Splash. Splash. Splash.
That was the sound of flowing water.
It was a cool morning. The grasslands were still green, and the Blackwater rushed on.
In the great camp on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush, by the shore and riverbank, a faint sea breeze blew in, stirring the golden battle banners. Four-colored emblems leapt and surged in the wind. Autumn already carried a chill, and winter would only be colder.
Gendry's thick black hair was dark as ink, and his eyes were like blue glaciers. At times, they were warm and bright, full of laughter. At others, they were hard and resolute, like steel.
In the mornings, Gendry would occasionally call servants or soldiers over to spar with him, using spears, sword and shield, or maces. For knights, this was their life. The same drills, day after day, repeated until they reached a higher level, survived the battlefield, and won honor instead of becoming a joke.
"Come!"
Gendry called today's sparring partners forward: Harrold Hardyng, Jon Snow, Robert Royce, Guyard Morrigen, Ronnet Storm, the bastard of Nightsong, and several others. Only fighting several men at once brought him any difficulty now, and even then only for a while. One-on-one practice no longer suited him.
Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "Septa" Tyene Sand, "Lady Scarlet" Melisandre, and Anguy Archer all watched from the side.
Jon Snow and Harry the Arse hardened themselves and came forward with sword and shield. In truth, both had decent talent, but limited by age and experience, they still struggled within this group.
Clang! Clang!
Steel rang against steel. Fighting with sword and shield was exhausting. But not everyone had the chance to cross blades with the strongest Storm of the age.
"Careful!"
Jon Snow saw only a dark blur flash before his eyes. The sword move changed again, and the broad heavy blade came chopping down like a furious wave.
Jon raised his shield to block it. His oaken shield split apart. Gendry's sword changed course at once and swept sideways. He was extremely tall, and his strength was tremendous. Even Jon's speed, which he was most proud of, felt far too lacking before him.
Clang!
Jon hurriedly parried with his sword. After a muffled cry, his body was sent flying backward.
Next came Harrold Hardyng. Harrold saw only the roar of steel light. The broad blunt sword swept in with surging force, and Harrold's own blunt sword barely managed to defend. Every heavy blow felt like a runaway horse, the force rippling through his body.
"Gods!"
After only a few exchanges, Harrold felt every muscle in his body ache, and he too was defeated. His steps staggered, and both his helm and his head buzzed. He had no time to react. He was only being forced to block blow after blow. There was no talk of feints or technique. The gap in strength and speed was simply too great.
The last three, Robert Royce, Guyard Morrigen, and Ronnet Storm, the bastard of Nightsong, gritted their teeth and had no choice but to rush him together.
Clang! Clang!
Gendry spun and swung his sword, scattering a sheet of steel light. He attacked without mercy, at times not even bothering to strike with his shield. His assault was swift, his body moving like a pouncing leopard. Gendry had no fixed technique. He adapted as he moved, letting everything flow naturally.
Straight thrusts, horizontal cuts, diagonal slashes, upward sweeps, spinning blows. Gendry drove forward with all his strength, the heavy blunt sword seeming weightless in his hands.
Fast as fire, steady as a tree, moving like a collapsing mountain.
As time passed, even a blunt sword with no edge would grow heavy. Yet Gendry fought with rising spirit and abundant strength, becoming fiercer instead.
"How can he be so fast?" the ugly Ser Ronnet cried in surprise. His face had been ruined by pox. But he was not only ugly, he was also brave, a famous knight of the Stormlands. His worship of the Warrior matched his courage, and he was a faithful believer in the Seven.
"Back!"
Guyard Morrigen saw the sword light come whistling in and had no time to think. Sword and shield collided. A swordsman as tall as Gendry should never have been so agile. On top of that, the gods had granted him astonishing endurance. Ser Guyard found it almost impossible to believe.
Fighting with sword and shield was exhausting, and victory often belonged to the one who could last the longest. In group combat, one normally had to be cautious, preserve strength, lure the opponent in, and wear them down. But Gendry possessed extraordinary power in every aspect, so the fight looked like cutting melons and vegetables.
Gendry slashed left and right, knocking the remaining three opponents to the ground one by one.
The wrist.
From shoulder to sternum.
The ribs.
