Myr. The City Gates. 290 AC.
Ser Axel Arryn / The Witch-King of Angmar.
Like most of the Free Cities, Myr was a slaving city. They said that for every free citizen there were three slaves, and many of Myr's celebrated craftsn had been born in chains. As in the neighboring cities, trade was held in higher esteem than war. It was a city of rchants, protected by high walls and the swords of n bought with gold.
The city was renowned for its craftsn and produced a great volu of goods for export. Myr made the spyglasses known as "Myrish eyes," as well as crossbows of intricate construction, woven goods, linens, lace, and carpets. All of it amounted to an enormous source of revenue for the city.
Another significant article of Myrish export was sellswords. Companies of Myrish crossbown could be found even in Westeros. I had been genuinely surprised by this at first, but once I understood that Myrish crossbows could punch through full plate, their value in the world beca clear enough.
This fine city had also been part of the Triarchy, the alliance of Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh, the three daughters of Valyria. They were called the Three Daughters, or in common parlance, the Three Whores. That na had been earned by their habit of shifting allegiances whenever it suited them.
"Purpose of arrival?" a tense customs officer asked in Low Valyrian.
"To join the Golden Company," I answered, and the guard relaxed sowhat.
Small wonder. The original twenty Vale knights had been joined by forty Dornishn, bringing our company to just over a hundred, not every man having a squire or attendant. Our group was already large enough to form a small sellsword band in its own right, which so had suggested we do, but that held no interest for .
I had known in advance that not everyone could afford their own mount, so through Oberyn my companions had acquired good Dornish horses. In the end the fighting arm of our group was entirely mounted, which counted for sothing in the scale of small engagents.
The Golden Company were currently based in the city, under contract with Myr. War over the Disputed Lands between the three cities was a common enough affair, and in any ordinary conflict the Golden Company would have dominated the field, but Tyrosh had purchased a large lot of Unsullied and changed the terms. The Golden Company had won the pitched battle but had bled for it.
I intended to use that to my advantage. A prize like sixty mounted n was not sothing the leadership would pass up, not now. We would be taken in with minimal difficulty. As the leader of the company I would be given a minor officer's post so I could formally command my own n. After that it was a matter of earning respect, avoiding the appearance of a upstart, and executing orders cleanly.
The recruiter was straightforward enough. I told him where we were from and who we were, laid out our skills, handed over coin, and we were formally enrolled as one of the mounted companies. From there I was introduced to Marq Mandrake, one of the captains responsible for the cavalry. There was the standard test in the form of needling, which I did not rise to, and then outright insults, for which he received a reply, though he did not seem troubled by it.
We spent two weeks drilling maneuvers and finding our place among the other mounted companies. It ca fairly easily. Westeros had no shortage of cavalry maneuvers, and in Essos they had simply been given different nas. There were a handful of unfamiliar ones, but those were learned quickly.
The n, being newcors, were subject to the usual attempts by more "seasoned" and "experienced" mbers of the company to put them in their place and squeeze sothing out of them. I had to step in, redirect the attention onto myself, cut the offenders down verbally, and later grind them publicly in a training bout. By handling it the way I did, no one could bring a legitimate complaint against . The more decent mbers of the Golden Company volunteered to explain both the written and unwritten rules of the company, and earned genuine respect from our side in return. They handled most of the friction with the other veterans and kept disputes from being pushed to any extre.
Three weeks later we were set for our first battle as part of the Golden Company, against Tyrosh.
...
After their defeat, Tyrosh had decided to pad their army with what soldiers call "sword grease," aning slaves would be going into the fight. The enemy had the Unsullied, excellent light infantry, and then the slaves who could only tie up our n temporarily, a small amount of light cavalry, a pair of middling sellsword companies of five hundred each, and that was it. Tyrosh's true strength was its fleet. Their land army was considerably less developed, and after the last defeat it had grown weaker still. In terms of numbers we were roughly even: five thousand soldiers of the Golden Company against six thousand from Tyrosh.
As Mandrake later explained to , Tyrosh had sent the slaves into the slaughter hoping to wear down our strength enough that the company could not press the advance across the Disputed Lands, forcing the cities to make peace on terms acceptable to both sides. As a warrior I could not understand the magisters' thinking. If you have the chance to finish an enemy, you finish him. You do not play at politics. But the magisters paid, and sellswords obeyed.
The Golden Company's army was divided into three parts: right flank, left flank, center. The infantry held the center, light cavalry and elephants stood on the right, heavy cavalry on the left. Tyrosh's army was built around its infantry, and the center's task was to absorb the enemy's push long enough for the elephants and cavalry to crash into a broken formation. The plan was simple and sensible. Slaves were not known for loyalty or courage, and if anything went wrong on their side they would surrender at once. Capturing n was worthwhile where possible, as the Magister of Myr paid separately for prisoners. The Unsullied were not worth attempting to take. They would not yield, so they were to be put down.
Watching the fighting in the center, I could see that I had made the right choice. The Golden Company's infantry fought in a unified line, each man covering the man beside him. They gave the enemy no way through, and whenever soone fell in the front rank the gap was closed instantly. A strong, disciplined, professional infantry force under a capable commander could do remarkable things.
To avoid alerting the enemy, the heavy cavalry had been broken into small detachnts. They were to circle around the enemy's left flank without drawing attention and then, once the signal ca, consolidate into a single fist and shatter it.
I looked at what we were to strike and understood we could break it right now, but Mandrake was holding the signal. I could follow his reasoning. He was a good general, but not a great one. In my experience the difference between a good general and a great one lay in the ability to exercise ntal command over the battlefield. That ant inspiring your own n, unsettling the enemy, playing on the mind of the opposing commander, and much else besides, everything connected to the ntal dinsion of war.
Mandrake was a strong tactician who held to his plans. That was worthy of respect. He could inspire n and make enemies run, but it was all very surface-level. He understood simple truths: promise sellswords coin and they will fight with spirit, charge peasants with a hamr of heavy cavalry and they will break and flee. In a farcical war like this one, that represented the height of the craft. But not in wars of annihilation, where each side fights down to its last man.
The signal. At last.
Ti to wet the earth with the blood of the losing side.
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