The morning light was crisp and cold as Gendry and Qyburn followed their captain, "Handsome Man," out of the Wolf's Den. They were bound for their employer's estate in the Disputed Lands. The Wolf Pack's gray banner, emblazoned with a wolf pack, fluttered in the wind. The Disputed Lands lay farther south than King's Landing, with a milder climate, and like the capital, they were close to the sea.
Gendry rode with his companions across broad plains, passing villages, towns, low hills, and winding streams. Slaves labored tirelessly in the fields, while Magisters and nobles alike owned estates throughout the region.
The Wolf Pack numbered around forty men, and both Gendry and Qyburn were among them. This was their first mission with the Company. From time to time, they encountered other Sellswords. Brief greetings were exchanged before both sides moved on. Sellswords never truly trusted one another.
Gendry wore black scale armor. Strapped to his saddle were his spiked warhammer, a purpleheart longbow gifted by Fletcher Dick, a Myr crossbow, and a dagger.
Maester Qyburn looked far more at ease. The old healer was treated with respect and rode a gentle, placid old horse.
Four scout riders ranged far ahead, surveying the road and watching for danger.
The Disputed Lands were never peaceful. This region in southwestern Essos had long been contested by the three Free Cities of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh, with Volantis occasionally joining the struggle. Since the collapse of the Three Daughters, the endless conflicts here had kept countless Sellswords fed and employed.
"The Disputed Lands are divided into two parts," Handsome Man said, lifting his riding crop. "Closer to the Three Daughters are the towns and estates under their control. There's some order there, and Sellswords generally won't cross the Magisters or rich merchants. The Myrish plant fire herb on their estates, the raw material for Myrish wine. The Tyroshi grow pear trees and raise pigs. As for the Lyseni, they cultivate red and white grapes and fragrant herbs for perfumes. But the middle zone—that's where the Three Daughters fight each other outright, and where Sellswords and adventurers slaughter one another. If you want to live longer, stay out of that circle."
Gendry nodded. The Disputed Lands were like a poisonous trap. The deeper one went, the more dangerous it became. More chaos, more cruelty.
Cities like the Three Daughters, with their highly developed crafts, depended on the surrounding towns, lands, and estates for raw materials. Even mighty Volantis, the largest of them all, ruled three vassal towns comparable in size to cities in Westeros.
"Keep your eyes open, lads," Handsome Man warned. "There are more Sellswords in the Disputed Lands than fish in a river. Plenty of them are exiles and bandit Sellswords."
Once a Sellsword abandoned discipline, he quickly became little more than a raider and plunderer.
"The fall of Valyria shaped Essos as it is today."
Like the collapse of a great civilization followed by barbarian invasions and imperial fragmentation, the land bore the scars of history. Gendry watched the land roll beneath him, its contours gentle, with hardly any tall mountains in sight. Such fertile soil, yet ever since Valyria's doom, it had been trapped in endless conflict.
The Three Daughters fought over the Disputed Lands and the Stepstones, while the war between Pentos and Braavos ended in Pentos's crushing defeat. Beyond slavery, the conflict was also about control of fertile lands and vital waters between the two cities.
Most terrifying of all was the rise of the Dothraki. Four hundred years ago, they swept westward from the east toward the Free Cities, pillaging and burning every town and city in their path. The Kingdom of Sarnor fell, as did the Qartheen cities of the Red Waste and the Ibben settlements of the Kingdom of the Ifequevron.
Their advance was finally halted when Khal Temmo and his khalasar of at least fifty thousand were stopped by the Unsullied of Qohor. During the Bloody Centuries after the Valyrian Doom, the Dothraki drove smallfolk from their huts and nobles from their estates, leaving nothing but grasslands and ruins from the Forest of Qohor to the headwaters of the Selhoru River.
"This is what we're here to protect," Handsome Man said. "The fire herb estate."
After staring at him for a while, Gendry found that even the captain's scarred face looked almost kind.
The Wolf Pack finally halted before a Myrish-style manor, its grounds sprawling across an entire hillside.
Gendry gazed out over a vast stretch of onion-green plants, about waist-high, their edges already tinged with iron-brown.
"Those are Myrish fire herbs. Extremely valuable," Handsome Man explained. Myrish fire herbs could be used to treat cuts, and their price was anything but cheap.
"This is my first time seeing an entire Myrish fire herb estate," Qyburn said. As a Maester, he naturally knew the medicinal value of Myrish fire herbs, but this was the first time he had ever seen a whole hillside covered in them.
Gendry had already heard about their employer from his companions. The one who had hired the Wolf Pack was a Magister of Myr. The Magisters of Myr owned private holdings throughout the Disputed Lands, vast farms and mines alike, though they rarely visited in person. This particular Myrish fire herb estate was special. The value of the herb was simply too great, as it was used to produce Myrish fire ointment and Myrish firewater. On top of that, the estate lay close to the core of the Disputed Lands, which meant the Magister had no choice but to hire Sellswords to guard the estate during harvest season.
When the lookouts at the Myrish fire herb estate spotted the Wolf Pack's banner, they blew their horns. The sound was long and steady, not sharp and hurried.
"They're here! My old friends! I've already had hot water and meals prepared for you!"
The estate steward stepped out to greet Handsome Man and the Sellswords, accompanied by several slaves. The steward was a freeborn man of Myr with olive-colored skin, not a slave himself.
"Thank you for the trouble, Steward Luff," Handsome Man said as he stepped forward.
"I've been waiting for you for quite some time. This time of year always makes me the most anxious."
"Don't worry, old friend. You've always been like this. With us guarding the place, these Myrish fire herbs will make it safely to Myr," Handsome Man said with a hearty laugh, waving his hand as the Sellswords followed him into the estate.
"How is this year's harvest?" Handsome Man asked. He and Steward Luff walked at the front together, clearly old acquaintances.
"This year is much the same as usual. The yield hasn't changed," Steward Luff replied. "But some other estates were hit by insect infestations, and their Myrish fire herb harvests were cut in half. That actually means we'll make a tidy profit. That's exactly why the Magister sent you. Once the price of Myrish fire herbs soars, those bandit Sellswords will only grow more reckless."
"Gold is the hard currency of the Disputed Lands," Handsome Man said. "Myrish fire herbs and wine aren't bad either."
"Exactly. That's why the Magister is even more uneasy. Myrish fire herbs aren't wheat or corn. They're worth as much as gold."
Gendry listened quietly to their conversation. Sellswords loved gold above all else. And when there was no gold to be had, Myrish fire herbs and wine came next.
Steward Luff had already made the arrangements. The horses were led off to the stables, and all the Sellswords were guided toward the manor's great hall. Hot water awaited them, along with warm, hearty meals.