10

With imposing height, Mero stood tall with his red-gold beard glistening in the afternoon sun. He looked upon his company not with admiration, but at least contentment.

His camp was a circle of ragged and torn tents that hadn't aged well. Those with painted canvasses were faded and cracked from years of exposure to the elements. While the Second Sons weren't as wealthy as the Golden Company, they had a steady supply of work coming in. Sell Swords were always in high demand in the Disputed Lands.

He wiped some sweat from his forehead. Looking up, his eyes squinted to protect themselves from the hot sun rays beaming down on them. At least there was a pleasant breeze, he thought to himself. He jumped slightly when the company watchman blew on his horn in a way that indicated that they had visitors but weren't in immediate danger of being attacked. Even so, Mero adjusted the sword at his hip … just in case. Their large company gathered in a loose grouping and watched as a lone rider galloped closer and closer. As he neared, they saw a massive line of horsemen far behind him, stretched out so that they filled his entire vision. Just then, the watchmen blew the horn again, warning them to get ready. His company scrambled to attention, grabbing weapons and getting their camp ready. All the while, the lone rider came closer.

The Black Rider galloped right up to their ranks and stopped, the magnificent black stallion rearing back on its hind legs. When the front legs dropped back down, Mero got his first look at the rider. He couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of his armor. If there was one thing Mero knew about, it was treasure. He knew that the entire set of armor was made from Valyrian Steel. He saw the telltale ripples in the dark metal. The armor alone would buy him a kingdom. His thoughts of killing the man right away and taking his armor were temporarily thwarted by the man's introduction.

"Who's the leader of this company?" a loud and authoritative voice came from deep within the darkened hood. Several of Mero's men took a step back and were quickly chastised by the more seasoned veterans in their company.

"That would be me," Mero declared, stepping forward and placing a hand on his sword's grip. "Now what the fuck do you want?" he called out.

"To deliver a message," the Dark Rider responded.

Mero spat at the ground right in front of the black horse. "And what message is that?"

"By order of Lord Harold, Bastard of the Rock, and King of the Disputed Lands, you are to immediately remove your camp from his lands. Failure to comply will be seen as an act of war," the Black Rider told him confidently, his dark cape flapping in the wind.

Mero chuckled before it turned into full-blown laughter. His men quickly followed. Soon, the entire field was filled with the sounds of laughter. After a few minutes, the laughter died down.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to reject our Lord's most generous offer," he said, earning a few more laughs.

"He was hoping you would say that."

An ear-splitting whistle made most of the men hunch over, covering their ears. What they didn't see was a massive black shadow streaking down from above. Harry watched with a hidden smile as the Unsullied began a cavalry charge from behind him just as Daemon pulled out of his dive. As the fire hit, an inferno erupted behind the massive army of men. They panicked and cried out as they turned around. Many pissed themselves as they saw their living nightmare for the first time. Daemon strafed their camp, drawing a line with his torrent of fire. Those in the back of their ranks were truly unlucky. Their screams could be heard over the chaos as they instantly were set aflame. Their camp exploded along with all their worldly possessions. When Daemon finally pulled up, they saw that there was no way to retreat. A wall of fire was blocking their path. The only way out was forward, toward the Black Rider and his charging army.

Though his knees were trembling, he called out for them to push forward. As they did, they were hit by the charging Unsullied.

Mero screamed as he swung his sword, slicing a horse's side while ducking underneath a sword swipe from an attacking enemy. He failed to notice that the horse didn't react. It continued to charge with his rider cutting down anyone in his path. One dark-skinned enemy fell from his horse and rolled, getting to his feet faster than Mero thought possible. He gulped when he finally understood that it was the Unsullied attacking them. The man thrust forward with his spear, but Mero quickly parried it. He was just able to duck underneath a backswing and was forced to jump over a spear sweep. Sweat rolled down his cheeks as the man kept on mercilessly attacking him. It was only when one of his men sliced the Unsullied's leg that he was able to take advantage. Thrusting forward, he drove his sword right into the man's gut.

