Game of Thrones: Oath of Iron and Fire-Chapter 47: The Golden Company’s Proposal

On Powdergrass Manor's training grounds, the gray-and-white banner of the Wolfpack fluttered alongside the Free Army's banner of broken shackles. In the center of the field, a lone figure faced a group of opponents, with a dozen or so spectators cheering them on.

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Gendry stood tall and agile in a black jerkin studded with nails, emblazoned with the Wolfpack's running wolf sigil. His opponents were Longspear, Steel Fist, and several Unsullied. Longspear and Steel Fist attacked from the flanks, while an Unsullied in a spiked helmet guarded the center.

"Bring it on!" Gendry waved them forward, inviting even wilder and more ferocious attacks.

The sweet song of steel rang out as the weapons clashed, creating a metal storm. Longspear's thrusts were vicious, darting out like a snake's strike, while the Unsullied moved with precise, disciplined coordination.

Gendry parried each strike with calm determination. Longspear's spear was particularly deadly, lunging with the precision of a venomous serpent. The Unsullied, trained to perfection, launched their attacks in unison.

Using his oak shield, Gendry blocked the lethal thrusts aimed at his vitals, while the rest of the blows landed harmlessly on his plate armor. He pressed forward, undeterred. The slight mismatch in the rhythm of Longspear, Steel Fist, and the Unsullied was all he needed.

First, Gendry disarmed Longspear, snapping the spear in two. As his opponent stumbled forward, Gendry deftly knocked him to the ground with a swift strike. Next, Steel Fist's roaring swing was met with Gendry's plate armor, absorbing the force. Gendry's mace then pounded against Steel Fist's oak shield, shattering it with repeated blows. The helm of Steel Fist dented slightly, and he surrendered, lowering his visor.

"Thud! Thud!" The Unsullied, ever the relentless frontline, pressed forward. Even in the training grounds, they were formidable opponents. Unlike ordinary men, the Unsullied felt no pain, their courage bolstered by the wine of courage and brutal training that made them fearless in the face of death and able to endure considerable agony.

The fight with the Unsullied was particularly intense. Desensitized to pain, they were far more challenging than ordinary warriors. Gendry's agility, strength, and resilience were put to the test. With each passing moment, he grew stronger, his stamina seemingly endless. Eventually, he gained the upper hand, defeating the Unsullied one by one.

Standing amidst the chaos of the training grounds, Gendry emerged victorious after several rounds of combat.

"[Bloodline: Stormblood (Activated, 40% Awakened)]" Gendry's Stormblood was slowly increasing, though progress was becoming more sluggish as he approached a bottleneck. Perhaps he needed even more formidable opponents to push further.

His innate abilities remained unchanged, inherited from the Baratheon line. [Talent: Lineage Resilience (Descendants of the stag are tall, strong, and fertile, often bearing children with dark hair and blue eyes). Storm Fury (When severely injured or enraged, unleashes even more ferocious and powerful attacks)].

The benefits of Stormblood were multifaceted: enhanced physical attributes like strength and speed, and a boost in attack power when injured or enraged.

"Well done, Commander!"

"Long live the Liberator!"

"This is the head wolf!" The onlookers cheered.

Gendry smiled at the crowd, helping the dazed Unsullied to their feet, and they all walked together to the resting benches. Longspear and Steel Fist, looking disheveled, joined them. Compared to the jousting tournaments, these brutal team battles were far more realistic for war.

"Commander, you're a natural warrior!" Handsome Harry commented. "In the stories I've heard, only Duke Cregan could match you!"

"The Wolf of Winterfell? The Wolfish Prime Minister!" Gendry perked up. Cregan Stark was widely regarded as the finest Stark lord since the Conquest. At eighteen, he raised an army to overthrow his uncle's regency, and by his twenties, he had achieved great success during the Wolfish era.

"Yes, Duke Cregan was not only a master tactician but also the finest swordsman of his time, according to the Dragon Knights," Handsome Harry said. "It's a pity his heir died in Dorne, leading to the long-standing chaos in Winterfell. We all thought Young Wolf Brandon could match Cregan's glory, but he was burned alive by the Mad King!"

"Speaking of which, the Wild Wolf was far superior to the current Lord Eddard. He was handsome, strong, and a skilled swordsman, with a temper that was the epitome of the Stark blood," Longspear added.

"Do you still miss the North?" Gendry asked, touching on a deeper topic.

"The North is our homeland, but the Disputed Lands are our home now. Since the Wolfpack arrived, we no longer serve the Starks as vassals," Longspear chimed in.

As they chatted, Maester Cale appeared at the edge of the training grounds. Their esteemed guest had arrived.

Gendry's heart lifted; it seemed his plan was working. The men they had sent to negotiate with other mercenary companies had done their job. They had spoken with the Second Sons and the Windblown, but deliberately avoided the Golden Company, whose members had caught wind of these discussions.

The Golden Company's envoy was a peculiar Valyrian, Gorold Eddon, the company's treasurer and de facto second-in-command. He was gaunt, with slick, blood-red hair curling over his shoulders. A leopard skin was draped over one shoulder, and the golden armlet he wore was worth a lord's ransom.

"Welcome, friend of the Golden Company!" the elderly maester greeted warmly.

But the Golden Company's envoy sensed an odd atmosphere. The Wolfpack's commander and other officers did not seem particularly enthusiastic.

"I come in the spirit of cooperation. Our captain wishes to ally with the Lord of the Wolfpack!"

"How so?" Gendry looked at the Golden Company's treasurer.

"You want the Disputed Lands, and we want to return to Westeros. It's a win-win situation!"

"Hahaha!" Laughter echoed from the tent. Even with the Golden Company, the combined forces of the Wolfpack and the Free Army would hardly be enough to challenge the established order in Westeros.

"Dear envoy, let me remind you, we lack ships and manpower!" Handsome Harry spoke up.

"Manpower!" the Golden Company's treasurer declared. "Our company boasts ten thousand men, the largest mercenary force. This includes five hundred knights, each with three horses, a squire, and an additional horse for the squire, not to mention the elephants. And you, Commander, can surely gather over five thousand men!"

"We need an entire pirate fleet to transport the army. Meanwhile, the lords loyal to the Iron Throne are well-prepared and waiting," Gendry pointed out the folly of the plan.

"The crossing to Westeros is not particularly wide. The fierce Maris made it back in his day; we can do the same. We are not short of gold," the Golden Company's treasurer insisted.

"Returning to Westeros is a tall order. Even in the days of the Penny Prince, with the combined forces of the Disputed Lands, Tyrosh, the Golden Company, and many Copper Kings, victory was elusive," Gendry argued.

"Commander's right, but we're not proposing an immediate attack. It's about cooperation. We won't hinder your expansion, and you support our landing in Westeros," the envoy countered.

"No," Gendry shook his head. "The plan is too risky. The wealthy Reach, the Westerlands, and many other foes await."

The Golden Company's treasurer's expression soured; it seemed his mission would be fruitless.

"But there are simpler options," Gendry suddenly offered a glimmer of hope.

"Myr has mercenaries, the Cat's Guild, and the Second Sons, to attack us. The Golden Company could strike at their rear. Victory would bring gold and deepen the Three Daughters' dependence on you," Gendry suggested.