"Hightower has surrendered."
"Hightower has surrendered."
"Euron!"
"Euron!"
The Ironborn's cheers echoed through all of Oldtown, and the captains shouted Crow's Eye's name.
Victarion's face went ashen. "This is Crow's Eye's victory. Where are my supporters?"
Victarion looked at the huge dragon horn aboard his ship. Only the dragon horn had the power to defy the heavens and change his fate.
Seize the Dragon, burn Crow's Eye to death, take Shyvana, and make himself king.
"This is my path. I will not let Crow's Eye's dream come true," Victarion whispered to the dark-skinned woman beside him. "He has taken Oldtown, but I will take everything from him."
A terrifying banner loomed over Oldtown. Every ship flew Crow's Eye's flag: two crows holding up a black iron crown, with a red eye and black pupil beneath it.
The surviving people of Oldtown hid in the upper floors of their homes, too frightened to show their faces, waiting for orders from the Hightower.
Though the violent tide had receded and the sea wind had eased, the slaughter brought by the tide and the Kraken had carved itself into Oldtown.
From upstream to downstream, the wealthy, beautiful city had become a flooded wasteland, drowned and broken by water.
Only a few of the tallest and strongest buildings still stood alone: the Hightower at the river mouth and the great domed halls of the various Septs.
"Reader, go to the Citadel. Do not lose a single book, and bring back the key to the Sphinx," Crow's Eye ordered Rodrik the Reader, sending him north first.
All kinds of bodies floated in the water, along with broken pieces of buildings, clothing, furniture, and the corpses of humans, dogs, pigs, cattle, and sheep. Soldiers and commoners alike.
Some bodies were still whole, while others looked as if the Kraken had torn most of them apart.
Some had been crushed, some drowned, some bitten to death, and others killed by falls. Few had actually died by Ironborn hands.
Most of the buildings had collapsed. Sewer openings had been ripped apart, and the cobblestone streets were cracked and smashed into chaos.
"With everyone dead, who will rebuild Oldtown for us?" Dunstan Thogmor asked in a low, puzzled voice.
"Smallfolk live and die as they please. If they're dead, they're dead. We have gold and spoils now. Ironborn do not farm. We can just take the loot and captives and leave," one of Crow's Eye's supporters said dismissively.
At the river mouth, the towering Hightower lowered its green flame and its golden quartered banner, then raised House Greyjoy's golden Kraken banner.
The Ironborn ships formed a circle beneath the broken cliffs of Battle Island.
The aged "Old Man of Oldtown," Leyton Hightower, and "Madwoman" Malora Hightower, brought their guards down a perilous hidden stair to the riverside.
The edges of Leyton's and the madwoman's smoke-gray cloaks were trimmed with flame-shaped red satin. Behind them stood soldiers in gray steel ringmail and smoke-gray cloaks.
The madwoman wore a smoke-gray gown, her silver hair flowing freely. She looked noble and beautiful, with few marks of age upon her.
The bells of the Hightower rang out. They marked the changing of kings, the death of the old king and the rise of the new.
Or perhaps it was simply surrender.
Once one bell rang, bells in every other place where living people remained began to ring as well. The tolling did not stop.
Crow's Eye stood aboard the Silence, gazing at the Hightower, listening to a beautiful song.
The Silence was ruthless, cruel, and swift, with a long, low hull of dark red and black sails like a starless night.
"Your Grace, this is the map of Oldtown and the keys to the Stone Dragon." Leyton came aboard the Silence, knelt before Crow's Eye, and offered him a map of Oldtown and two dragon horns.
"Today I will conquer Westeros as Aegon the Conqueror once did. I have felt your loyalty." Crow's Eye helped Leyton up with a refined air, then accepted the map and the dragon horns.
"May Your Grace become the bright light of the Seven Kingdoms and soon spread your grace to every corner of the realm." Leyton's words pleased Crow's Eye greatly.
