"They used to say you could see all the beauty of the world, in the way that a hanged man wriggled" comments Lord Tallhart, as they watch a handful of prisoners, dangling from ropes, tied to tree branches.

"Who said that?" replies Ser Raymond.

"The Boltons."

"I thought they preferred flaying. Not that there are any Boltons any more. My wife saw to that."

"Is it true that her Grace fed the Bastard to his dogs?"

"Absolutely. She's not someone to cross." He looks away from the hanging men to the bodies on the ground. More of a skirmish than a battle, but one that still went in his favour. The vanguards of both armies clashed, before Grey Worm withdrew his men.

Norrey rides up, looking flushed. "You did it, your Highness! You broke the Unsullied!" he calls excitedly.

"We didn't break them, my lord, we overwhelmed a couple of hundred of them" replies Ser Raymond. "Every one of them died facing us, and our van outnumbered them three to one. Even then, we lost as many men as they did".

"But we have the larger army. We can cope with those losses."

"We have an advantage in numbers, but this war is far from over".

"I shall arrange for news of your Highness' victory to be relayed to Her Grace immediately, by raven."

"I thank you my lord". Norrey rides away.

"The problem with fanatics is that they see what they want to see" he comments to Cerwyn. "We have the advantage in numbers, but only a fool would underrate Unsullied or Ironborn."

"I've heard there are exiles among them. They may not match the others in quality, but they'll fight viciously, I'm sure."

"At the risk of talking sedition, I think that's one decision of my wife's that has come back to haunt us." He sees the surprise on Tallhart's face, before continuing "You and I may be dead in a few days' time; I think we can be honest with each other, about the nature of the regime we serve. If we return victorious, I'm going to insist on very big changes in government. Frankly, my wife is hated more than the Mad King ever was. This has to end. Do I have your backing?"

"Of course, your Highness. If we are victorious".

A few miles to the West, Grey Worm seethes as the remnants of the vanguard return. Their commander, Ser Tristifer Botley pushed too far ahead of the rest of the army, and got a bloody nose. Two hundred dead Unsullied, and as many casualties among the Ironborn are hard to forgive, but this can be turned to advantage. He turns to Yara and Qarl, "Your Grace, my lord, I would retreat a short distance. " She looks troubled.

"We depend on momentum. No one will turn against Sansa if they think she will win. But, her support will vanish if she's losing".

"I'm not suggesting running away. We match the enemy's numbers in infantry, I believe, but he has a big advantage in cavalry. I take the trouble to study the world's principal commanders. I never know when I might be fighting either against, or alongside, them. Ser Raymond is no fool, sadly. But, he will be confident, and he will follow us. I shall offer him battle on a field of my choosing, where his cavalry cannot outflank us. I have a site in mind. Even if he is cautious, his men will be eager for the fight. None of his lords will wish to be seen as coward. We can turn this to our advantage". He then outlines his plans to Yara, who gives her approval. "What do you want me to do?"

"You know what I want you to do, keep out of danger. But, you won't do that, will you?"

"You know I can't. It's not just I enjoy a fight, my men will only respect a leader who fights. But don't worry, I won't interfere with your orders. "

"Then take command of a cavalry squadron. But, don't be reckless, if my say so, your Grace."

"Just this once".

A couple of hours later, the army pulls out, and marches back down the road it has come. Night is falling, by the time they reach the position that Grey Worm has in mind. A good position. The road leads into a dense forest, giving them cover to retreat if the battle goes against them. On their right flank flows a river, swift and deep, and, he judges, impassable to horsemen. His scouts say the only ford lies miles to the West, although he will check this for himself. There has been steady rain in recent days, which is all to the good. The battlefield will be muddy, reducing the advantage of cavalry. On his left, the ground ascends sharply, up to a ridge of hills. He will place skirmishers there, but he expects no serious assault. No, the battle will be a slogging match, but one where he has plans to reduce the enemy's advantage in numbers still further. The enemy is still ten miles away, but his men yet have work to do, in advance of the fight. He gives his lieutenants their orders, and they set to their tasks