When Gendry was fast enough, he could see an enemy's flaws. When his strength was great enough, he could tear the enemy's body apart.
"On the battlefield, you were like the Warrior himself come among us!" Ronnet Storm said. He climbed up from the ground, bruised and aching, yet still smiling, though his smile was terrifying to behold.
Jon Snow and Harrold Hardyng were already sitting on the bench beside them. Though they had been defeated on schedule, it was no disgrace. After all, they had lost to the strongest. Gendry's endurance, strength, speed, and swordsmanship could be called unmatched in the Seven Kingdoms. Every time Jon finished training with him, he felt stiff and sore. When he woke the next morning, his whole body would be covered in bruises.
Yet Jon never tired of it. He cherished such chances all the more. Only by crossing blades with a true master could he gain such results, and that was what he sought. If Jon only sparred with Harrold, he would never improve.
Ever since Jon learned to walk, he had trained every day with Robb at Winterfell. Snow and Stark had circled the castle yard, sparring, laughing, and playing. But that was long ago. They had both grown up now, and they had become very different people.
"Go rest," Gendry told the fighters. Each time, he beat them back again and again, but these men were already among the finest in the army. Gendry made them bring out fiercer and faster attacks.
The men withdrew. Once they had cleaned themselves up, several of them would still be following Gendry back into King's Landing.
Ser Anguy brought Orphan-Maker over. Gendry fastened the sword to his sword belt, where there was also a Valyrian steel dagger. Tiger's Roar was too large. For ordinary use, Orphan-Maker was simpler.
Tyene Sand watched Gendry with beautiful eyes, her manner sweet and devout. Dornishmen were always fiery, loving and hating with equal intensity. Tyene's admiration and desire for Gendry were written plainly on her face. Most people in the world admired strength. Who would not like a handsome, powerful Storm who seemed like the Warrior descended to earth?
"Prince, will you merge the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and Dragonstone into one territory?" Tyene asked. Blonde-haired and blue-eyed, she now wore a septa's white robe, giving her an even more captivating beauty.
Gendry looked at Tyene, daughter of the Red Viper. The girl wanted to sleep with him, yes, but he and the Red Viper were still friends. If it came to that, one thing was one thing and another was another. Given the Red Viper's wild nature, it probably would not count as anything serious.
"They should have been one from the beginning," Gendry said to Tyene.
If not for the rise of House Hoare, who rowed ships over land, and if not for the Dragonlords' later Great Conquest, the Stormlands might have looked like a minor hegemon in its own right. At its widest, the Storm Kingdom had swallowed part of what was now the Crownlands, as well as the Riverlands. Later, it fell from prosperity into decline, stumbling all the way down.
"That may be for the best," Tyene said softly. "You are the new King of the Seven Kingdoms, Gendry... Your Grace."
Tyene's eyes passed over Orphan-Maker's ring-shaped pommel, then Gendry's studded vest with black onyx stag-head buttons, and finally settled on his masculine, handsome face.
"You are calling me that too early. I would rather hear you call me that on the day of my coronation," Gendry said, looking at the beautiful Sand Snake. "I am considering a new gift for Prince Oberyn. He will know soon enough, Lady Rhaelle."
"I thank you for your generosity," Tyene said with a bow.
"And what of your next battles?" Tyene asked him. "Empire and glory, not only the Seven Kingdoms, but a great realm on both sides of the Narrow Sea."
"That is not the hardest battle. The hardest is A Song of Ice and Fire, facing darkness and the Long Night. This is the Storm's mission, to set wrath blazing across the land. Even though Dorne lies in the south of the realm, I hope the Prince will be prepared."
Tyene nodded. Gendry seemed born for battle. Compared with negotiation, mediation, and political scheming, spoils and prestige won by the sword were far more solid.
"The battle of ice and fire." Tyene could feel the grandeur and vastness in those words.
"Yes, my lady," the red priestess said. "One fire, one ice. One light, one darkness. One life, one death. Compared with that, what are mortal struggles for kingship worth?"
"I will tell my uncle and my father all of this," Tyene said with a solemn nod.
"Thank you for your kindness," Gendry said to Tyene. "Before the next great war, we must be united as one."
