Yara dismounts from her horse, as her men ransack the enemy camp. Inevitably, Casporio and his men have got there first to plunder it. She sees him, dismounted, and surrounded by his cronies, wearing a gilded helmet, obviously looted, and swigging from a bottle of wine, declaiming to his men:

"Brave champions of the Loyal Swords!" The men crow with laughter.

"Forget that. Brave men of the Loyal Swords!" More laughter.

"Well, men, anyway!" He flourishes his bottle as they applaud. " We end this glorious day far richer than we began it. All thanks to her Grace, Yara Greyjoy, rightful Queen of North. " He waves his bottle in her direction, as his men cheer lustily, and she bows.

"As you well know" continues Casporio, "I have never been a man to risk your lives unnecessarily. Or at all, if I can avoid it. Honour and glory on the field of war are best left for better men than us. Or stupider men at any rate. Our task is to grow rich!" More laughter and applause. Yara joins him and butts in "Cut the crap Casporio, your task is far from over. You've got two hundred horse. There's a beaten army to pursue. Half of them got away. I doubt if there's much fight left in them, but I don't want to give them any chance to regroup. You get paid once you're job is done; not before. And give me that bottle" Casporio shakes his head sadly; "You're a hard taskmistress, your Grace. And, I love you for it. Come on lads! There are fleeing enemies to pursue! " He hands her the bottle, and then they mount their horses and ride away.

She takes a deep swallow. The wine is good. She is exhausted after the fight. She wanders through the camp, where a wild party seems to be in progress, as the soldiers get increasingly drunk. She meets Grey Worm, surrounded by his staff. He has a bandage wrapped around his head, and obscuring his left eye. "Your eye!" she cries. "I know" he responds. "An arrow took it, right at the end of the fight. "

"Oh Gods!" she responds.

"I knew the risks I was running, your Grace. The day is ours. Half the enemy got away, but the remaining sellswords won't fight on. And, I'm willing to bet that most Northern lords will be rushing to make peace with you, now. "

"I won't be offering peace to everyone. Some crimes can't be forgiven"

"I know that too. There will be those who will know that surrender is not an option. They will make a last stand with Sansa. Perhaps at White Harbour, with the Manderlys, but more likely Winterfell. It will be a tough nut to crack, but I expect we'll have most of the North on our side now. We've shown them that they need no longer fear her."

"Sansa ought to ride hard for White Harbour, and take ship. But, she's never been a coward, whatever her other faults. She wouldn't have survived Ramsay Bolton if she had been. " She is silent for a moment. Then "I know that the Beast did to her. He did the same things to my brother. If she did nothing else in her life that was good, at least she rid the world of that animal. What's the butcher's bill?"

"Half my men, killed or injured". She winces. "We were fighting their best, on the centre and left. The Royal Horseguards, the men at arms, the most skilled of their foot. Perhaps four thousand casualties on our side, all told, twice that number on theirs. And a few thousand prisoners. What do you want to do with them?"

"Most of them? Give them the chance to switch sides, or disarm them and send them home if they won't. Any murderers and rapists among them, we hang".

""Some of them were in the Inquisition. They had taken prisoners out of the camps, to serve the army. The prisoners can identify them to us, and then I'll kill them."

"Hanging is too good for those bastards. We'll burn them alive. It will cheer their prisoners. Get them to work for us "

"You'll have no disagreement from me on that score. Plenty of my people have died in agony at their hands. " Despite his pain, Grey Worm smiles. "I've waited fifteen years for this. I don't know if she's a goddess, but wherever she is now, I know she's smiling on us. "

"We've avenged her, old friend. The only one left is Jon Snow. But, if he was the sword, The Imp, Tarly, and Sansa were the arm directing the blow. I don't think that creature in Kings Landing counts. You're right, the longer he remains in place, the less of a threat they are to us. What were they thinking, electing him as their King? "Bran the Broken?" More like "Bran the Witless?""

"I've often thought about that. I think Tyrion wanted a weak king in place, so that he could rule the Six Kingdoms. What he didn't realise was that ruling was beyond his abilities. He ought to have known. Every bit of advice he gave our Queen was disastrous."

"Was he playing her false, do you think?"

"I've asked myself the same question, a hundred times. I think he was trying to play her off against his own family, in order to prove to them all that he was the cleverest. And, yet, he wasn't clever. He thought with his cock. In the end, it was so very easy to kill him off."

Qarl the Maid strolls over to them. "We're roasting a whole boar, Yara, and we've got a barrel of excellent Dornish. Grey Worm, will you join us. " The three stroll over to a splendid pavilion, evidently owned by one of the Northern high command. Later that evening, the burning of a dozen inquisitors will round off what has been a momentous day for them.

Notes:

Casporio has a fair amount in common with Nicomo Cosca of the First Law Trilogy, by Joe Abercrombie.