From the battlefield on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush, the distant sky glowed emerald and orange. Farther off, another vast battlefield was raging.
King's Landing had become the center of every kind of chaos. West, south, north, and soon the warships approaching from the east. It was being surrounded from all sides.
Outside King's Landing, roses and lions clashed to the west, while stags and elephants fought on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush. The river was choked with flames and shattered warships, with lines of corpses drowned or burned. The survivors were searching for every crack in the collapsing defenses to force their way into King's Landing. Explosions still sounded from within the city, and the North Gate was also on the verge of collapse.
On the south bank of the Blackwater Rush, Lothor, Jon, and the others were helping restore order. The Volantenes and their allies had been timid opponents to begin with, and now they dared not resist at all.
Gendry jumped down from his horse and calmed the black warhorse, the one the Red Viper had given him. Riding for so long was exhausting too. Today, he had truly fought from beginning to end. He still wished the dragon were a little bigger, so he could simply ride it instead.
A man dressed as a servant from Malaquo's camp knelt before Gendry. "Breaker, I have a gift for you. It was Lord Malaquo's beloved possession." He knelt on one knee and offered up a jeweled box. It was an intricately carved wooden box with an emerald lid inlaid with jade and chalcedony.
"You have already been liberated," Gendry said, looking at the man without reaching for the gift.
The box fell to the ground. Inside was a gleaming green beetle carved from agate and emerald, with a vicious black face that resembled a human's, and a curved tail dripping venom.
"Prince, be careful!" Ser Barristan shouted. Ser Garlan Tyrell also rushed to Gendry's side to shield him.
"I am sorry," the man said softly. Then he raised his hand, and the miniature crossbow hidden beneath his robe fired twice in quick succession, the bolts gleaming with a vicious sheen. The safest plan had been for Gendry to take the box, but there was no helping it now. The assassination had to be carried out with the crossbow.
"Clang! Clang!"
Gendry moved with agile speed, slipping clear of the bolts' path. His greatsword Tiger's Roar came up before him, and the bolts struck the broad face of the blade along their trajectories. The assassin had been a step too slow from the beginning. The Sorrowful Man's eyes widened in disbelief.
Garlan Tyrell saw it clearly as well. That speed and skill were almost impossible to believe. It felt as if Gendry had known the attack was coming.
"Protect the Breaker!" The Volantis Unsullied behind Gendry, Malaquo's former guards, rushed forward with their swords, killing the venomous insect at once and forming a defensive screen.
Ser Barristan followed with sword in hand and closed on the Sorrowful Man. An assassin was still only an assassin. Without surprise on his side, he was no match in a direct fight. Ser Barristan's longsword swept across the Sorrowful Man's figure. Steel flashed, blood sprayed, and a black mist appeared across the Sorrowful Man's face before he collapsed.
"There is poison in his molars," Ser Barristan said after carefully examining the Sorrowful Man's corpse.
Then Ser Barristan asked Malaquo's Unsullied attendants, "Do you know this man?"
The guards shook their heads. "We do not seem to know him well. We only noticed him today."
"He was one of the Sorrowful Men," Gendry said.
"The Qarthians have provoked me again and again." Gendry tightened his grip on Tiger's Roar, his voice cold. Relying on their wealth, the Qarthians had first sent Warlocks to lure him into the House of the Undying, and now the Sorrowful Men had arranged an assassination.
One day, he would use dragons to send those Qarthians flying into the sky.
"We and the Qarthians are enemies, not friends," Ser Barristan said. "They are also a slave state. I heard from the prisoners that although the Qarthians did not send a navy or camel troops, they did provide supplies."
"Keep this quiet for now. There will be time."
"Yes."
The Meereenese prisoner Sizzdara and the Yunkai Grand Marshal were both scared out of their wits, afraid the Westerosi would implicate them and execute them all on the spot.
"Prince Gendry, we have cut apart and destroyed the main Volantis formation, and taken quite a few prisoners." Lord Caron, exhausted to the bone, came before Gendry. His face was still smeared with soot and blood. His shield had been broken more than once, and the edge of his sword was chipped.
Even so, Lord Caron was still excited and delighted. For a sweet victory like this, what did a little sacrifice matter? They had chased the enemy down and cut them apart. That was what the Knights of the Stormlands should look like.
Gendry looked at Caron. "Well done, Lord Caron. All of you have worked hard."
"Long live the Storm!" Lord Caron clenched his fist and shouted happily. "However you command us, that's how we'll fight!"
"Good." Gendry appreciated Lord Caron's attitude. There was no need to think too much. Just be a proper tool. He gave the order, they followed it. That was the life of a brute.
Gendry truly had not seen many famous generals from the Stormlands who were both brave and cunning, capable in both letters and war. Perhaps Ser Barristan counted, and Uncle Stannis as well, but like Tywin, Stannis sat in the rear. The tempo of battle and the use of scouts and vanguards were his weaknesses, perhaps because he had fought too few land battles. The plot-kill at the Blackwater Rush had been arranged that way.
"Lord Caron, you and Jon will be responsible for clearing the battlefield. Establish a camp by the Blackwater Rush and settle these prisoners who have come from so far away. Sort the spoils properly. Do not cram the prisoners' tents too tightly. Keep sanitation in order, and make sure the food is enough that they do not starve, but not so poor that disease spreads among them."
"Yes." Lord Caron nodded. In truth, there would not be too many prisoners. The war had been bloody. The citizen soldiers of Volantis and New Ghis, along with the Lysene swordsmen, had been almost wiped out, while many slave soldiers had simply defected and surrendered.
"My lord, I..." Jon's face flushed red, as though he felt the weight of a heavy responsibility on his shoulders.
