The Wolf Pack's banners still fluttered above the estate. Knights of the Wolf Pack charged out through a side gate, their armor making them look even more imposing. Longswords hung at their waists, steel ringing against scabbards in a song of iron. Along with swords, they carried longspears, spiked warhammers, and flails.
Purplebeard looked at the dead runaway slaves strewn across the ground and along the walls, as insignificant as ants beneath his gaze. His eyes were cold as ice.
"So the Wolf Pack really does live up to the stories," he said flatly. "A bunch of hard bones."
"Boss," the treasurer behind him muttered. "Without siege engines, it'll be hard to grind this estate down. This is the Magister's most important property, and the defenses are tight."
"What's there to be afraid of?" Purplebeard sneered. "He's just a Magister. Don't we have Magisters backing us as well?"
"What do you think, Lord Rust?" Purplebeard asked the tall, gaunt man behind him, a hint of ingratiation creeping into his voice.
"Even if this is our first attack, we can't retreat so easily," the tall man said. His hair was the color of rust, his skin pale, his eyes cold and lifeless. In his hand was a Dothraki arakh.
"Kill them!"
The Wolf Pack crashed into Purplebeard's bandit knights, and the battlefield dissolved into chaos. In the rear, the runaway slaves saw how things were turning and began to scatter into the night.
The Sellswords fought in a brutally straightforward way, hacking and killing without hesitation. Purplebeard's men were better armored than expected. No wonder they'd dared to charge.
"Follow me!" Handsome Man shouted, swinging his longsword as he tangled with Purplebeard himself. The fighting grew even more chaotic.
One Wolf Pack brother was pinned to the ground by a bandit knight's spear, while Longspear's horse lashed out with its hind legs and shattered an enemy's spine.
The Wolf Pack were fewer in number, but fiercer and better trained. Purplebeard's men were many, yet loose and disordered. One reckless bandit knight charged straight at Gendry. Gendry swung his warhammer and struck him square in the chest, crushing through leather armor, hide, muscle, and lung. The man died on the spot.
Gendry watched the blood cool on the corpse as he pulled his warhammer free. Without breaking stride, he spurred forward and attacked again.
A bandit infantryman thrust a spear at Gendry's chest. Gendry swept it aside with his hammer, forcing the man to leap back. A heartbeat later, the Wolf Pack's instructor, Morningstar, wheeled his horse around and trampled the bandit beneath its hooves.
Another javelin flew in from Gendry's right, thudding into his wooden shield. Gendry charged the thrower without mercy. The man raised his shield over his head as Gendry rode circles around him. The spiked warhammer fell like a rainstorm, oak splinters bursting into the air. Shields of nightwood or steel were truly good shields. An oak shield was far inferior.
Crash.
Gendry's warhammer tore through in a whirlwind of death. Half the bandit knight's face caved in at once, blood, brain matter, and shattered bone spraying outward as the man crumpled to the ground.
"Careful!" Gendry shouted when he spotted Morningstar.
For some reason, Morningstar was no longer mounted. Perhaps his horse had been speared and thrown him. In the thick of the crowd, that was deadly dangerous. He stood among the enemy, swinging his spiked morningstar again and again. His skill was superb, and several men had already fallen beneath his blows.
"Watch closely, boy!" Morningstar laughed, but the grin quickly drained from his face as a bandit's crossbow bolt struck him.
"Die!"
A tall, lean bandit knight burst out from behind Morningstar. His curved blade was vicious, and he pressed the attack relentlessly. The man wielding the arakh struck fast and hard, forcing Morningstar back. Worse still was the dagger.
The rust-haired man found his opening and drove the blade into the gap between Morningstar's arm guard and breastplate, slipping it in beneath the armpit. Blood spilled out at once.
Such was the fate of a Sellsword.
"I'm sorry," Morningstar said, a bleak smile crossing his face before he collapsed to the ground and closed his eyes.
"No!" Gendry was trapped in his own brutal fight, unable to reach Morningstar in time.
Seeing Morningstar fall, something inside Gendry snapped. It was as if he had become a living storm. He raised his warhammer and launched into a frenzied assault, the raging battlefield setting his blood ablaze.
Gendry swung his spiked warhammer as a savage force surged through his body. He smashed two bandit knights beside him straight to the ground, then charged directly at the rust-haired bandit knight.
"Boy, are you looking to die too?" The rust-haired bandit drew his dagger and calmly wiped the blood from it with a strip of fine white silk. Two mortal enemies faced each other amid the press of bodies.
"Come on!" Gendry leapt from his horse. He said nothing more and swung his warhammer without hesitation. Morningstar had been his comrade, his instructor.
"I wouldn't mind cutting out your heart as well," the rust-haired knight sneered, raising his long, deeply curved blade. It was a weapon favored by the Dothraki, made for slashing and carving. From horseback, it could tear long, deep wounds, especially against those without heavy armor.
The clear ring of steel filled the air, the opening notes of a dance of death. Gendry wore a helmet and black scale armor. His rust-haired opponent wore only mail and no helmet at all. Gendry's great bull-horned helm protected his head, but his neck and face were still exposed.
"You've earned the right to know my name," the man said coldly. "Boy, I am a gladiator of Meereen. Khrazz the Rusted. Undefeated."
Khrazz moved with terrifying speed. His arakh whistled through the air, the flashing blade falling like a sudden rain, seeking to overwhelm Gendry. Every strike aimed for his throat or his skull.
Gendry held fast. He met every blow with his warhammer and oak shield. Steel slammed against steel.
He felt as though his strength had no end, a roaring fury and storm surging through him. A Meereenese gladiator like this was not someone Purplebeard could easily afford to hire.
"A bandit is still a bandit. A coward!" Khrazz snarled.
The tide of battle was shifting fast. Handsome Man's men fought like madmen, while Purplebeard's forces were growing desperate, struggling to hold their ground. Even Khrazz felt the pressure. Amid the clash of iron, his opponent's strength was savage and unrelenting.
"Hah!"
Khrazz's arakh struck Gendry's black scale armor. The impact sent blood surging through Gendry's body, but the blade failed to break through the scales. Gendry's counter came in the same instant. His warhammer smashed into Khrazz's face, tearing a hole through his cheek. Bright blood burst out as Khrazz screamed in agony.
"Coward! Coward hiding in iron!" Khrazz roared.
He had no helmet. Only mail.
That was Gendry's chance.
Bang!
Gendry's warhammer crashed down like the coming of a storm god. The sheer force of the blow drove Khrazz back, his footing shaken.
Khrazz howled and lunged forward, his arakh flashing up and down in a desperate bid to carve out a way to live.
Gendry blocked only the strikes aimed at his head. Khrazz's blade bit into his arm again and again, but it did nothing. This was no Valyrian steel.
"Die!"
The two fought without pause until Gendry's spiked warhammer came down with crushing force on Khrazz's chest, shattering his body.
Khrazz collapsed to the ground, lifeless.