sound.
"No!" the Meereenese man cried out.
Gendry brought down his greatsword, and the greatsword ferociously struck back at the gladiator. Gendry's speed was faster, his strength greater. He wasn't defending at all, but exchanging blows, only speed could prevail. A golden arc of light, like a crescent moon, appeared, and Krazz's entire upper body, along with his arakh, was diagonally sliced off. It cut from his left shoulder all the way to his right waist. Blood, internal organs, and bones stained the entire ground. The gladiator's body was split in two.
"Thud!" The Meereenese man trembled all over, and the Grand Marshal of Yunkai directly fainted. The Gladiators were silent, like quiet quails; this heart-eating demon was the strongest among them. They craved death in the arena, but not this kind of death without any possibility of fighting back.
"Prince," Gendry saw the Beggar King, Lord of the Windblown, also arrive.
The Commander of the Windblown knelt respectfully on the ground. "For your great victory."
"Do you remember the gift you asked me for?" Gendry asked him.
"I don't remember," the Beggar King shook his head. "I am just your loyal servant. The Windblown are at your command, and besides them, there are the Iron Shields and the Mouton Family."
"There will be a chance for revenge. It was Pentos that supplied the Volantis fleet, wasn't it?"
"Yes," the Beggar King nodded.
"It seems our Pentos friends are indeed enthusiastic." Gendry gripped Tiger Roar. He had to use the collaborators; the Beggar King knew Pentos best.
The green-clad Knights carrying the golden Rose banners also poured into Marajo's main camp, leaving only the mop-up work. Marajo was dead, blood and fire filled the battlefield, along with the great victory of the storm.
Garlan Tyrell arrived at the main camp and witnessed this bloody scene. Gendry's single blow, capable of splitting mountains, struck fear into the hearts of the Meereenese and Yunkai'i. Although valyrian steel is indestructible, it was also the user's immense strength. A greatsword over six feet was difficult for others, but Gendry wielded it with ease.
"Your Highness, congratulations on your great victory." Garlan knelt and bowed his head. The Reach had been procrastinating, and now the battle was over.
"You've arrived just in time, Ser Garlan. King's Landing hasn't fallen yet." Gendry put away Tiger Roar, that awe-inspiring greatsword shining brightly before Garlan.
"Yes, Your Highness." Garlan nodded. "The armies of The Reach will fully commit to taking the city. Additionally, we will transport grain and supplies to your army and King's Landing."
"Go prepare. King's Landing is almost out of wildfire."
"Yes." Garlan's heart bled; these were originally conditions for exchange, but now they had no choice... "Woo woo woo woo woo!" The sound of the war horn rang out again, along with the sound of war drums.
Tyrion crouched on the battlements, motionless like a gargoyle.
The fire obscured Tyrion's view; he could not see the battle on the south bank of the river. Not only could he not see it, but the Lysene climbing the walls probably couldn't either.
"Is the Old Gate ready?" Tyrion asked.
"It's being repaired quickly, my Lord," the guard replied. "The wildfire caused a huge explosion. Although it killed those screaming Antmen, the gate was completely destroyed."
"There's nothing to be done, hurry up and get it repaired," Tyrion ordered.
"I should thank Varys; he advised me to be wary, but that fool didn't get a specific list of the Antmen. Ultimately, the Storm army was too fast."
Tyrion looked at the river again. Outside the Mud Gate, across the ruins of what was once a fish market and dock, the river was ablaze. Half the fleet brought by the Lysene was on fire, and most of King Joffrey's ships were also burning.
Downstream, captains, noble or not, watched helplessly as rafts, barges, and derelict ships carrying deadly green fire came hurtling towards them down the Blackwater Rush.
Most of the Red Cloaks inside the castle were cheering, thinking they had won a crucial victory.
"What kind of victory is this?" Tyrion felt sick to his stomach. Still, their cheers at least boosted morale.
My schemes, my plans, yet others are using force against force. Tyrion felt bitter; all that was burning were the idiots from Lys or the slave masterss. These weren't good people, but they were also enemies of the Storm. Stannis's fleet was unscathed, and even more frightening, they could still land. As for the fighting on the south bank, Tyrion prayed that the scales of victory would not tip towards the Storm; it would be best if both sides suffered heavy losses.
On the river, some ships exploded from the wildfire, sending fountains of water dozens of feet into the air. Flames danced on the water, crackling and hissing, drowning out all the screams. Hundreds of people in the river were either drowning, on fire, or both.
"Even with the wildfire trap and the feigned weakness, the Storm didn't fall for it," Tyrion thought. He even felt it would have been better if Stannis had been the opponent. Duke Stannis lacked his brother Robert's eagerness for battle but possessed the style of Duke Tywin Lannister, preferring to command from the rear and direct reserves. The Storm, however, Robert's son, was a fierce warrior who prioritized the front lines and scouts, thriving on the battlefield.
"My ships!" King Joffrey shrieked hoarsely from the castle wall walkway, squeezed behind the battlements with his guards. His helmet bore a golden circlet signifying his royal status. "My King's Landing is burning! And Queen Cersei and Loyal. Look, Sea Flower is burning too, over there!" Joffrey pointed with his new sword, as green flames licked Sea Flower's golden hull, climbing up the oars. The captain urgently turned the ship upstream to evade, but could not escape the wildfire's clutches.
Once wildfire is unleashed, it cannot be controlled by human hands. Moreover, there were decades of old stock, making its quality extremely unstable.
