After the gunpowder grass is harvested, it still needs to be dried. The Wolf Pack would have to guard this manor for at least three months.
On the long walls of the gunpowder grass manor, Gendry looked down at the surroundings. The night was still dark and long, with stars twinkling in the sky.
Tonight, he and some of the mercenaries were on night watch. Lance and Mace, who had also become his instructors, were experts at using their weapons, which gave Gendry quite a bit of trouble. Long weapons had a relative advantage over short ones.
"Governor Karasso must be in agony. This year's gunpowder grass crop is a disaster, and the stock he has could fetch a more tempting price!" Lance complained. "So he has to guard this most fertile manor, but unfortunately, it's too remote."
Gunpowder grass, as an economic crop, also has its ups and downs. Many manors had suffered disasters this year, and the market for gunpowder grass was good. As a result, Karasso had already sold off all his previous stock, leaving only the immature plants in the manor.
"There's not much we can do. The magisterial election in Myr is a money-burning game! As a member of the Gunpowder Grass Guild, Karasso has to participate in the election," Mace replied.
The magistrates of Myr were mostly elected by the various guilds—the carpet guild, the glassware guild, the gunpowder grass association, and the wine guild.
Listening to their complaints, Gendry realized that the power structure of the Free Cities was different from Westeros. Merchants had a lot of say, even more than the nobles, and most magistrates came from the merchant class.
"Listen!" Everyone heard a sound cutting through the night, coming with a roar. They saw the firefly-like lights and then realized it was a large group of people.
"Here comes a fight, and blood will be shed! Kid, are you ready?" Lance asked Gendry, then struck the alarm bell, the sound spreading throughout the manor.
Gendry didn't speak but raised his cold-headed mace.
Handsome soon climbed up the wall, looking at the torch-bearing crowd. The sound of the alarm bell and horns woke up the entire Wolf Pack.
"Runaway slaves and bandit mercenaries!" Handsome said. Runaway slaves existed in the Disputed Lands, and these people, together with bandit mercenaries, liked to raid manors.
Gendry looked at the distant firelight; these people had come to the gunpowder grass manor to take what they wanted for free.
"Archers!" Handsome ordered. Thirty of his men climbed up the high wall and operated the bows. Half of them used crossbows, and the rest mostly used Eastern double-curved composite bows made of animal horn and sinew, with only a few using purpleheart longbows.
There were also slaves from within the manor who climbed up the wall to prepare rolling barrels and hot oil.
The bandit mercenaries and runaway slaves began to shout outside the range of the arrows, "Listen up, people in the manor, open the door now! Open it immediately!"
"You're blind! This is the private manor of a Myrish magistrate!"
"Bullshit about the Myrish magistrate. This manor is ours now!" the bandit knight shouted back defiantly.
"Who's your leader?" Handsome looked at the crowd, which probably numbered in the hundreds.
"It's me! Purplebeard from Crown Town." In the firelight, a man with bright purple hair appeared, his armor also shimmering with an eerie glow. He was tall, with a triclops symbol on his shield and ornate swirls on his steel armor. He revealed his face, with a face full of jowls, pale and cunning eyes.
"Open the door, and maybe we'll leave you some wealth! Otherwise, none of you will survive."
"I don't think that's necessary! After all, we're not bandits, but mercenaries!" Handsome said as soon as he finished speaking.
"What is Crown Town?" Gendry asked.
"It's at the heart of the Disputed Lands, the stronghold of bandit knights. Back in the day, nine outlaws, exiles, pirates, and mercenary captains—later known as the 'Ninepenny Kings'—gathered under the Crown Tree to ally, swearing to help each other realize their ambitions of conquering kingdoms."
"It seems you've rejected my kind offer. You could have joined us and plundered more manors!" Purplebeard waved his hand, and spears were thrown from the firelight and shadows behind him. They were aimed at Handsome, but he was alert enough to dodge.
Then, more spears were hurled, "Take cover!"
Handsome shouted. The mercenaries of the Wolf Pack were mostly experienced and knew how to dodge.
Only one or two poor slaves didn't have time to react; the spearheads pierced their throats and then bloodily passed through their necks.
"Charge! Kill them all, and this manor will be ours!" Purplebeard shouted, his voice cold. Outside the wall, armor, swords, and shields clanked together, making a series of noises.
Purplebeard's men were also cautious, as the runaway slaves behind them were poorly equipped. Then torches were thrown into the manor, trying to create more flames.
The manor's steward had already prepared, and some slaves were frantically extinguishing the thrown torches.
"Ladders! Let the runaway slaves climb first!" Purplebeard ordered. The manor's walls were made of rough stone, very easy to climb. Fortunately, the Wolf Pack had dug a trench outside the wall, making it not so easy for the enemy.
"Thwip!" "Thwip!" The bowstrings of the Wolf Pack made short, powerful sounds, and arrows began to fly. The runaway slaves in leather or jerkins had no way to dodge.
The enemy seemed endless. In the intervals of the bowstrings, some finally managed to climb up. The enemy seemed endless, climbing up the wall.
Gendry picked up his warhammer, and every time he knocked down and pushed one person off, another would rush up.
One clever runaway slave made it up, but Lance quickly went over, his spear like a viper, piercing through him.
A few runaway slaves tried to chop open the gate, but their strength was not enough, and they were shot dead by arrows instead.
Gendry smelled the stench; the air was filled with the smell of fire, iron, blood, and dust. Gendry saw a manor slave fall beside him, his face smashed into pulp by a warhammer.
"Long live the Wolf Pack! Ten men, follow me! Skilled in horsemanship, fully armored!" Handsome shouted. He glanced and saw that Purplebeard's men had no siege weapons or reinforcements.
"Me!" Gendry followed Handsome downstairs, and they found their horses in the stable!
The steel-clad group charged out of the manor and clashed with Purplebeard's troops.
Gendry wielded his warhammer like a bull-headed deity. His newly polished bull-horned helmet shone brightly, the horns gleaming in the firelight.
"Thud!" The warhammer seemed to become one with Gendry. He rode his galloping horse, and in the rush, the war hammer accurately struck the enemy's weak spots—throats, heads, or joints in the armor.