King's Landing – Southern Bank of the Blackwater Rush
Gendry cast a glance toward the Blackwater Rush to the north. Fierce fighting had already erupted across the river, where warships rammed one another in a brutal struggle. However, the true battlefield lay on the southern bank, where cavalry and infantry were preparing for a decisive clash.
The slave alliance had made a critical mistake.
Driven by greed, they wanted everything at once. While part of their fleet attacked through the river channel, those forces mostly belonged to the Yunkai'i slavers. Their losses would hardly weaken the coalition's primary army.
Rosso Brenn rode beside Gendry and quietly explained the enemy's composition.
"The Volantenes, Lysenes, and the refugees from the Free Cities all descend from Valyrian colonies. Yunkai, Meereen, Astapor, and New Ghis belong to the Ghiscari civilization. Toleros and Qarth have also joined this campaign."
He paused before adding thoughtfully,
"Only one major city-state is absent."
"Qarth—the City of the World."
Gendry nodded.
"This is already nearly every slave city united under one banner."
He looked across the vast battlefield where countless banners fluttered in the wind.
"It seems I was destined to fight the slavers eventually. I simply didn't expect the final confrontation to come so soon."
Across the field, Marajo calmly observed the advancing coalition. Though many underestimated him because of his age, his greatest strength had always been organization and military logistics.
Thousands of soldiers marched forward in disciplined ranks.
"Long live Volantis!"
"Long live the Harpy!"
"Long live the Red God!"
The deafening battle cries echoed across the plain.
The center of the formation consisted of Volantis' Tiger Cloaks, the Citizen Army, Lysene swordsmen, New Ghis' Iron Legion, and Astapor's Unsullied. Supporting them were Toleros' slingers and Qarth's crossbowmen.
On the left marched Meereenese and Yunkai'i slave soldiers alongside gladiators.
The right flank consisted almost entirely of hired mercenary companies, including the Windblown and the Stormcrows.
Marajo surveyed the battlefield with confidence.
"We've already persuaded several Khals from the Dothraki Sea to support us. Unfortunately, those horse lords refuse to cross the Narrow Sea."
Even without them, he remained convinced that victory was inevitable.
Before him stood the combined military strength of nearly every slave city in the known world.
If such an army could not defeat Gendry, then nothing could.
This battle would determine the future of slavery itself.
There would be no second chance.
---
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
The horns of the Stormlands answered with thunderous blasts.
Rows of infantry advanced together, raising massive ironwood shields reinforced with steel. The soldiers locked them together into a broad crescent formation that resembled a gigantic steel hedgehog, its flanks protected by deadly ranks of spears.
Anguy raised his bow.
"Draw!"
Thousands of longbows bent simultaneously.
"Loose!"
A storm of arrows filled the sky.
The legendary longbowmen of the Marches, together with expert archers from the Summer Isles, unleashed volley after volley into the advancing enemy.
Their first targets were the cavalry.
As horses collapsed beneath their riders, entire formations fell into chaos.
The muddy battlefield only made matters worse.
Warhorses slipped.
Infantry struggled to maintain formation.
Progress slowed dramatically.
Then another warning echoed across the battlefield.
"Trebuchets!"
Behind the shield wall, enormous counterweight trebuchets swung into motion.
Their giant throwing arms released with explosive force.
Hundreds of massive stones soared high into the sky before crashing down upon the advancing coalition.
The bombardment crushed men and horses alike.
Gendry watched calmly.
His strategy was simple.
Flood the battlefield.
Force the enemy into deep mud.
Hold them against an immovable shield wall.
Destroy them with missiles before launching the decisive assault.
One of House Baratheon's ancestors had once lost a battle because of muddy terrain.
Today, Gendry intended to win using the very same conditions.
Across the field, the Ragged Prince frowned.
"Damn it..."
The cavalry struggled through the soaked ground while arrows and stones rained endlessly overhead.
Charging recklessly would only lead to slaughter.
He quietly issued new orders.
"Advance carefully."
"Reduce marching speed."
