The air on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush was thick with the smell of fire. Many of the dead who had come from across the sea were stripped of anything valuable, then buried where they lay, tossed into a single pit. As the losers of the war, they were not going to receive better treatment.
Inside the great command tent remained Gendry, Ser Barristan, Selwyn Tarth, and a number of Gendry's retainers, including Lothor Brune, Anguy, Ser Guyard Morrigen of the Stormlands, and others. Outside the tent, besides Stormlands knights, several Volantene Unsullied taken from Malaquo's side stood guard.
At the entrance of the tent, Gendry's armor stood like a sentinel. The full suit was black as ink, with a stag and dragon carved from black and red crystal upon the breastplate. Beside it was Gendry's twin-pronged helm, where the leaping stag and roaring dragon seemed to form two enormous horns.
"Your spare armor," Ser Lothor said.
"That spare suit is yours." Gendry smiled. "Armor alone is not enough to show your merits in the Battle of the Blackwater Rush." Besides the armor, there would naturally be lands to follow.
Lothor thanked him awkwardly, though that spare suit of armor was indeed rather too large.
"As the King's heir, once you enter King's Landing, we must uphold fairness and law," Ser Barristan said in a clear, ringing voice.
"Cersei and the Kingslayer produced bastards. That is the first crime. Then comes murder. The traitors murdered the King, as well as Jon Arryn and 'Eddard Stark.' Such monstrous crimes must receive a just trial, and those are only the beginning. I witnessed with my own eyes how King Aerys's folly began with Varys. That Eunuch cannot be forgiven. And that white-bearded old man Pycelle has always been a Lannister claw."
"Purge the court." Gendry looked into the flames of the brazier, which brought warmth to the cold night. The broad Valyrian steel longsword Tiger's Roar was terrifying to behold, as if it too thirsted for the blood soon to come.
"The late King was known for his generosity and easy manner, but the beast called power must be held on tight reins. Back then, Great Lord Eddard and Great Lord Stannis believed the Kingslayer should be exiled, stripped of the white cloak, and sent to the Wall. In the end, the King followed Lord Jon Arryn's advice, married a Lannister woman, and brought the Lannisters into the alliance. It is difficult now to say what was right or wrong."
"The late King's power as King was limited. The war back then had not yet ended. But as King, my power is unlimited." Gendry looked at the old knight, his gaze burning like fire.
Ser Barristan nodded. The newly born Baratheon dynasty had been a dynasty created through marriage alliances and patched-together compromises. Then the King himself had led the way in drunken indulgence, and power had slipped from his hands like sand through his fingers. The Stormlands and Crownlands could be split into three parts, greatly weakening the King's authority.
"Roose Bolton is clearing the mobs out of King's Landing, but the main course will have to wait until we arrive. The question is how to arrange it," Gendry said.
"The white knights are practically broken now, and their numbers are badly depleted. As for the Small Council, it was already filled with clowns, and now it is emptier still. Neither body has the manpower it needs. Fortunately, we have gathered the lords of The Reach, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and the Vale. The Small Council will not lack candidates," Ser Barristan suggested.
"Among the Vale lords, there is House Royce, House Grafton, the Golden Eagle Arryns, and even House Redfort of the Redfort. There are no shortage of capable men. As for The Reach, Lord Mathis may be rough, blunt, and direct, but he is also wise, cautious, and widely loved. Lord Randyll Tarly is a cold and vindictive lord, but he is a renowned commander and a veteran of the battlefield. As for Lord Mace, apart from his greed and high birth, his abilities are as ordinary as Redwyne's and Florent's."
Randyll was indeed a rigid and seasoned man, a many-sided creature by any standard. But the lords and knights of the Seven Kingdoms all regarded him as the foremost soldier of The Reach, far harder to deal with than Mace.
"But Mace is easier to control. We need The Reach's grain. Not for one year, but for five years, perhaps even ten," Gendry said.
"Randyll personally drove away his eldest son. He is a cruel man," the good-natured Selwyn said. Randyll was indeed an almost unbelievable sort of person.
"Cruel, yes, but it is said he did it for the honor of his house. House Tarly has always been one of the front-line lords against Dornish invasion. Cruelty is better than weakness. And Tarly maintains strict discipline in his army, with harsh demands on military order. In that respect, he is stronger than most lords, and he treats the common people well," Ser Barristan pointed out.
As for the lords of the Stormlands, they were better left unmentioned. There were too many brutes, and not many men with both cunning and the ability to govern.
Stannis was Hand of the King, but the other ministers still had to be carefully chosen. The good-natured Selwyn was also a decent candidate, and he had performed well on the mission to Highgarden.
"As for the white knights, Balon Swann is one candidate if he is still alive. The rest can be examined carefully. Robert Royce is another candidate, if he is willing." Gendry's long fingers moved down the list.
"My lord, the people you asked for have arrived."
Jon Snow, Harrold Hardyng, and Robert Royce bowed and entered the tent. Behind them were several outsiders. One was the chosen leader of the Unsullied of Astapor, while the others were nobles of various ranks from Meereen.
"Lord Breaker, I am Grey Worm, the leader chosen by the Unsullied of Astapor." Grey Worm knelt before Gendry. "The name I was born with was cursed, and so I was forced to become a slave. But Grey Worm is the name I drew on the day I was freed by the Storm, Lord Breaker Gendry."
Gendry had long since grown used to it. He had Unsullied under his command as well, and he knew Astapor's custom of giving the Unsullied a new name each day.
Now that they were born again as free men, most had returned to the names they had been given at birth, at least those who still remembered them. The others chose the names of heroes and gods, and sometimes weapons, gems, or even flowers.
