At the mouth of Oldtown, thunderous horns sounded, and the oared warships, dense as a forest, spread out like a great net.
The battle for Oldtown had raged from morning until dusk, leaving the streets where the water had seeped in bloody and mired in mud.
Besides House Redwyne's blue-and-purple grape banners, the great fleet also flew the King's golden Quartered Arms banner, bearing the stag, the Dragon, and the Wolf Pack.
The sails gleamed with gold, their canvas patterned with the Quartered Arms: the crowned stag, the three-headed Dragon, the Wolf Pack, and a slave breaking his shackles.
"Woooooo!"
The rumbling war horns rolled across the sea, hoarse and deep.
The warships were like a Wolf Pack upon the water, advancing with the flood tide as the fickle wind rattled their sails.
No more than twenty yards separated one ship from the next. This was the standard battle line.
The largest warships had three or four decks and three or four hundred oars, with crossbow turrets lining both sides of the deck. A catapult stood at the bow and another at the stern, ready to hurl barrels of burning pitch.
These warships were not only intimidating, but also remarkably nimble and fast.
To reach Oldtown as quickly as possible, their decks had not been crowded with soldiers. These warships were meant for naval battle.
Although the king had already secured victory in advance, they could still finish the work.
"Once the evil god has been sacrificed, the storms will become even more unpredictable," Paxter Redwyne said, feeling the unfathomable sea wind against his face.
Paxter looked out over the belly-up carcass of the Bleeding Sea Kraken floating on the water, as massive as a small hill. Or rather, the corpse of the "Crow's Eye."
It was not hard for Paxter to imagine the fate that had originally awaited the Redwyne Fleet. They would have been lured into a bay of adverse winds, then swallowed by the Ironborn, the storm, and the Kraken.
That would have been inevitable, because Paxter Redwyne had only fought ordinary sea battles, not magical ones.
"Long live the Storm!" Paxter shouted as he looked up at the magical Dragon in the sky, his fear still lingering.
The shock left Paxter with no mercy at all for the Iron Fleet. He refused to accept the surrender of their warships.
The Iron Fleet's strengths lay in its mobility and shallow draft, but in tonnage and fleet equipment, it was utterly unable to compare with the great fleet.
The Iron Fleet also had fewer crossbows and catapults, making it better suited for surprise raids than direct confrontation.
The deaths of the Bleeding Sea Kraken and Euron shattered the last bone of resistance among the Ironborn.
The carcass of the Bleeding Sea Kraken floated on the sea as the United Grand Fleet's crossbows, catapults, pitch barrels, and fire oil barrels roared to life, hurling their volleys toward the ships of the Iron Islands.
"Kill the Ironborn!"
"Kill the Ironborn!"
"Long live the Storm!"
"For the King!"
Not a single ship of the Iron Islands could escape the encirclement at the mouth of Oldtown. One after another, they were obliterated and set ablaze.
"Dracarys!"
"Dracarys!"
And then there were the Dragons. The furious three-headed Dragon breathed without restraint, burning the Ironborn fleet to ashes.
Dragons were creatures of high intelligence. Naturally, they understood Crow's Eye's malice, and his mad attempt to harm them with a horn and warging.
The diving Dragons fell like lightning, each blast of Dragonfire brighter and more blinding than the last, black, green, and gold.
Warships were blown apart or swallowed by flames. Screaming Ironborn sailors leapt into the sea, but still could not escape being burned.
Countless towering columns of black smoke rose from the ocean. The Iron Fleet had been utterly defeated.
The sea was covered with burning warships, smoking wreckage, and countless charred corpses.
From time to time, twitching Kraken tentacles seized the chance to snatch away corpses and feast on them. The Kraken had not provoked the Dragon, yet the Dragon attacked them all the same.
"Lady Asha, this may be a cruel sight, but war is war. You should pray that King Gendry wins. Otherwise, your uncle won't spare you," Morosh the Myrman said to Asha Greyjoy aboard the Wolf Pack.
"I understand, Lord Commander," Asha said with a nod.
Now in her twenties, Asha was slim, with long legs, short black hair, and wind-chapped skin.
She had strong hands, a pink scar on her neck, and carried a dagger and an axe with her.
With her lean, supple build and salt-soaked high leather boots, Asha looked more like an Ironborn boy.
She wore green woolen breeches, a brown padded tunic, and a sleeveless close-fitting vest with its laces half undone.
Asha watched the burning sea with a heavy heart. The Ironborn's Iron Fleet and longships were all being destroyed, an irreparable doom.
Asha knew the name of every great ship in the Iron Fleet. They were the pride of her father Balon and her uncle Victarion.
The fleet commander loved his fleet more than a man loved his wife.
Asha knew the Iron Victory, the Sorrow, and the Vengeful Ironborn, as well as the Stronghand, the Ironwind, the Gray Spirit, the Great King Quellon, the Great King Vickon, the Great King Dagon, and many more. These great ships accounted for a tenth of the Iron Fleet, not to mention the smaller vessels.