"These dragon horns are rather crude. How were the Stone Dragons made?" Crow's Eye asked with interest.
Crow's Eye toyed with Hightower's horn. It was a three-foot brown ox horn, like a poor imitation of a true dragon horn, worked with red gold, black gold, gems, and runic arrays.
"It was the work of my ancestors and generations of maesters. Your Grace should know that the Targaryen Dragonlords visited the Hightower many times and used their Dragons to intimidate us.
"With no other choice, my ancestors searched both shores of the Narrow Sea and found the well-preserved remains of a Dragon. They made the Stone Dragon from it and had it draw constantly on the Hightower's flame. But it seems it only became useful after the Red Comet," explained "Madwoman" Malora Hightower, holding a green glass candle.
"And this is?" Crow's Eye asked, pretending not to know.
"My daughter Malora, my treasure and the pride of House Hightower. Malora has long admired Your Grace's command of both war and statecraft, and she is willing to join herself to you."
"Good. Good. Good." Crow's Eye laughed loudly, then took Malora's hand.
Malora was a tall, imposing, silver-haired beauty. Though she was called the madwoman, her features were excellent, and with even a little adornment, she was quite striking.
In truth, Malora was no longer young. She was at least around forty, but her face still looked unchanged, almost youthful.
The madwoman's younger sister already had three grown children, the three Tyrell siblings, yet the madwoman herself had never married.
"I never imagined that today, like Great Lord Mace, I would become a son-in-law of Hightower."
"It is the Hightower's honor, Your Grace," Leyton answered smoothly.
Since the madwoman was willing, there was nothing to be done. Originally, this daughter had been meant to marry Mace, but she possessed no small magic Talent, and the matter had been left unresolved.
"I am sorry about Ser Garth and Ser Gunthor, Father-in-law."
"I saw it in the flames. They failed to see their own future. You are not to blame," the madwoman said.
"There is still stored gold in Oldtown's vaults. It may be placed at Your Grace's disposal," Leyton said, his expression unchanged.
"There is no hurry, Father-in-law. I appoint you steward of Oldtown. You may return to the Hightower and command your vassals. I will put my focus on my duel with the false king Gendry."
"As you command, Your Grace." Leyton bowed. "The banners have been changed, the ravens have flown, and the bells have rung. I swear loyalty to His Grace Euron Greyjoy. Anyone who disobeys my command is a traitor."
"Then I will trouble you with that, Father-in-law."
"I will write to my vassals, to Highgarden, and to The Reach, urging them to pledge loyalty to Your Grace."
"That will make my task much easier."
"No one is to harass the Hightower by so much as a step. Lady Malora is one of my wives, and Lord Leyton is my father-in-law," Crow's Eye ordered, turning back.
"Euron!"
"Euron!"
"Euron!"
The Ironborn cheered. Leyton's pathetic display satisfied them greatly.
Even a tower as noble as the Hightower had to bend the knee to the Ironborn.
Even without plundering the Hightower, Oldtown was rich enough for them to gorge themselves elsewhere.
The Old Man of Oldtown returned to the Hightower, while the madwoman remained aboard the Silence.
"Come, my queen."
"Gladly, Your Grace," the madwoman said fervently.
The madwoman ignored the pitiful mute pregnant girl at the prow of the Silence.
The Ironborn danced with their longships and the Iron Fleet, while some ships remained beneath the Hightower.
"We go upstream."
"We go upstream."
Then Crow's Eye ordered the fleet to sail upriver, sweeping through Oldtown from near to far as they prepared to meet the enemy from the north.
Oldtown's terrain was shaped like a trumpet-mouthed estuary, winding along the Honeywine, and now waterways spread everywhere.
At the lower river mouth stood the Hightower, the long-burned docks, and the residential districts behind the dock walls that had been ravaged by water.