"How many Unsullied does Astapor still have?" Gendry asked Grey Worm. Gendry had allowed them to choose their own leader, and Grey Worm's advantage had been overwhelming. He was the quickest to react, the most tireless, and the most agile among the Unsullied.
"About eight or nine thousand, but for this attack across the sea, the slave masters brought four thousand with them. There are still a few hundred half-trained apprentices. As for the others, they have not yet entered systematic training. I now command three thousand four hundred Unsullied, and we are all determined to serve the Storm," Grey Worm replied.
There was a reason the Unsullied were so expensive. The wastage was simply too high. In all the markets of Astapor, there were only around eight thousand fully trained Unsullied, and the slave masters had brought them to the battlefield to gamble everything. Now Gendry had taken over half of them outright, all seized for nothing on the battlefield.
"I trust you." Gendry nodded. "Follow Ser Lothor and study the way of knighthood. Learn how to command, and how to face armored enemies. Across the Narrow Sea, I have another free army. Their leader, the Unsullied Greywolf, is learning well. You must be as diligent as he is."
"As you command, Storm." Grey Worm stood at the side to attend him.
"Lord Hizdahr zo Loraq, Great Master of Meereen." Gendry looked at the kneeling Meereenese man. Hizdahr had been born into one of Meereen's foremost noble families and held great influence.
Hizdahr was tall and slender, his amber skin smooth and flawless. His red-black hair had been shaved into the shape of wings.
"The Harpy is willing to bend the knee beneath the Storm," Hizdahr said with his head lowered. "I am willing to offer several times my own weight in gold, so long as you allow me to leave. And those gladiators, I am willing to give them all to you, along with the gold we brought."
"They are already mine, Hizdahr. I never waste even a single grain of food in my mouth."
"That will not do. I am a loyal servant of the Storm, and I am willing to speak the truth for you." Before Gendry could say much more, Skahaz mo Kandaq spoke up. This lesser noble of Meereen had dropped to the ground as soon as he saw the tide turning, and was now fervently singing the Storm's praises.
"Your hair?" Gendry looked at Skahaz. The Ghiscari had thick, stiff hair, and for ages the nobles of the slave cities had styled their hair into horns, spikes, or wings.
"This represents my resolve to cast off the old and bring in the new," Skahaz said. "I have severed myself from the past. I call for the coming of the Breaker." Skahaz's shaved head symbolized his break with the slave masters.
"Good. I did not expect one of my loyal ministers to appear so quickly. You are very eager to advance. Tell me what you think." Gendry allowed the bald man to speak.
Skahaz had an ugly face, with small eyes and heavy bags beneath overly high brow ridges. His large nose was covered in pimples, and his greasy skin was not the amber common among the Ghiscari, but a waxy yellow. Gendry thought his face looked hard, savage, and irritable, perhaps the face of a man who had never known how to smile. This collaborator had appeared remarkably fast.
"Hizdahr's family is no lesser than that Pahl you killed. As a wealthy merchant, Hizdahr has extensive dealings both in Meereen and overseas. He has traveled to Volantis, Lys, and Qarth, has relatives in Tolos and Elyria, and is said to hold some influence in New Ghis as well. If you wish to attack Meereen, you cannot do without this hostage," the bald man said with utmost respect.
The noble Hizdahr zo Loraq turned pale, realizing there was no escape. He glared angrily at the fawning bald man.
"Very well, Lord Skahaz. Then keep watch over these colleagues of yours. Do not let them be injured, and do not let them die."
"As you command!" the bald man promised.
Gendry watched the men enter and leave. For now, he could only imprison these slave masters from Yunkai and Meereen. In truth, they all carried the hatred born of slavery. The rest could only wait. At worst, he would add a few more prison cells along the Blackwater Rush.
The white knights would be reorganized by Ser Barristan.
The Small Council was under consideration.
The commander of the Gold Cloaks would be Ser Boggs of Crackclaw Point, assisted by Lothor.
And there was magic as well. Enchantment could only be shown in shadow, Gendry thought. But the red priestess was one of his rare secret weapons, and this entry into King's Landing made him conscious of the danger.
...
The sun rose, and the world seemed transformed. King's Landing changed its colors, and the banners of lion and stag were thrown to the ground. From the Red Keep to every city gate, all were opened.
Since the hour of the wolf last night, the whole of King's Landing had been suppressed.
Gendry's great host entered King's Landing through the King's Gate, like a vast and thriving forest.
"Woooo! Woooo! Woooo!"
The horns sounded, followed by the forceful, ringing tread of marching feet.
The cold morning wind struck the dozen golden banners raised high above the vanguard. Embroidered upon them were the crowned stag of House Baratheon, the roaring demon dragon of House Targaryen, the galloping wolves of the Wolf Pack, and the freed slaves.
Gendry rode through the morning mist, his black armor and golden cloak shining beneath the rising sun. The dragon and stag on his golden cloak fluttered and leapt in the wind. Clad in black battle armor, standing six feet seven inches tall, and wearing his twin-pronged great-horned helm, he loomed among the crowd like a towering pillar.
Behind Gendry came the proud Great Lords and knights. The nightingale banner of the Stormlands appeared, along with the black-and-white swan banner, Mace in his green cloak, Rowan's golden tree on white, Yohn in bronze armor, Ser Boggs of Crackclaw Point, and many others.
At the front of the formation were ten thousand cavalry. Behind them followed thirty thousand elite soldiers, while the rest of the army remained on standby on the south bank of the Blackwater River, guarding the prisoners.
The noble heads of Malaquo, those foreign nobles, and the slave masters were impaled on spear points. The remaining noble prisoners wore mournful faces as they faced the welcoming crowds of King's Landing.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
After Roose's purge last night, all of King's Landing had become loyal King's Landing. The people cheered warmly, with none of yesterday's chaos left to be seen.