The commands spread rapidly through the Windblown mercenaries.
Even he wasn't certain whether Volantis could overcome Gendry's preparations.
---
Gendry studied the enemy ranks carefully.
"We need to break their professional legions."
The Volantene Citizen Army occupied the center.
Behind them stood New Ghis' Iron Legion, trained almost identically to the Unsullied despite consisting of free Ghiscari citizens.
Further behind waited Astapor's four thousand Unsullied, maintaining flawless formation as the army's decisive reserve.
Despite suffering steady casualties, the coalition continued advancing.
They looked unstoppable.
Yet Gendry knew appearances could deceive.
No army was invincible.
Soon another specialized force entered the battlefield.
Two hundred Toleros slingers rushed forward beneath heavy protection.
Instead of ordinary stones, they launched soft lead bullets capable of crushing helmets and shattering bones.
Behind them followed Qarth's elite crossbowmen.
Lead bullets slammed into the Stormlands' shield wall.
Several soldiers collapsed, their helmets dented inward.
Still, the formation held.
Gendry immediately responded.
"Longbowmen!"
"Target the slingers and crossbowmen first!"
Another wave of arrows darkened the sky.
The exposed slingers suffered terrible casualties.
One after another, they collapsed before reaching effective range.
The survivors panicked and fled behind the protection of the main army.
Their attack had failed almost instantly.
Seeing the situation stabilize, Gendry and Ser Barristan withdrew behind the shield wall before riding toward the forest where the reserve assault force waited.
Ahead, the Volantene infantry finally collided with the Stormlands' defenses.
Like waves crashing endlessly against cliffs, they threw themselves at the shield wall.
"Attack!"
Longspears thrust.
Axes rose and fell.
Yet every opening created in the defensive line was immediately filled by fresh reserves.
One reckless axeman charged directly into the formation.
A dozen spears met him simultaneously.
One pierced straight through his breastplate, his lungs, and out his back.
His corpse remained hanging on the spear shaft before collapsing into the mud.
Bodies piled higher and higher.
Some attackers even climbed over the dead in an attempt to breach the wall.
Still, the line refused to break.
Gendry watched the Unsullied carefully.
"They aren't invincible," he murmured.
"They're simply trained harder than everyone else."
Nearby stood Krazz, the Astapori commander.
His thick body, amber skin, broad nose, and black eyes perfectly reflected traditional Ghiscari features.
Gendry narrowed his eyes.
"I've heard the Unsullied are controlled through some kind of command staff."
Ser Barristan followed his gaze.
"There."
The old knight pointed toward an ornate whip held by a slaver.
Its handle was carved from polished black dragonbone and decorated with gold. Nine leather lashes ended in gilded claws, while the pommel resembled a woman's head with ivory fangs.
"The Fingers of the Harpy."
Gendry smiled.
"So that's it."
"If we can capture that..."
He looked toward the disciplined Unsullied ranks.
"Some treasures don't need to be purchased."
"They simply need to be taken."
Just then, Ser Barristan suddenly shouted,
"Your Grace!"
"The elephants!"
Gendry turned.
Massive war elephants were finally entering the battlefield.
Fortunately, only a handful had survived the long sea voyage.
Even so, they remained dangerous.
Gendry gave his next command immediately.
"Switch the trebuchets."
"Load burning pitch barrels."
Elephants feared fire.
They feared dragons even more.
If his own dragon had been larger, he would have brought it without hesitation.
Moments later, flaming barrels soared through the air.
They burst across the muddy battlefield, scattering blazing pitch everywhere.
The elephants panicked instantly.
Their handlers struggled desperately to maintain control.
At the same time, enormous explosions erupted from the Blackwater Rush as fires spread across the river.
The terrified beasts became even more uncontrollable.
Rosso looked toward the confusion.
"Should we advance?"
Gendry shook his head.
"Hold the line."
"Not yet."
The Blackwater Rush had become a sea of chaos.
On the river, Volantis' warships continued their relentless advance, weaving between battered royal vessels as rams splintered hulls and grappling hooks locked ships together. What had begun as an organized naval assault had devolved into a brutal melee where every vessel fought for survival.