Farther upstream were the city's wonders. West of the Honeywine, palace-like guildhalls had once lined the banks, but now they were ruins. The city hall and barracks had been flattened, and the gaudy corpses of Sellswords lay by the roadside.
At the farthest upstream point, the Citadel's domes and towers rose on both sides of the river, joined by stone bridges woven among the buildings.
Downstream, beneath the Starry Sept's black marble walls and arched windows, stood the homes of the wealthiest and most devout.
Aside from the Citadel, the other buildings had met with disaster.
"First, seize those septons for me."
"As you command, Your Grace."
Crow's Eye and the madwoman turned and entered the cabin. Even before battle, they could enjoy a brief moment of bodily pleasure.
The two fell into frenzy upon the swan bed, while glass candles burned with bewitching flame. Together they drank Shade of the Evening and shared the prophecies in their dreams.
"I am yours."
Two torn garments, two bodies drawing close, two mad hearts, the pleasure of the Kraken and the Hightower.
"I see you, Your Grace. The Kraken blots out the sky. You are the one true king," the madwoman cried out in delight.
"You are one of my queens. Together, we will rule this world." The madwoman's hands clawed bloody marks across Crow's Eye's back, but to him the sensation was sweet.
She was the eldest daughter of House Hightower, and there was a powerful thrill of conquest in it. Crow's Eye had never slept with a woman of such rank before.
As for women of the other great houses, Crow's Eye had never even dared to imagine them. It was said the Stag had brought a whole group of noblewomen with him.
"Smash the idols of the false gods. True glory begins with the Drowned God."
The longships rode the wind to the Great Sept, and the Ironborn cheered in delight. Not only was the Great Sept wealthy, the surrounding district was also where Oldtown's rich lived.
The seawater had not soaked every part of the Starry Great Sept. In the ruined half of the open-air hall, stained glass and statues could still be seen.
The Great Sept had also been badly damaged by the Kraken, nearly razed to the ground.
"Take away these priests of false gods."
The Ironborn plundered the Sept's valuables, set fire to images of the Seven Gods, and dragged away any septons and septas who still showed signs of life.
"No, you thieves!" an elderly septa in gray robes cried out.
Then an Ironborn split her in two with an axe, sending head, bone, and brains flying.
"Old thing talks too much."
No Sept, septon, or priest escaped the disaster.
The gates of the Citadel remained shut tight. After hearing the bells of the Hightower, they too began to ring their bells, signaling obedience.
The Sphinx descended and once again landed at the gate of the Citadel.
Oldtown's bells rang without end, loud enough that even Gendry outside the city could hear them.
"What does that mean?" Gendry asked.
"Oldtown has surrendered, Your Grace. Those are the bells for changing kings," Randyll said.
The worst possible result had come to pass. Hightower had surrendered again.
"Where is the Redwyne fleet?" Gendry asked Marwyn and the red priestess.
"Coming through Whispering Sound. If we withstand the first few waves of attack, we can surround the Kraken. Otherwise, the Kraken will defeat us one by one," Marwyn answered.
"Your Grace, Oldtown has almost entirely become waterways. Only ships can move and raid there now," the lookout who had gone to observe reported. "Aside from the Hightower and the Citadel, the rest is probably destroyed."
"Board the ships," Gendry ordered at once.
"Release the trebuchets."
The trebuchets set upstream outside Oldtown, on both sides of The Roseroad, roared to life. Stones as large as buckets began to fly toward the city.
After circling through the sky, the true Dragons returned to the rear and first burned several longships near the Citadel.
"Dragons! The Dragons are coming!" the Ironborn shouted.
"Have you come?" Crow's Eye stepped onto the deck and looked toward the distant sky.
Upstream, a great spread of longships appeared like scattered stars, flying the golden quartered banners.
"Victarion, the next part is yours," Crow's Eye thought.
Crow's Eye summoned two more mute bastards and handed them Hightower's dragon horn. Soon, the Stone Dragon would fly once again.