Telosi was now nothing more than an isolated city. Once its disputed territories and vassal towns were lost, it became at best a vast, lonely metropolis.
Over the years, the most brutal naval battle had been the Battle of Roar, which involved the Black Dragon Party. Of the ninety first-class warships belonging to the Three Cities Alliance, most never returned.
Although today's battle was not as savage as that one, it would nevertheless determine the fate of Telosi. The war now raged along the city's coast.
The Tyrosi fleet, apart from the ships destroyed or surrendered, had only a few stubborn vessels left — and they soon met their end. The banners of the Triad fell one after another, while only the banners of the wolves still roared.
"Bang! Bang!"
The arms of the catapults on the outskirts of Tyrosi rose and fell — one, two, three at a time. Hundreds of stones arced through the crimson sky, each the size of a man's head. They crashed down, splashing up enormous waves or smashing through oak decks, turning sailors into shattered bones, mangled flesh, and bloodied pulp.
But the catapults' power did not last long. Many of the slaves operating them turned against their masters, overturning the siege engines or turning them upon their former owners.
"Kill!"
"Kill all the slave owners!"
The dockside slaves of Tyrosi also took up arms, welcoming the Wolf Pack Fleet and the Narrow Sea Fleet. These slaves, who had long borne the hardest and most grueling labor, harbored no affection for their masters.
Tyrosi fell like a ripe fruit torn from the branch — bursting open with blood and chaos.
The city was in uproar. The rioting slave army acted as agents within, throwing open many of Telosi's outer gates.
Gendry set foot upon Tyroth's soil, clad in heavy armor and bearing his warhammer and arakh scimitar.
"Kill!" Ser Jorah shouted, charging alongside Gendry into Tyroth.
For Jorah, it was as though time had turned back. She felt the vigor of her youth again — before she had met that fateful woman from the Reach.
She remembered when she fought in the Greyjoy Rebellion, storming the island stronghold of Pyke. She had been the second knight over the walls and was knighted by King Robert himself for her valor.
Now, the warhorses thundered across the dusty streets as the cavalry encountered a group of flamboyant Tyrosian mercenaries with brightly dyed hair and gaudy armor.
"Die, boy!" snarled their leader — a lithe man with a smooth face, glittering clothes, and a mouth full of golden teeth. These mercenaries, desperate and trapped, were searching for any means of escape. Black City was already beyond their reach.
The mercenary leader wielded two gleaming swords, their hilts carved into the shape of three-headed gods.
The clash of steel rang out like a storm — so swift that onlookers could scarcely follow the movements. The mercenary's blade struck against Gendry's black scale armor, ringing with a deafening clang.
"Bang!"
Gendry's warhammer roared as it descended, crushing the Tyrosi hero's head into a bloody pulp.
Combat demanded strength, speed, and courage. The mercenary's body fell limp — like a fish smashed against the rocks.
"Why in the hells don't you wear a helmet to battle?" Gendry growled as he pressed forward, his wolf riders flooding through the mercenaries like a raging tide.
Ser Jorah swung her longsword with deadly grace, cutting down enemies left and right. She was like a roaring bear, her power immense and her fury unrelenting. Her skin was tanned and rough, her hair thinning — yet her strength had not waned.
Archers on the city walls loosed bolts at Gendry and Jorah, but they were too far away; the arrows skittered harmlessly across the stones.
The wolf packs and the Free Army stormed into Tyrosi, and soon the fighting filled every street and alley.
"Put down your weapons!"
Gendry's knights advanced in an arrowhead formation, crushing all resistance in their path.
The Tower of Blood rose over Tyrosi's harbor, and the Fountain of Dionysus glittered in the square — but Gendry paid them no mind. While the bloody battle raged here, Myr was likely descending into turmoil as well.
The uprising within Tyrosi spread like wildfire. The slaves, shouting with rage, seized weapons from their former masters and threw open the gates.
The die-hard nobles and slave owners retreated into Black City, vowing to resist until the end.
"Tyros truly breeds mercenaries," Gendry muttered. There were more mercenaries here than in Myr. After the division of the disputed lands, and with the freeing of slaves, countless embittered sellswords had fled to Lys and Tyros.
Spears, crossbows, battle axes, and the screams of men filled the air. The streets ran red, and when the inner city fell, the victory was complete.
Gendry established his command post by the Fountain of Dionysus, a prominent landmark in the city.
"Commander-in-Chief!" Ser Jorah reported. "We've captured the outer city of Tyrosi and secured the docks. Only the inner city remains!"
She brought with her a tall, bloodstained man with a thick red beard.
"What's your name?" Gendry asked, studying him. Though his hair and beard were dyed red like the Tyrosi, his features and build marked him as a man of the North.
"Raymond," the man said, kneeling. "Raymond the Savage. I was born a free man beyond the Wall. When I was a boy, the Tyrosi slavers captured me and sold me here. I worked as a guard, a child trainer, and a boxer — until I bought my freedom. I have never forgotten what the slave masters did to us."
"The Tyrosi stole your freedom," Gendry said, helping him to his feet. "Both the Old Gods and the New would curse them for it."
The Tyrosi were infamous for their cruelty. Their slave raids reached even across the Wall, where they captured free folk to sell in their markets. Now, their vengeance had come.
"Keep your freed slaves under control," Gendry ordered. "I don't want their revenge to turn into another slaughter. If we become like the masters we overthrow, then what's the point of our victory?"
"Yes, Commander," Raymond replied with a fierce bow.
"Where is Lord Tyroth — and the priests of the Triad?" Gendry asked.
"Prince Tyroth is hiding in Black City with the High Priest," Ser Jorah said.
"Good. Maintain order in Tyrosi — the banks, warehouses, and shops must be secured. Those who surrendered won't manage it properly, so put our own men in charge."
"Where is Aquito?" Gendry asked next.
"Governor Aquito has been imprisoned by the Great Khan," Jorah answered. "He told the Khan you would not attack so soon."
"Let's hope the poor man's still alive," Gendry muttered.
Ser Jorah pointed toward the distance. "And Black City, my lord?"
Before them loomed the Black City of Tyrosi — a two-hundred-foot wall of molten black stone, oval and immense. A direct assault would be costly.
"Surround it first," Gendry commanded. "Cut off their supply lines and water. Bring up the remaining catapults."
"Yes, Commander!"
"Once the siege lines are secure, clear out the remaining Tyrosi fortresses and hunt down the die-hard slave leaders. We'll wait for word from Myr before the final strike."
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