The Golden Company, renowned as the most formidable mercenary group across the Nine Free Cities, boasted nearly a century of history. Its ranks included thousands of horsemen and even several elephants. However, those dispatched to surround Wright this time were all infantry.
The Golden Company's soldiers blocked the street from both ends. The front lines had halted their advance, raising shields with swords braced against their edges — a textbook shield-wall formation, signaling they were ready for a regimented assault.
"Roar!" One soldier led the group in a battle cry.
"Roar!" The others echoed in unison, the shield formation advancing a step forward.
"Watch out for their spears," Wright warned. "Both of you, stick to the edges of the street." He positioned himself in the center. The enemy clearly held the advantage, and their deliberate pace suggested they were waiting for a leader to step forward.
"Roar!" "Roar!" With successive cries, the shield walls at both ends of the street closed to within ten paces of Wright. Their numbers stretched beyond view, with more soldiers still rounding the corner.
The formation finally halted. The first row planted their shields into the ground, while the second row rested their shields atop them, creating a solid defensive wall with gaps through which swords jutted menacingly.
"Not bad training," Wright mused. "They know pikes are unwieldy in narrow streets, so they've all switched to swords. Those drunkards from earlier must've been part of this company." He waited, anticipating their leader's arrival.
Soon, the northern shield line opened a path, allowing a group of armored men to step forward. At their head was a particularly unattractive man, though it was the sigil on his shield that caught Wright's attention.
"A winged heart, black on gold, within a black bordure embattled. What connection do you have to House Toyne?"
"Address me as Ser Myles Toyne," the man sneered. "I am the Captain-general of the Golden Company. This afternoon, you killed over a dozen of our brothers. We've learned who you are, and no matter your abilities, we'll have your head to use as a piss pot, Archmage Wright Baratheon!"
As Myles Toyne finished, the men accompanying him erupted into shouts. "Kill the Baratheon bastard!"
The soldiers along the street joined the chant, their fervor escalating into a deafening roar.
Unperturbed by their theatrics, Wright studied the officers leading the mob. Each bore a gold armband, some thick, others thin—likely an indicator of rank. He turned back to Myles Toyne with a smirk.
"House Toyne was once a vassal of House Baratheon. When the Targaryens persecuted you, you fled to Essos. We Baratheons toppled the Targaryens. Shouldn't you be thanking us?"
"My ancestors made mistakes. The Targaryens were merely enforcing the law, and we bore no resentment. But you Baratheons are usurpers. Today, I'll start by killing you to avenge them!"
"Have you forgotten your family words? Fly High, Fly Far."
"Don't listen to his nonsense! Today, we'll avenge our brothers and the Targaryens!"
White light flickered over Wright's body, followed by streams of electricity coursing through him. He cast Ironflesh and Lightning Cloak on himself.
"Mul~~~Qah~~~Diiv~~~!"
A dragon shout rang out, not loud but imbued with magic that carried its echo across several streets. A suit of armor formed of white, blue, and yellow magical energy encased Wright.
The soldiers in the front line, seeing Wright now radiating with various lights, gripped their shields tighter. Though they had been briefed that Wright was a mage, none had any real combat experience against one. They stood frozen, awaiting their Captain-general's orders.
Wright broke into a sprint toward Myles Toyne. The short distance and his sheer speed left Myles with no time to react. The Captain-general raised his shield in a defensive stance.
"You're unworthy of bearing that black-heart shield!" Wright declared as his foot collided with it.
Protected by two layers of magic, Wright's foot remained unscathed. With a deafening crack, Myles Toyne's shield shattered into fragments. The force of the kick carried through, shattering his left arm into multiple pieces that flew into the air.
The momentum didn't stop there. Wright's foot slammed into Myles Toyne's chest with a sickening crunch. His breastplate crumpled inward, and the Captain-general was sent flying backward, crashing into the shield wall and toppling several soldiers.
"Ah~~ Attack! Kill the Baratheon!" Myles Toyne roared, still alive. His extensive combat experience had prompted him to instinctively dodge backward just before Wright's kick landed, sparing him from taking the full brunt of the blow.
The soldiers charged forward. Each time Wright parried, lightning arced from his body to the nearest enemy, causing them to collapse in convulsions, their bodies igniting in flames.
When Wright swung his sword, it wasn't often aimed at a single opponent. His horizontal slashes tore through at least one or two soldiers, severing them in two, while the electricity leaped between several others, killing even more.
Fighting humans was far different from fighting wights. Wights lacked intelligence and relied entirely on their master's commands, making it easy for Wright to cut down several with a single swing. Against trained soldiers, however, they used shields or swords to block, dodged skillfully, or even sacrificed their comrades to slow him down. Furthermore, Dark Sister, being a single-handed sword, lacked the reach to match his previous efficiency against the undead.
Nymeria and Tyene fought near the wall, as the Golden Company's primary focus remained on Wright. Only a few soldiers unable to engage him turned their attention to the two women.
Nymeria's spear struck with precision, each thrust aimed at vital points. Soldiers who engaged her at close range fell after only a couple of moves. If shields protected them, she targeted their legs. Even the smallest wound proved fatal in such a high-intensity battle, as their rapid blood flow caused them to collapse in seconds. Yet, the sheer number of enemies began to wear the two down, forcing them to gasp for air during every brief respite.
Wright, quick and agile, moved fluidly within a confined area, dodging attacks and swinging his sword with lightning speed.
"His stamina won't last much longer! Keep pressing the attack!" shouted a Golden Company sergeant who, despite their losses, aimed to rally the soldiers. Dozens of their comrades had already fallen, and with such heavy casualties, they either had to ignite their hatred or risk their forces scattering in fear.
"Roar!" The soldiers responded with renewed fervor, accelerating their assault in an attempt to exhaust Wright.
Suddenly, a flash of purple light illuminated the scene as Wright summoned a three-meter-tall ice giant. The creature didn't attack the soldiers but instead smashed through a nearby house, breaking down the door and punching a hole through the opposite wall, creating an improvised escape route.
"Nymeria, Tyene, follow it! It'll protect you to the Sealord's Palace!"
"What about you?" Nymeria, now inside the house with Tyene, protested. She bore several wounds, which Tyene was hastily treating with her most basic healing spell.
"Don't worry about me," Wright said firmly. "I can't fight at full strength with you two here!"