"No buts. This is my order."
"Lord Sizzdara, Grand Marshal of Yunkai, you are my noble prisoners. I will arrange good tents for you. Are you satisfied with this arrangement?" Gendry looked at the two men sitting in folding campaign chairs. Neither dared say another word.
After seeing him evade even an assassination by the Sorrowful Men so easily, they had utterly lost hope of resisting or escaping.
"Thank you, Prince." The commander of Meereen did not dare say anything more.
"We agree," the Yunkai Grand Marshal said miserably.
"The Windblown are at your command!"
"The Stormcrows are at your command!"
"The Iron Shields are at your command!"
"The Maiden's Men as well!" The leaders of the other Sellsword companies hurriedly lowered their heads, hoping to avoid being sent to the prisoner camp.
"In this war, I shot and killed Oznak zo Pahl, the commander of Meereen. I killed Kraznys mo Nakloz of Astapor, and others besides. Daario, captain of the Stormcrows. Khrazz, the Gladiator of Meereen. Malaquo, the Lord Governor of Volantis. Now, only King's Landing remains before me."
"Yes, Prince." Ser Garlan nodded. That long list was not mere boasting. It was a naked display of force, the glory of the coming Storm.
"Please allow me to break King's Landing and display the glory of knighthood!" Garlan requested.
...
In the square outside The King's Gate, the negotiation between Tyrion Lannister and the Hound had ended in failure.
A Sellsword stepped forward to explain. "We went out, Lord. Three sorties in all, and we lost half our men. Wildfire is everywhere. Horses screaming like men, men screaming like horses."
"Did you think I hired you for a tourney? Did you expect a nice cup of iced milk and a bowl of berries? Hah? Get on your fucking horse! You too, Hound."
The blood on Clegane's face gleamed red, but his eyes were deathly pale. He slowly drew his longsword, moving as if he were drunk.
Tyrion looked at the Hound's expression and understood. He was afraid. "We have to stop them!"
"Open the gate, let them in, then surround them and kill them. They're just a pack of Sellswords and slave traders." The Hound thrust his sword into the ground and leaned on the hilt, his body swaying. "I've already lost half my men, and there aren't many horses left. I won't burn the whole company alive."
"You must obey the Hand of the King's orders," the white knight Ser Mandon shouted.
"Fuck the Hand of the King," the Hound said. Half his face was sticky with blood, while the other half was whiter than milk. "Get me something to drink!"
A Gold Cloak officer handed him a cup. The Hound took one sip and spat it out at once, then flung the cup away with the back of his hand. "Water? Fuck your water! Bring me wine!"
Tyrion looked at the Hound and could only give up. The Hound's fear would spread, and Mandon had the face of a dead fish and no one's affection. It seemed he would have to do it himself.
"Very well. I will lead the charge."
The Hound burst out laughing. "You."
Tyrion saw the doubt on everyone's faces and gave his order in a voice that allowed no argument. "Yes, me. Ser Mandon, you will carry the king's banner. Pod, my helmet."
"Form ranks!" Tyrion shouted.
He saw the confusion on every face. He needed a few words to stir them.
"You call me a half-man," Tyrion said. "So tell me, what do you whole men have that I don't?"
His words struck them hard. Then they would fight together.
…
King's Landing, Flea Bottom. It lay somewhere near the center of the city.
Gold Cloak spearmen held their Longspears high, patrolling the street corners and cursing at people.
"Get back inside, you filthy drunk."
In this chaos, plenty of drunkards wanted to slip out and loot, but Lord Bywater had already sent Gold Cloaks to keep order.
Then from the Old Gate came the thunder of hooves, rumbling like a storm. It was not the terrifying roar of wildfire from before, but the clear, unmistakable sound of cavalry.
"It's the enemy. That sound means the enemy has broken through from the north," a Gold Cloak knight realized.
"We should run too."
"Run!"
The Gold Cloaks scattered at once, fleeing for their lives and abandoning the drunken mob entirely. Some of the bolder ones even stripped off their cloaks and blended into the rioters. Plenty of Gold Cloaks had come from Flea Bottom themselves.
"The Northerners! The barbarians from the North and Crackclaw Point are here!"
The news exploded through the city like thunder, and King's Landing boiled over.
The mob surged forward, trying to open the Iron Gate and the Gate of the Gods, while Flea Bottom fell into utter chaos. Many others began rushing toward the Red Keep, the safest place in the city.
"The Weeping Red Star lights our path! Disaster has come because of the Lannisters. The Kingslayer killed the old king, and the Kingslayer's whore killed the late king!" a foul-smelling prophet shouted, and more and more people joined his procession.
"Divine punishment!"
"Divine punishment!"
The prophet cried out the slogan, and then more and more voices took it up, rushing toward the Red Keep and Aegon's High Hill.
There was not just one prophet in King's Landing. Several had appeared. Chaos spread through the entire city. Fire, killing, riots, and looting.
More and more people joined the uprising, until all of King's Landing sank into a kind of doomsday revel.
"Why are they out again? Didn't they say no one was allowed outside?" Joffrey asked. The situation frightened him, and just then the Queen Dowager ordered him back to the Red Keep.
But on the road back, he saw dense crowds everywhere, starving people waving their arms. A ragged, starving sea of humanity, stirred up by the prophets to destroy everything.
Once Joffrey left, the defenders of King's Landing lost the last of their resolve. Hundreds upon hundreds of Gold Cloaks threw down their spears and fled with him.
The king's mounted party ran into the prophet's crowd.
"A riot! It's a riot!" Joffrey's guard said, his face pale. The filthy, ragged, unkempt crowd was terrifying.
"The king is here!" someone suddenly shouted. "I saw him when I went to petition him."