Harry was having the time of his life. He laughed out loud when he saw his conjured horse kicking any sell sword dumb enough to try and climb on to escape. One man successfully mounted it, only for the horse to buck him off and trample him to death. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Harry ducked under a sword swipe. When his attacker's sword came back around, Harry blocked it with Fiendfyre. The cheap steel belonging to the sellsword severed right above the guard. The man watched with a horrible feeling in his gut as his blade spun in the air and landed on the grass while the handle was still firmly in his grip. He didn't have to worry long, however, because soon after, his head quickly followed his sword blade. Another sellsword stepped in. Harry blocked his attack, spun around, and swung at his arm. Harry watched with grim satisfaction as the arm and sword fell to the ground. A fountain of blood began squirting out of the stump. In a delayed reaction, the man screamed and gripped his arm right above the elbow to try and stop the bleeding. Harry kicked him in the chest hard enough to send his body flying back into a crowd of his compatriots. Several fell to the ground as the airborne body with the caved-in chest hit them. Unsullied took the opportunity to begin stabbing the downed men. There were no quarters given. Harry marched forward.

A swipe of his sword severed a leg at the knee. He side-stepped a downward swing and punched his attacker in the face. The man gargled blood and spat out his teeth as he dropped to the ground with his jaw shattered. Several spears immediately pierced his back.

One particularly big sellsword was doing a splendid job fighting off the advancing Unsullied. His six-foot longsword was keeping Harry's men at bay. Harry jumped in and blocked a powerful swing with his blade. The large man pulled Harry in and headbutted him so hard that lights temporarily flashed behind his eyes. Harry shook his head as he stumbled back. The man bellowed out a booming laugh.

"Jeez!" Harry muttered as he tapped the side of his head with the heel of his palm. Once he regained his senses, Harry and the man clashed again. Again, they locked swords … only this time, Harry was the one to swing his head forward. A sickening crunch and a cry of pain filled his ears as the man stumbled back, his nose completely crushed. Harry shoved his sword deep into the man's belly. His boiled leather armor was nothing compared to the Valyrian Steel blade. When the hilt touched his stomach, the man showed what kind of a fighter he truly was. He swung with a powerful backhand that Harry was just able to duck under. Still holding onto the grip of his sword, he pushed his magic into it. The beast of a man screamed as the sword ignited, burning him from the inside out. Sensing an attack from behind, Harry ducked, only for the sword to miss his head and cut off the head of the burning giant. Quick as a flash, Harry pulled his flaming sword from the body and turned with a powerful swing. A sickening sound met his ears as his blade cut a man at the point where his neck and shoulder met. The razor-sharp blade cut through meat and bone and easily exited below his armpit. Half of his body diagonally dropped to the floor with a horrified expression still on his dying face. The smell of sizzling human flesh was beginning to turn his stomach. Others around him apparently felt the same way. Whether it was from the gruesome sight or the smell, Harry heard retching and dry-heaving around him.

Poor Milof saw the Black Rider coming directly for him. Screaming in panic, he backed up, only to trip on a decapitated corpse. Landing on his backside, his eyes glanced at the smoking blade resting by his side as he walked. He whimpered pathetically as he crawled backward, keeping his eyes on the armored man. How could this happen to him? He was a decent man who only occasionally raped and plundered, he thought to himself. Why would his God put him in such a horrible position? Suddenly, a shadow appeared above him. He looked up only to see the large foot of one of the company's war elephants coming down. He screamed for only a second before he was flattened into human paste.

Harry watched as the elephant trampled many in its bid to get away from the chaos. Dozens of Unsullied spears were protruding from the beast's sides. It gave off a pained, trumpeting squeal only for it to be swept from its feet by a pair of clawed feet. Daemon flew off and dropped the elephant onto the ground. Landing next to it, he began devouring the beast while it was still alive.

His battle continued for another hour before only a few of the Second Sons were left. He watched as three dozen finally fought their way to some of their horses and quickly mounted them. As fast as possible, they rode off away from a guaranteed slaughter.