"Prince Gendry, you placed the Hand's chain upon your uncle, Great Lord Stannis. You gave Great Lord Mace the office of Master of Coin. You avenged the Starks and the Arryns, and the realms are coming together. Dorne will also be grateful for your kindness and resolve. For the blood debt of years past, we will fight for you," Tyene promised.
"If Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn decide to march north, they may speak with me in advance," Gendry promised, referring to a seat on the Small Council.
Tyene, as envoy, inclined her head slightly, then knelt on one knee and kissed Gendry's ring. "Thank you, Prince. I will convey your warmth to my two elders."
"I am grateful to Prince Oberyn as well. The messenger he sent me is capable and reasonable." Gendry also gave Tyene's hand a light kiss, his long fingers lifting the septa's hand.
Tyene was skilled with all manner of poisons. Those who used poison understood indirect methods and vigilance, and among the Sand Snakes, Tyene was one of the clearest-headed. Gendry also understood poison, in truth, but it was not a glorious thing to let others know.
After observing and interacting with them for some time, Tyene had thoroughly grasped the current structure of power. The future of the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps even the future of the known world, now lay in the hands of this newly risen Storm.
If Dorne wished to have a place in the new order to come, it could only join the greater body of the Small Council.
Once Father and the others learn the results of the Battle of the Blackwater Rush, Uncle Doran should make up his mind as well, Tyene thought. First, the bombardment of The Reach camp forced The Reach to attack of its own accord. Then came the shield-and-anvil tactics, using muddy soft ground and archers to wear them down. Finally came the cutting strike of the shield wall and knights. The Lord Governor of Volantis was slain, famous kings from every quarter were cut down, the Volantene coalition was crushed, the Imp was captured, Joffrey died in a riot, and Cersei fled for her life.
Tyene knew that Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn had studied several of Gendry's brilliant battles. The Battle of Myr against Khal Drogo had been one the Red Viper had personally taken part in. Then came the Battle of the Whispering Wood, the siege of the camp, the storming of The Twins, the Winter Wolves' march south as cover, and the secret forced crossing of the Bloody Gate.
Even someone as proud as the Red Viper admitted that, in battle formation, Gendry had fought a flawless field from beginning to end. No war leader could match him. Beheadings, surprise attacks, forced crossings, ambushes, flanking encirclements, shield-and-anvil battles. All kinds of tactics came one after another, and he used them with ease. Though the Storm did not often fight naval battles, he did not lack capable men for them.
No commander dared boast that he too could plan like a god and use a few thousand knights to shatter tens of thousands of enemies. Yet the Storm had risen step by step by treading over the corpses and defeats of his foes. His furious courage was as unmatched as his deep calculations.
"Set out, to King's Landing!" Anguy shouted, and horns sounded.
"Come, Lady Rhaelle, Lady Crimson," Gendry invited the two of them. "Today we go first to the Dragonpit. That is our next task."
The knights in golden cloaks formed ranks. Even many of the Stormlands vanguard knights had now found themselves a golden cloak. Those without designs simply wore plain golden cloth robes instead. To be a vanguard knight of the Storm was an immense honor.
A golden river spread out in full, and the four standard-bearers raised the golden battle banners, letting every emblem fly in the wind.
"The stag, the dragon, the wolf pack, and the freed slaves." Tyene counted the symbols on the banners from within the procession. The golden knights surrounded Gendry like pieces of golden flame burning in the wind.
The dragon and the stag dancing together. It was an image no one had ever imagined before, yet it had appeared because of this newly risen king. The center of power was King's Landing, and the center of King's Landing was Gendry.
Gendry's new order was not without weaknesses. Its weakness was that the master of absolute power was still a young man.
But how could outsiders easily assassinate Gendry? A skilled swordsman was necessarily agile and alert, like a freshly forged blade, and Gendry was the crown of all swordsmen. Across all his battles, perhaps Khal Drogo had once caused him some trouble, but Gendry was now far stronger than he had been then.
And beyond that, there were the white knights and Gendry's trusted followers: Barristan, Balon, Anguy, Lothor, Jon, Ser Guyard, and the others.
And there is me, and Lady Crimson, Tyene thought. Disguised as Tyene, she was there to inspect poison-related matters in the Red Keep, while the red witch might be full of strange talk, but if Gendry valued her, then she clearly had ability.
"With a dream team like this, would anyone really take the bait?"
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