"There's nothing we can do," Tyrion told his nephew, "our fleet will be destroyed no matter what."
"Don't worry about your ships, worry about your head." Tyrion looked at Joffrey, but the words couldn't be spoken. Bronn was just then whipping the cattle, the chain stretched across the river.
The current was unpredictable, and the wildfire didn't spread as evenly as Tyrion had hoped. This was something Tyrion hadn't anticipated, but it was enough. This substance was incredibly hot; flesh would melt like grease. Tyrion thought the attackers would be afraid, but the wildfire was also a one-time use.
Since the wildfire trap was uneven, those desperate enemies still made it to King's Landing: slave masterss from the Triarchy, slave soldiers from Yunkai, and their mercenary Knights. They came to King's Landing to burn, kill, and plunder.
"We must attack again," Tyrion thought. He saw the brutal situation on the river; most of the fleet was destroyed, some ships escaped to the south bank of the river, their fate uncertain. Others, the foremost ships, reached upstream before the wildfire exploded. A few grounded ships landed some soldiers on the dock. Troops are most vulnerable when stumbling ashore; the enemy cannot be given time to gather on the north bank.
Tyrion climbed down from the battlement. "Tell Lord Jacelyn there's enemy activity by the river, and also, hurry up and repair our northern gate. It seems the Storm has concentrated its main force on the south, but the Northmen haven't appeared yet." He said to one of the messengers sent by Bywater, then turned to another, "Please convey my regards to Ser Alynard and have him turn the three whores of king's landing thirty degrees to the west. Smash any ships, no matter whose they are." Although it wasn't enough to block the river, it could at least throw further.
"Mother promised I could command the three whores of king's landing," King Joffrey said. Tyrion was annoyed to find the King had again lifted his visor. The Child was undoubtedly stifling in his heavy steel armor… but at this moment, the last thing he wanted to see was an arrow piercing his nephew's eye.
"Clang!" Tyrion pulled down Joffrey's visor and explained. "Don't lift it, Your Majesty, your safety is precious to everyone. We need to act quickly; soon we will need the trebuchets, the wildfire will eventually burn out."
Joffrey left quickly, delighted.
"I still love my family, you Bastard, Cersei, and you?" Tyrion thought.
Besides two guards, twelve senior Gold Cloaks were ready at the bottom of the stairs to escort Joffrey.
After he had coaxed and tricked the brat away, Tyrion heard even worse news.
Shortly after the King left, a messenger, breathless, climbed the stairs. "My Lord, quickly!" He knelt on one knee. "Hundreds of Mercenaries from Lys and Tyrosh have landed at the Tourney Grounds! They're heading for the King's Gate with a battering ram."
Tyrion could only helplessly head straight for the King's Gate; he had to deal with the immediate problem. After mounting, he said nothing and galloped along the riverside road, Podrick and the Kingsguard, Ser Mandon Moore, struggling to keep up. Every door was shut, houses were shrouded in green light, and there were no people or horses on the road; Tyrion had long ago ordered the streets cleared so that the garrison could quickly move between the gates.
Tyrion heard the booming sound of wood being struck; it was the battering ram. The square in front of the King's Gate was full of wounded soldiers, but horses were lined up in several rows, many of them unharmed. The surviving Mercenaries and Gold Cloaks were enough to form a strong force.
"Everyone, form up!" Tyrion shouted as he jumped off his horse. The city gate shook under another impact. "Who's in charge here? Goddammit, charge out!"
"No." The Hound emerged from the shadows. The big man, The Hound, in smoky gray armor, tore off his helmet with both hands and threw it to the ground. The hideous dog-head helmet was charred and deformed, its right ear severed. Blood was flowing above one of The Hound's eyes, running over his old burn scars, covering half his face.
"You must go!" Tyrion looked directly at him.
Clegane's breathing was heavy. "Fuck you."
...The Old Gate, where a massive crater had been blasted by the wildfire explosion. Fortunately, sandbags had been prepared in advance, and the limited amount of wildfire allowed it to be extinguished.
The Antmen were obliterated in the wildfire bombing, their flesh and fat melting together, but it left a gaping hole where the gate once stood.
Carpenters and soldiers slowly built temporary structures with wood and sandbags, blocking the Old Gate, as they looked at the distant northern horizon. The sounds of battle and shouting filled the distant southern sky.
"How long will this last?" the carpenter whispered.
"I don't know…"
"They're quite loyal, aren't they?" Someone mourned the fate of the Antmen. "If The late King were still alive, alas, what a sin."
"Watch your words…" His companion immediately stopped him, glancing at the supervising Gold Cloaks.
Just then, the sound of northern hooves galloping on the Kingsroad carried over. It grew louder and louder, starting as a small wave, then a huge one.
The Gold Cloaks looked ahead and finally confirmed they were Northern soldiers.
"The enemy is here!" a soldier blew his horn and shouted loudly.
Gray and white direwolf banners, pink Flayer banners, giant banners waving pine trees, and the Mouton Family's trout banner appeared together.
Fur-clad Northmen appeared in their sight, along with the half-savages from the Claw Peninsula. They cheered, they roared, wielding warhammers, blunt axes, and also morning stars and flails.
"It's the Stark banner!"
"It's the House Crakehall banner!"
"It's the House Bolton banner," the soldiers said in terror, dropping their weapons and no longer bothering with the repaired gate.
"King's Landing has fallen!" Terror began to spread in all directions.
"Close call, I haven't missed it yet." Roose Bolton glanced at the King's Landing gate, and the army galloped across the land.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)