"Shall we go after them, My Lord?" one of the Unsullied asked as he appeared by Harry's side. Harry turned to look at him. It was White Lice, as he called himself. He was just one of many who stayed with him after he declared that they were free. In fact, only a handful of Unsullied actually took the opportunity and left their ranks for a shot at true freedom. The rest stayed knowing that they were free and would be paid accordingly. As one of the oldest, Harry made White Lice the Captain of the Unsullied army.

"No. Let them go. They will spread the tales of what happened here," Harry told him as another trumpeting cry echoed across the field. The ground shook as the Unsullied took down the last of the rampaging elephants. Now the only thing that could be heard were the wails of the dying and injured and the crunching of bones as Daemon devoured his prey.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry laid back in the bathtub that he had conjured. It had been a long day, and the sun was just starting to set. Suddenly, Missandei came into his tent. Blushing deeply at what she saw, she quickly apologized.

"Forgive me, My Lord!" she cried out, lowering her head in subservience. "I did not know that you were bathing." Harry waved away her apologies. Harry was leaning back against an equally naked Melisandre who was washing his chest with a soapy rag. The Red Priestess smirked at the young Naathi as her free hand slid down his stomach and underneath the water. Harry could feel Melisandre's hard nipples rubbing against his back.

"Quite alright. Can I help you?" he asked her.

She handed him a piece of paper. Harry kept a stock of his company's paper and ink on his ship. Missandei was making good use of them. "Report of the casualties. I wrote down the numbers for both the dead and the injured," she told him. Harry looked it over. They had lost over two hundred Unsullied. As sad as that was, they were probably better off. Most in this world knew nothing but suffering. This was true with the Unsullied as well. They took suffering to the extreme.

"Good job, Missandei," he told her, smiling at the pretty girl with smooth, dusky skin. Embarrassed by his praise, she bowed her head slightly and left the room. Melisandre chuckled as she scampered out of the room. Her hand was expertly stroking his long, hard cock while she washed him with her other hand.

"When are you going to fuck her, My Lord?" Melisandre asked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'll fuck her when she wants to be fucked," he responded evenly, leaning back against her chest while her hand began to move faster and faster. Harry closed his eyes and rested while his hands caressed her smooth, soapy legs.

After his bath, Harry went back outside and saw that the camp was in full swing. Unsullied were cooking meat and vegetables supplied by him on open fires. Some were combing through the burnt wreckage of the Second Sons' camp which was still smoldering in some places. Once the battle was over, Harry had used his magic to extinguish the flames so that they could search for any gold or treasures that were left in the tents when they were set alight by his dragon. Daemon was flying around the area, stretching his wings after eating his fill. Harry would have to remember to get rid of the elephant corpse before it began to rot, but not before taking the ivory tusks. They were a valuable commodity. Off to the side, thousands of his drone workers were dragging the bodies of the dead and stacking them into a pile. The dead Unsullied were placed in a pit of Harry's making a bit further away. They would at least be buried with honor.

He walked over to the pile of coins and other valuables that were piled on the grass in the middle of the camp. It was a collection of the wealth from the sellsword company and the individual wealth of each member. Obviously, they never kept their savings in a bank. They just carried them around in chests or leather sacks. Every time an Unsullied came up to it, they would drop blackened coins down onto the pile with a metallic clanking sound. Everything taken from his war would be added to the treasury of the kingdom that he had not yet created. He still had plenty of battles to win. At that time, they were on the southwest coast of the Disputed Lands. They would continue traveling north, defeating any sellsword company that refused to leave before finally making it to the northern coast along the Gulf of Myrth. There he would build his fortress. He chose that area because of the proximity to Westeros and the fact that he could easily travel to anywhere in the world from there. It was truly one of the best locations in all of Essos. It was no wonder why nearby city-states had been warring over it for generations. Unfortunately for them, their loss was his gain. Once taken, he was certain the Free Cities would attempt to take it from him … but perhaps not. It just depended on if he could make a good enough impression that it would scare away any rivals …