"A clever person knows when to bow to the Storm," Morosh said. "Unless you think your head is worth more than that of the Horselord, the Magister, or the Triarch of Volantis."
Asha had nothing to say. She had only a few longships and fewer than a few hundred men. She did not even have the right to bargain before bending the knee.
"So many warships," Oberyn Martell said from the side, gazing at the majestic great fleet and the banners that blotted out the sky as he leisurely drank a cup of Summerwine.
An ocean-going fleet was a spectacle the Dornish had never imagined. Ever since Nymeria burned the ships, Dorne had lost its navy.
The Battle of Oldtown was the cruelest and bloodiest war Gendry had ever endured, but the fruits of victory were just as sweet.
By crushing the Iron Islands' fleet, he had also broken the spine of House Greyjoy and House Hightower.
"For the King!"
"For the King!"
"King of the World!"
"King of the World!"
All across Oldtown, soldiers shouted the King's name, savoring the sweetness of victory.
In the square of the Great Sept of the Stars, the Great Sept itself had already been reduced to ruins, though the square remained intact.
The warriors were hard at work.
Golden battle banners stood everywhere. Soldiers burned the corpses of the Ironborn, gathered the spoils of war, scattered lime into puddles, and washed away the bloodstains.
The bodies of the Bleeding Sea Kraken, the stone beast, and the two sphinxes had also been dragged over and placed at the edge of the square, casting enormous shadows.
The stinking pools of water in front of the Sept Square were soon cleared away. People paid far less attention to the other parts of the city.
King Gendry was here, and glory was here.
Randyll Tarly, Garlan Tyrell, and the others sent troops to clear the west bank of the Honeywine River, the ruins of City Hall, and the streets and alleys.
As for the east bank of the Honeywine River, Gendry had already ordered Lothor Bren and Yohn Royce to send men to clear it.
The High Tower, meanwhile, had already been surrounded layer upon layer.
Gendry sat in a folding camp chair, with Daenerys beside him.
Next were the white knights, lined up in two rows to protect the king on either side.
In the square stood three kneelers from the Iron Islands, representing three great houses.
The Great Sept of the Stars was Oldtown's landmark, though its glory had later passed to the Great Sept of Baelor. Its facilities were complete, and the square could hold a great many people.
Dragonfire blazed at the edge of the square, burning corpses along with Crow's Eye's evil banner.
The Dragons even flew down into the square and fed directly on the corpses of the Ironborn.
Their own people would receive dignified treatment, but the Ironborn were simply burned or eaten by Dragons. The heads of many Ironborn lords were mounted on spearpoints.
Crow's Eye's evil ship, the Silence, was searched carefully again and again, then dismantled.
"Crow's Eye abducted quite a lot of treasure," Gendry said, even after setting aside the riches that had already been scattered.
Inside Crow's Eye's Silence were still heaps of jewels, which Gendry inspected once more with magical flames.
"Yes, Your Grace. When the Silence returned, its hold was packed with treasure: gilded plates, pearls, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires as large as eggs, sack after sack of coins too heavy for anyone to lift... Crow's Eye took every chance he could to bribe and buy people off."
Rodrik Harlaw spoke with dread. The Dragon was devouring Ironborn corpses right in front of him, and the scorched stench carried by the flames filled him with fear.
The men of House Drumm and House Goodbrother did not dare say much either. In their eyes, Crow's Eye had been invincible, let alone Storm, the Dragonlord who had defeated him.
"Only a few things were worth noticing," Gendry said. He had taken off his heavy armor and changed into a black garment striped with gold, still bearing his Quartered Arms.
Crow's Eye's soot-colored Valyrian steel secret armor, several Valyrian steel daggers, and a strange map that seemed to depict Valyria Castle in its prime.
But Crow's Eye neither read books nor collected them. With his talent as a Skinchanger, he could invade souls directly, so there truly was no need for much else.
By comparison, the gold and jewels were nothing.
There was also that strange, viscous Shade of the Evening. It seemed Crow's Eye had drunk it all, leaving Gendry only a wooden keg.
As for his infamous Black Cells, all the prisoners inside had been sacrificed in this bloody battle, but the cells were still thick with the stench of blood and filth, a darkness almost impossible to imagine.
The most dangerous thing was the Firewyrm egg in Crow's Eye's captain's cabin. Gendry hastily threw it into the river.
That thing was truly terrifying. It loved fire and heat, and had likely come from the ruins of Valyria.
"Did Crow's Eye actually go there or not?"
Gendry was rather puzzled. There were not many gold coins among the loot, so perhaps Crow's Eye had gone to the ruins of Valyria, but had not gone very far.
Now two heads occupied the most conspicuous place in the square, impaled on iron spearheads.
