Chapter 70 – The Second Sons War Camp
The banners of the Second Sons flapped lazily in the warm Essosi breeze. In the center of their camp, Mero — the self-styled Titan's Bastard — stood over a table littered with maps and wine cups. His armor gleamed, heavy with gold embellishments, as he watched his men march and spar beyond the tent.
"How are the forces holding up?" he asked.
Prendahl na Ghezn, the company's quartermaster and grizzled veteran, replied with a short nod. "Fit for the field. Fully armored, blades sharpened. Ready to kill and pillage."
Then he hesitated.
"Are you sure we can do this, Mero? I mean... he's still the Wolf of the Ruins. You remember what that meant, don't you?"
Mero's smile faltered. His eyes narrowed with disdain.
"I'm the fucking Titan, and I won't be cowering because of some northern brat. We have the numbers. We outmatch them. We will destroy them."
Prendahl didn't look convinced. He leaned forward on the war table, voice low.
"You don't understand. He wasn't called the Wolf of the Ruins because he fought from a stronghold. He earned that name when he was outnumbered, out-armored, starving — with no hope left. But his men won. Every. Godsdamned. Time."
"They did impossible jobs for Magisters and Lords across the Free Cities. Ghost stories say they never broke. Even when surrounded."
Mero scoffed. "That was then. He's been out of the field for years. He's soft now, drunk on coin and titles."
Just then, a tall, flamboyant man with a gold-embroidered sash entered the tent, flipping a curved dagger lazily in his hand.
Daario Naharis.
Captain. Duelist. Charmer. And the third-most powerful man in the company.
"We've just received a letter," Daario announced with a grin. "The Company of the Rose is requesting a parley."
Mero burst out laughing. "See? What did I tell you? They're scared shitless. They know they're fucked."
Prendahl wasn't laughing. His brows furrowed, eyes focused on the table.
"Or... something's wrong," he said. "The Wolf never asks for a parley. Not unless he's already set the board in his favor."
Daario leaned on a tent post, grinning. "Could be a trap. Wouldn't be the first time someone used a peace meeting to start a war."
"Nah," Mero waved dismissively. "The northmen are too damn honorable for that. All tradition and oaths and honor."
Prendahl grunted. "Maybe. But don't mistake honor for stupidity."
Daario chuckled and twirled his dagger again. "Either way, we deal with their nonsense, drink their wine, and maybe kill some fools on the way out. Easier coin than a full-scale battle."
Both Mero and Prendahl exchanged a look. Mero scoffed again.
"You can't kill that bastard Wolf, Daario. You weren't here when he marched across Essos like a ghost — silent, deadly, and always two steps ahead. We don't need to kill him. Just knock him out of Essos. Break the Company of the Rose before they rise too far."
Prendahl added, more grimly, "You're still new here, Daario. Just four years in the company. You've heard the tales, but you haven't faced him. You think he's just some wild dog from the North. But you haven't fought the real Wolf. The one who bled Essos and smiled doing it. This ain't a fighting pit and wolf isn't a slave fighter ,he is beast in form of man."
Daario shrugged with an amused smirk. Old men shaking in their boots over shadows and stories.
Prendahl only stared at the map.
---
The meeting was set at neutral ground — an ancient, abandoned watchtower half a day's ride from Volantis, surrounded by dried reeds and wind-swept hills. The cracked stone walls still stood firm, though age had stripped them of their banners and pride.
Cregan Stark arrived first, draped in a dark wool cloak lined with Northern wolf fur. His black steel axe hung at his hip, a Valyrian steel longsword across his back. Shadow, his direwolf, paced just outside the crumbling walls, eyes glowing like pale moons in the dim sun.
Edwyle Snow rode beside him, face grim. Ten Rose Company veterans stood outside, stoic and silent.
The Second Sons came with noise.
Gold-trimmed armor. Painted faces. Loud laughter and sharpened swords.
Mero led the bunch, a sneer stretched across his weathered face. Beside him, Prendahl looked cautious, scanning everything. Daario Naharis strolled in last, twirling a dagger lazily, smiling like this was all a tavern play.
They entered the chamber. No weapons were drawn, but the air itself felt like steel.
Cregan didn't rise.
"Take your seats," he said, voice deep and calm.
They did — uneasily.
Mero broke the silence. "You called this little tea party, Wolf. So speak. Tell me why the mighty Company of the Rose calls for peace when they're choking on it."
Cregan looked up slowly, gaze like winter frost. "I offer words of peace before words become screams."
Daario whistled softly. "He's dramatic. I like that."
Edwyle shot him a warning glare.
Cregan amused "A new face in your company? but experienced man looks like .What fighting pits?."
Daario a bit perplexed"Yeah"
"Yeah,I did thought you were too confident anyways I didn't come here to trade jests or drink wine," Cregan said. "You were paid with Lannister gold. You were given orders to bleed my allies and destroy my routes. I know this. You know this."
Prendahl crossed his arms. "It's business. You of all people know how it works."
"I do," Cregan said, leaning forward. "Which is why I'm not killing you yet. I know how much you were paid... and I know how much you're worth."
He let that sit.
Then added"You're overpaid."
Mero growled, "Careful, pup."
Cregan's eyes met his, unblinking. "You think because you've got numbers, you have power. But I've seen thousands routed by hundreds before — I was there when it happened. You don't scare me, Titan. You're a drunk butcher playing at war."
Daario smirked, amused. "And you're here why? If we're so unworthy of fear?"
Cregan's voice a bit dramatic.
"Because I don't want my niece asking why they are calling me Wolf of the Ruins."
Edwyle added, "We know of your recent allies. The Norvosi steel, the Braavosi loans, the Quohor blades. We also know who sent you. And why."
Mero leaned forward, rage flickering in his voice. "If you think you can outbid the Lannisters—"
"I don't buy cowards," Cregan snapped. "I bury them."
Prendahl stiffened. Daario chuckled again, spinning his blade with more interest now.
"You'd risk open war?" Mero asked.
Cregan stood, slow and steady. His height cast a long shadow across the table. "War has already come. You brought it to my gates. You spilled blood. You tampered with my businesses. And you want to talk about risk?"
He stepped closer, face inches from Mero.
"Mero You were There when I brought ruins to the people, other thought were impossible to touch. You want to destroy the Company of Rose, when you know what we did after we lost our commander."
Mero didn't answer.
"Don't do anything that I have to be that beast again and not Lord I disguise myself here and right now."
Daario, no longer smiling, finally asked, "What's your offer?"
Cregan's tone was flat.
"Withdraw. Immediately. Cease operations against my allies. Return to your contracts or your whorehouses. You live. You even keep the gold."
Daario "You don't offer anything"
Cregan smiled, but it never reached his eyes.
"I offer you your life"
The silence in the chamber turned sharp.
---
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