The Dread Lord of Essos

The wind wildly whipped his hair around as they came in for another dive. Harry could feel the intense heat radiating from the beast he was riding. The scattering men and horses below him looked up with pure terror. A tidal wave of fire engulfed them, leaving nothing but charred corpses in his wake. A few brave men fired arrows at Daemon. Most missed, but some bounced off his armor scales. Pulling out of the dive, they flew high into the air. Looking over the side, Harry saw the remaining of the sellsword company below retreating up a lazy hill. What they didn't know was that Harry's Unsullied army was waiting just out of sight. This time he had decided to severely decimate the company so as to avoid the needless death of his warriors. Going in for another strafing run, Daemon opened his wide maw and rained a torrent of fire onto the cowering men's backs. Satisfied, Harry patted Daemon's side affectionately and disappeared from his back. Harry reappeared in front of his army and gave a hand signal, letting them know that the company was nearly there. That hand signal was repeated by those along the front lines. When the first of them crested over the hill, they were met by Harry's flaming blade. Harry allowed only a few to leave and spread the word of his deeds.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Daemon roared so loud that those around him dropped to the ground holding their bleeding ears. They were quickly trampled by the angry dragon. Harry rode on its back, using his Dragon-Bone bow to fire arrows into the circling hoard. Swords, spears, and arrows bounced uselessly off his armored hide. A group of men sneaking around back was crushed by a powerful swing of Daemon's tail. Jaws snapped, biting men in two. One poor soul saw his friend's top half fall down at his feet, fresh blood and entrails pouring out of the bottom. It was brutal, but Harry had no sympathy for them. Most sellswords were rapists and murders … thieves who were willing to take anything they wanted when no one was around to stop them. They even sold their prisoners as slaves to further line their pockets. Harry wasn't going to pretend that there weren't some decent folk among their ranks, but there was nothing he could do about that. They chose to align themselves with the companies. Because of that, they chose their fates. Daemon reared back and pushed his head forward, releasing a powerful blast of fire.

The Dread Lord of Essos

Harry marched up on the back of his conjured, black steed with the Unsullied at his flanks. As Daemon flew past them, Harry saw more than one of the famed Golden Company trembling in fear. Behind them was the beautiful blue water of the Gulf of Myrth. The Golden Company had retreated as far as they could possibly go. The Unsullied all stopped as one, while Harry continued forward. "Greetings," he called out.

Captain-General Harry Strickland who also went by the name Homeless Harry stepped forward. "Greetings to you as well."

"You are the leader of this company?" the one his men called the Dread Lord asked. They had heard the tales from survivors of his brutality who had fled north and had met up with his company. At first, his company just laughed it off as the ravings of cowards, but as more survivors came, each from different sellsword companies, his men began to change their tune. Every week, another company went down as they were pushed further and further north. Once they reached the sea, they knew that they were stuck. Their ships were over a week away and it would take another two weeks before they even received their distressed message … had they even had time to send one. No, they were fucked.

"Aye. Harry Strickland at your service," he replied, bowing slightly.

"Strickland?" The Dread Lord sounded confused. "I didn't know that there were any left after their exile."

"Very few of us, My Lord," he politely corrected the man in black.

"It would be a shame if the line ended today," the Dread Lord said calmly. Homeless Harry hid his trembling hands. The threat was very clear. Fight and you will die. The blood-curdling roar from high above only cemented that fact.

"It would indeed be a shame. However, my men have taken a vote. We have decided to leave your lands peacefully … if you would allow it, My Lord."

He sighed in relief when the Dread Lord nodded his head. "Your men have my word that they will not be attacked if they leave without taking arms against me. You may pack up and take all that you have with you. Go north to Myr. The river Kh'ordar is the northern border of my lands," he explained.

"Of course, My Lord. Thank you," he said, smacking his fist against his chest in respect. The Dread Lord and his army pulled back to give them time. Needless to say, his men were very eager to get away from the circling dragon that was hanging over their heads. They were already mostly packed, and within hours, they were on their horses with their elephants in tow moving north toward Myr. Once the dragon was out of sight, his men were able to breathe a little easier. Losing the Disputed Lands would certainly be a blow to their finances. There were always battles to be fought by greedy City-States who were willing to pay so that their rivals couldn't create a foothold in the area. With that gone, a source of income would soon dry up. Even so, it was better than dying by dragon fire. The unanimous vote of his men only proved that. Besides, there were plenty of places where one could find work.