Landing, however, proved far more difficult than expected.
The riverbanks had been deliberately devastated before the battle. Every dockside warehouse, tavern, and fishing hut had been burned to the ground on Lannister's orders. Charred masts, shattered piers, and half-sunken ships littered the shoreline, preventing large transports from approaching the docks.
From one of the command ships, Magister Ren gazed toward the city.
"Is that the crystal of the Great Sept?" he asked.
His attendant nodded respectfully.
"Yes, my lord."
A greedy smile spread across Ren's face.
"Excellent. Westeros truly is wealthy. The Great Sept and the Red Keep must contain unimaginable treasures. Once King's Landing falls, we'll collect our interest."
Having lost nearly everything because of Gendry's rise, the exiled Magister of Tyrosh hated Westeros with every fiber of his being.
Suddenly, a lookout shouted.
"They're ramming!"
Two sleek Lysene warships surged forward together.
Their reinforced bronze rams smashed directly into the royal warship Lady's Shame, tearing through her hull with tremendous force. The impact split the vessel open from bow to stern before the attacking ships disengaged.
Water rushed through the massive breach.
Within moments, the Lady's Shame began to sink.
Sailors screamed as they leaped into the freezing river.
Those wearing heavy plate armor disappeared beneath the surface almost instantly, dragged down by the weight of their equipment. Others fought desperately to stay afloat while pieces of the shattered ship drifted around them.
Taking advantage of the opening, several Lysene and Tyroshi ships deployed boarding bridges.
Archers and swordsmen flooded onto the narrow stretch of shoreline between the cliffs and the river.
One Lysene commander sneered.
"The people of King's Landing really don't know their place."
The coalition possessed overwhelming numbers.
They could afford to divide their forces and attack from multiple directions simultaneously.
As more ships landed, stones, arrows, and javelins rained down from the city's walls.
However, the steep cliffs shielded much of the landing force from direct fire.
Despite suffering casualties, the attackers steadily established a foothold.
Then the defenders struck.
The gates burst open.
Knights thundered down the riverbank, their armored horses splashing through the shallows.
Like wolves descending upon sheep, they crashed into the enemy archers before many could even draw another arrow.
The Hound led the charge personally.
Mounted upon a massive destrier, Sandor Clegane swung his heavy battle axe with terrifying force.
"Get back, you sons of bitches!"
Every swing claimed another life.
Men were thrown aside like broken dolls.
None dared stand before him for long.
But the slavers had expected heavy losses.
They simply drove forward endless ranks of expendable Yunkai'i slave soldiers.
To them, opening the gates of King's Landing promised riches beyond imagination—and countless new slaves to replace those who died.
The slaughter continued.
Then someone suddenly shouted.
"What is that?"
A faint emerald light floated through the air.
The glowing object landed upon the deck of the Lysene flagship.
For one brief heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
Then green fire erupted.
Wildfire exploded across the ship with horrifying speed.
Flames raced over the deck like living creatures, devouring wood, sails, ropes, and flesh alike.
The burning sailors threw themselves into the river.
It made no difference.
The green flames clung to their bodies even underwater.
Their agonized screams echoed across the battlefield.
"Wildfire!"
"Retreat!"
Magister Ren stared in horror.
Another explosion erupted nearby.
The inferno engulfed the neighboring vessel as well, spreading from ship to ship with terrifying speed.
Ren's face turned pale.
"What is happening?"
"I thought the Alchemists had almost exhausted their wildfire supplies!"
No one answered.
Through the thick black smoke, the surviving captains suddenly noticed dozens of abandoned boats drifting slowly downstream.
Old ferries.
Rotting barges.
Broken fishing boats.
Half-sunken cargo ships.
At first glance, they looked harmless.
Ren laughed coldly.
"So this is their final trick?"
"It won't save them."
Some eager captains immediately ordered their men to seize the drifting vessels before they blocked the river.
One Yunkai'i ship successfully captured the nearest derelict.
