Outside Wolf's Den, the military camp buzzed with life. Countless banners flapped in the wind, Gendry's black-and-gold sigil flying proudly above all others. Tents of various sizes were arranged in precise rows, each one marking the living quarters, stables, armories, and command posts. The closer one got to the center of the camp, the more crowded and lively it became.
The sounds of battle training, clanging weapons, neighing horses, and the shouts of soldiers filled the air, blending into a symphony of war. Today was not merely a practice session; it was the Triarchy's first competitive tourney, an event that had drawn warriors and spectators from across Westeros and Beyond the Narrow Sea.
Under the temporary wooden grandstand, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause as the combatants prepared. Longspear jousting, archery, team combat, and mixed-style duels were all showcased, while displays such as mud wrestling and the Sivasi flag—a popular Essosi sport—added flair. Every inch of space had been utilized: fences erected, tracks laid, stands built. Hundreds of thousands of spectators gathered, most being Gendry's taxi soldiers, eager to witness their commander's prowess firsthand.
Daenerys Targaryen, standing atop the grandstand, was the image of poise and beauty. She wore a black velvet gown, trimmed in red, and a square ruby necklace adorned her neck. The colors honored her House, the Targaryens, yet also carried a subtle homage to her personal strength and independence. Her gaze never left the battlefield, where the combatants had already begun their matches. Her heart beat faster as she watched, for the person she loved was among the fighters.
"Princess, there's no need to fear. The liberator is invincible," said Aphra, Daenerys's young attendant. Despite her round, youthful face, she carried a keen intelligence that belied her years. Gendry had arranged for her to serve Daenerys, a gesture meant to provide her with loyal and competent support.
"Don't say 'I, your humble servant,' say simply 'I,'" Daenerys corrected gently. She was determined that those around her should be free in thought and speech, in keeping with both the Old and New Gods' disdain for servility.
Below, Gendry rode a massive black steed, clad in black armor that gleamed in the sunlight. At the center of his helmet was a small emblem of a warhammer. In his hand, he wielded a long-handled warhammer, its weight perfectly balanced for both precision strikes and crushing blows. His opponent, the Blue Knight, wore dark sapphire armor, his weapon a blunted Morningstar. His mount bore no crest, signaling his mysterious origins.
Gendry's sharp eyes studied the Blue Knight carefully. In addition to the elite taxi soldiers and Gendry's mercenary allies, some impoverished knights and adventurers from Across the Narrow Sea had come seeking glory. This mysterious knight, tall and heavily built—perhaps six feet five inches—resembled a lesser version of the Mountain in size and strength. Gendry suspected his identity, yet chose to maintain discretion.
The warhorses collided in the center of the arena, hooves thundering against the packed earth. Shields met weapons with metallic shrieks, each strike producing sparks that danced briefly in the sunlight. The Blue Knight's Morningstar whistled through the air, a sound both beautiful and terrifying, yet Gendry's warhammer remained steady, deflecting and striking with precise rhythm.
"Ser Jorah, do you know the origins of this Knight?" Daenerys whispered, captivated by the combat. "He appears very tall, very strong."
"A mysterious knight from Across the Narrow Sea, Princess," Ser Jorah replied, his gaze unwavering. "Judging by his posture and skill, he is undoubtedly a formidable fighter. Yet no one has bested Gendry directly. Confidence is his greatest armor."
"Jen, you can do it!" Daenerys shouted impulsively, caught up in the exhilaration of the match.
Gendry's warhammer swept downward, colliding with the Blue Knight's Morningstar. The sound echoed like thunder. Dents formed in Gendry's quartered shield, which bore four emblems: a warhammer, three dragons, a wolf pack, and the symbol of liberated slaves. Despite the impacts, the shield held firm, a testament to both its construction and Gendry's skill.
The Blue Knight's shield shattered under repeated strikes, forcing him to fight with only the Morningstar. The whistling weapon moved unpredictably, demonstrating the knight's considerable skill. Yet Gendry's speed and strength increased, and with a blur of motion, he knocked the Morningstar from the Blue Knight's grasp.
The crowd roared in delight. "Long live the Wolf Pack!" "Long live the Magistrate!" voices blending into a deafening wave of sound.
The final charge brought the two warhorses together with violent force. Gendry's warhammer smashed into the Blue Knight's battered armor, pushing him to the edge of defeat. The Blue Knight attempted to wrench the hammer away with sheer brute force, yet his strength faltered against Gendry's calm, controlled power.
Separated from their mounts, the Blue Knight staggered but remained upright. Gendry's warhammer descended, poised to strike decisively.
"Surr-surrender," the Blue Knight stammered, lips cracked and bleeding.
Gendry paused, recognizing the voice beneath the armor. Its tone was softer than expected, almost feminine. With a calm smile, he raised his hammer in salute to the crowd before dismounting. The Blue Knight had fought valiantly, and even in defeat, Gendry showed respect.
"Every true warrior deserves honor," he said, helping the defeated knight to her feet. The crowd erupted into applause, tossing flowers and cheering for both combatants.
Under the helmet, the Blue Knight's eyes were bright and resolute. Her armor, though battered and dented, revealed the marks of a skilled fighter: gouges from warhammers, flaked enamel, and scratches from longswords. She had clearly endured significant punishment yet remained dignified, a true warrior in every sense.
As the medics escorted her away, the Blue Knight refused to have her visor removed, preserving her anonymity. Yet the brief encounter had left an impression: she was not only skilled and strong but possessed a spirit that resonated with Gendry's own sense of honor.
In that fleeting moment, as the sun dipped toward the horizon and the cheers of the crowd echoed across the Wolf's Den, a new chapter of legend had begun. The tournament was more than spectacle—it was a testament to courage, strength, and the promise of glory yet to come.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)