The boundless sky stretched overhead, the sea a deep blue beneath it, and the beautiful white city of Myr stood with its gates wide open. Across the water lay an endless fleet of warships. Though they varied in size, together they had sealed off Myr's coastline.
Gray-white banners fluttered in the wind. As the jubilant knights stepped into the city, the clamor gradually died away. Steel Fist had already led part of the Free Company into Myr to restore order, alongside the Second Sons under Brown Ben.
Gendry rode a Dornish steed, taking in the lovely city before him. Myr—the City of Craftsmen among the Three Daughters.
Behind him stood five hundred of the most elite Wolf Pack knights, all clad in black plate armor, like a forest of dark steel. Next came the knights of the Long Lances, whose equipment and bearing were noticeably inferior to the Wolf Pack cavalry. After them marched the infantry of the Wolf Pack and the Free Company.
"Long live freedom! Long live the Lord Commander!"
The slaves roared their welcome to the Breaker, filling the streets of Myr. As for Myr's nobles and the Magister, few dared to appear. Some had fled, others had gone into hiding. In Myr, the ratio of slaves to free folk was roughly three or four to one. Either way, slaves made up the majority.
"Do not damage those fine workshops and docks. That would be sheer waste. And if anyone takes advantage of the chaos to loot or rape, I don't want to hear of it!" Gendry said to the Longspears at his side.
"Yes, Lord Commander!"
The Longspears departed at once, taking several Free Company soldiers with them. During the siege, order in Myr had indeed collapsed. There had been banditry, robbery, even murder. Exiled sellswords and some of the rebellious slaves were particularly vicious. But with the main army's entry, order was quickly restored, and those who sought to profit from the turmoil were swiftly dealt with.
Maintaining order came first. In this age, military discipline was often a sorry affair. The armies of Tywin or the lords of the North were hardly models of restraint; Tywin in particular liked to unleash his vicious hounds upon enemy lands. Among the famous commanders, only Stannis and Randyll Tarly were known for strict discipline.
Order was handled by Steel Fist. Intelligence fell to Maester Qyburn. Wealth was tallied by the Handsome Man. Control of the fleet rested with Captain Hallis. The division of duties was clear and well drilled.
My army. My steel. They must be disciplined, and they must be resolute, Gendry thought. The Wolf Pack already kept good order, and the Free Company—born of the oppressed lower classes—were far easier to mold into a disciplined force than those unruly sellswords.
"Brown Ben, you endured much with the Second Sons. Your contribution is no small one," Gendry said, looking approvingly at Brown Ben, who knelt on one knee before him. The Second Sons had pledged themselves to the Magisters of Myr, only to open the city's defenses at a critical moment and allow the Wolf Pack inside.
"I am a loyal subordinate of the Lord Commander. I dare not claim credit," Brown Ben replied, his heart pounding. Against the overwhelming might before him, the five hundred sellswords of the Second Sons—who had shifted their loyalties more than once—were nothing. In the face of absolute strength, schemes and calculations meant little.
"You've done well. I want you to continue participating in Myr's defense. You know the old Myr nobles."
"Yes!"
Brown Ben felt as if the cold fingers of the Others were brushing his spine. Maintaining order in Myr and eliminating the influence of the old noble factions would make him many enemies. But he had already completely offended the Myrish. There was no turning back now.
"Enter the city!"
Gendry lifted his riding crop. Myr was the first city he had conquered. Yet entering it did not mean total victory. The Myrish nobles who dreamed of restoration still lurked in the shadows.
In truth, Myr was already fragmented. Many of the old Magisters had fled for their lives. The city's ruling structure had scattered like withered leaves swept away by an autumn wind.
With the exile of the Myrish nobles, many mansions and estates now stood vacant. Gendry established the Wolf Pack's headquarters in the Magister's residence, a beautiful white manor.
Inside the elegant council chamber of the residence, Gendry was discussing his plans for governing Myr with Maester Qyburn. Myr was the first great city under his control, and the order established here would serve as the model for those yet to come.
"Conquering Myr is only the first step. The real key is ruling it for the long term," Gendry said to Qyburn.
"A brief conquest means nothing. Only lasting conquest is true rule." The white-haired Qyburn fell into thought. After the Century of Blood, all Three Daughters had been conquered at one time or another, yet each eventually regained its independence. Lys and Myr had been ruled by Volantis for two generations. More recently, during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Tyrosh had fallen under the control of Silvertongue Alequo Adarys for seven or eight years.
"Destruction makes way for renewal. If submitting to the Magisters of Myr cannot bring peace, then we will create a new order. We'll rely on freed slaves and smallfolk, and strike at the slave traders and the Magisters." This was the world Gendry envisioned. Once slavery was abolished, many would naturally bind themselves to his cause.
"What concerns me most is the balance of power," Qyburn said. "Whenever a power tries to seize the Three Daughters, other forces rise to oppose it. In the past, Braavos, Pentos, even the Stormlands resisted Volantis's expansion. Now that we've overthrown slavery, Volantis remains our greatest threat. Tyrosh and Lys are even closer at hand."
"We prepare for war while restoring Myr's strength," Gendry replied, laying out his design. "I will restructure Myr's power system. The Magister Council will be abolished. The Assembly's authority will be expanded, and we will fill it with escaped slaves, Myrish craftsmen, and merchants who have fully submitted. Myr will have no Magister. I will serve as its temporary Lord Governor."
"Lord Governor." Qyburn considered the word. "Not a bad name. Its meaning is clear at a glance."
Gendry's plan was to establish the position of Lord Governor first. A coronation could come later. Without breaking Lys and Tyrosh, greater ambitions would still face obstacles.
"A fine catch this time, Lord Commander!"
As the two were still in discussion, Hallis, the Wolf Pack's naval commander, strode in with a broad grin.
"One hundred and forty ships of the Myr fleet are still in the harbor. They're ours now. Only seventy were taken away by the fleeing Magisters!"
"So we've become a dominant force in the Narrow Sea," Gendry said.
"Yes, Lord Commander. With our fleets combined, we're no small power," Hallis explained. "The Iron Fleet of Westeros has about a hundred ships restored to strength. With the Ironborn all sailors and fighters, they could put even more to sea if needed. The Redwyne fleet numbers two hundred ships, and the royal fleet stands at around two hundred and ten."
Add to that Myr's one hundred and forty great warships, along with the two hundred assorted vessels of all sizes from the Stepstones. And beyond those, Myr possessed even more transport ships, cargo vessels, and merchantmen. In terms of strength at sea, the Wolf Pack's maritime power had grown dramatically.