The sailors cheered.
Then green liquid seeped through the cracks in the rotten hull.
An instant later—
BOOM!
The abandoned ship exploded into an ocean of wildfire.
The blast ignited every nearby vessel.
Within seconds, flames stretched across the river like a blazing wall.
Entire ships disappeared beneath emerald fire.
Thousands of men died before they even understood what had happened.
Marajo watched the disaster from afar.
"Idiots..."
He cursed through clenched teeth.
The naval commanders' greed had destroyed an entire section of the fleet.
Fortunately, the disaster had not affected his main army.
On land, the battle continued with increasing intensity.
Bodies covered the muddy field before the Stormlands' shield wall.
Wave after wave of attackers crashed against the defenders.
Whenever exhausted soldiers withdrew, fresh troops immediately replaced them.
The Volantenes used staggered assaults with remarkable discipline.
The Unsullied held the front line without hesitation while heavier infantry attacked the shield wall with axes and hammers.
For the first time, cracks began appearing in Gendry's defenses.
Blood soaked the mud until it resembled crimson clay.
Broken banners bearing the Harpy and the Volantene elephant lay trampled beneath thousands of feet.
Gendry studied the battlefield silently.
"We can't hold much longer."
Just then, Robar Royce galloped into the forest.
"Your Highness!"
"Our scouts have returned!"
Gendry turned.
"What news?"
"Tywin Lannister's army has appeared behind us."
"And House Tyrell?"
"They're here as well."
"Together?"
Robar shook his head.
"No."
"Tywin approached from the north."
"The Reach forces came from the south."
"There is still some distance between them."
Gendry smiled faintly.
"So they've finally arrived."
"The reserves from the Vale and the Claw Peninsula remain hidden."
"Everything has unfolded exactly as planned."
Scouts continued riding between the various armies.
Every report mattered.
Gendry asked another question.
"Has House Tyrell attacked?"
"No."
"Have they shown any intention of joining the battle?"
"Not yet."
Without hesitation, Gendry drew Orphan-Maker.
"Inform Lord Yohn."
"Order every trebuchet under his command to bombard House Tyrell's position immediately."
Robar blinked in confusion.
"Bombard... House Tyrell?"
"Yes."
"I need them to make a decision."
"They cannot remain neutral forever."
Robar saluted.
"At once, Your Highness."
Moments later, the trebuchets thundered once more.
Huge stones arced across the sky before crashing into the open fields near House Tyrell's army.
Although the bombardment caused few casualties, it created tremendous confusion.
Dust rose everywhere.
Soldiers scrambled into formation.
Trumpets sounded across the Reach host.
At last, Mace Tyrell arrived overlooking the battlefield.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
The Blackwater Rush burned with green wildfire.
Smoke rose from the city.
On the southern bank, the armies of the Stormlands and Volantis were locked in a desperate struggle.
"What in the Seven Hells happened here?"
Garlan Tyrell looked equally stunned.
"It's too late to hesitate, Father."
"If we neither attack nor withdraw now, the men's morale will collapse."
Mace frowned deeply.
"Tywin is also approaching."
"Perhaps we should wait..."
Before he could finish speaking, another wave of trebuchet stones crashed nearby.
The ground trembled violently.
Then shouts erupted throughout the Reach army.
Several banners had already advanced across the river without waiting for orders.
Mace's face darkened.
"Who gave that command?"
Lord Lando quickly identified the banners.
"Lord Florent."
"And Lord Matus."
"They thought the bombardment signaled the beginning of the attack."
Mace nearly exploded with rage.
"I never gave such an order!"
Garlan grabbed his father's arm.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"The battle has already begun."
Mace stared at the burning battlefield before finally clenching his fists.
"...Very well."
"We hold the advantage in numbers."
He raised his sword high.
"Advance!"
"We crush the Lannisters first."
Turning toward his eldest son, he added,
"Garlan, take our cavalry and reinforce King Gendry."
Without another word, the banners of House Tyrell surged forward, joining the greatest battle Westeros had seen in generations.
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