Crow's Eye Euron Greyjoy, and grim-faced Andrik.
The King of the Iron Islands, and the First Warrior of the Iron Islands.
Next came the supporters of Crow's Eye and Victarion. These dead men had met different ends.
Some had been burned to death, others hacked apart or crushed, leaving only their heads behind.
Almost all of Crow's Eye's mad followers were here, except for those mangled beyond recognition.
"Pinchface" Jon Myre, "Left-Hand" Lucas Codd, Harren Half-Hoare, "Red Oarsman," "Bastard" Kemmett Pyke, Rodrik Freeborn, Torwold Browntooth...
As for Victarion's men, the heads of Nute the Barber, the Lame One, and the One-Eared One were here as well.
After all, Gendry did not know the Kraken's inner details, but Rodrik and the others knew them perfectly well.
"Are there any more?" Gendry asked the three surrendered leaders from the Iron Islands. "Any fish that slipped through the net?"
"None, Your Grace. All of Crow's Eye's and Victarion's followers, all their diehards, are dead," Rodrik said respectfully.
"If any remain, they would be those left behind to hold the Iron Islands when Crow's Eye departed," Dunstan Drumm added.
"Crow's Eye started this war. That was usurpation, treason, and rebellion."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The three men, Harlaw, Drumm, and Goodbrother, did not dare say anything more.
The guards carried a body before the king. It was Fletcher Dick.
Fletcher had been called the finest archery master and craftsman in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, yet in the end, he too had died to an arrow.
"I killed a hundred enemies, and still I could not save him. My archery master." Gendry looked at Fletcher's aged face. The dead man still wore a smile.
"He died smiling, Your Grace," Anguy said with a bow. "Master Dick hoped you would bury him in the Kingswood, together with his brothers from the Brotherhood."
"We are the Kingswood Brotherhood..."
"He should have been buried in the House of the Fallen in King's Landing, but he still preferred the Kingswood." Gendry's voice was heavy with grief and memory.
War always brought death, but the passing of teachers who had once supported and instructed him still filled Gendry with sorrow.
Aside from Fletcher, Jason Melisent, Lord of Seagard, was also gravely wounded. His face was pale, and his indigo robe had been stained brown with blood.
An Ironborn axe had struck deep into his waist and abdomen during the melee, leaving a wound that would be difficult to heal.
Fortunately, his son and heir, Patrek, was also here.
"Your Grace." Jason's face was bloodless. "I killed many Ironborn, but I still fell to the Ironborn's tricks."
"Rest and tend your wounds, Lord Jason," Gendry said gently to Lord Jason. Those hands were broad and powerful, but the man truly was getting old.
"Patrek shall be Lord of Seagard and The Twins."
Lord Jason said no more. His final choice had been the right one.
Jason had no regrets left. He had defeated his old enemies, House Frey and House Greyjoy, and fallen on the battlefield.
The wars that needed fighting had been fought. He had lived his life as a warrior, and had won even greater honor for his house.
The heir of House Melisent helped his father away to rest.
Paxter Redwyne and Morosh arrived there with their guests, Asha Greyjoy and the Red Viper Oberyn Martell.
"Lady Asha." Gendry looked at the woman, Balon's daughter. "Your uncle Euron's head is here too. Pity he can no longer smile."
Asha had originally taken her supporters and meant to flee straight east, only to run into Morosh's great fleet while passing through the Stepstones.
"Your Grace." Asha knelt at the king's feet, enduring the faint scent of blood that seemed to linger in the air.
Of course Asha saw her uncle's head. She had never imagined their next meeting would be this cold.
It was said that in the bloody Battle of Oldtown, this Great Sept Square had been the bloodiest place of all.
Here, Gendry had killed Crow's Eye. Here, he had killed Andrik.
"You've been reunited with your two uncles. No, three uncles," Gendry said. "They're all dead."
"Thank you for Your Grace's mercy." Asha lowered her head, wondering why she had only seen Crow's Eye's head.
"Victarion seems to have been poisoned by a Firewyrm. It burst out of his body and killed him, then he was thrown into the river. As for the Drowned Man Aeron, he was sacrificed by Crow's Eye."
Crow's Eye had stacked several buffs on himself, layer upon layer like a mille-feuille.
Skinchanger, Dragon Horn, summoning wind and rain, and Kraken. If Gendry had not had just as many buffs of his own, this battle would most likely have been lost.
Everyone looked at the king with both reverence and fear. Robert Baratheon had only been a warrior of the mortal world.
But the wonders displayed by Gendry and Crow's Eye belonged in the realm of "divine warriors."
"To be honest, I want you to bend the knee to the Iron Throne. I think your head is quicker than your father's or your uncles'."
"Will you appoint me Head of House Greyjoy?" Asha asked in astonishment.
"No. You are only the Head of House Greyjoy. There will be no Lord of the Iron Islands. I intend to abolish the seat of Seastone."
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