"Ser Wolf."
"Snow."
Jon grimaced, but maintained his composure. The Wolf was at a window, looking out to the bay. Jon thought the windowsill carried four indentations corresponding to the Wolf's armored fingers.
"You said the other day that you killed Ramsay Bolton."
The barbarian nodded but still looked out to sea. He seemed to be looking for a specific ship.
"That I did."
"How?"
The Wolf turned and leaned against the wall.
"Not after a long and drawn-out battle, I can tell you that. He fell so swiftly I had to make do with one of his underlings. Now that was a halfway decent fight, name of Amber or Ember or something. You know him?"
"Umber? The Smalljon?"
"Maybe. He still alive?"
"No. Tormund tore out his throat."
"Hah! I see I misjudged neither of them."
"And so you killed Ramsay... on the first blow?"
"Hardly. I was fighting your Smalljon- a well-chosen name, I don't think he came up to my shoulder- and halfway through the little toad took a shot at me! Can you believe that?"
Jon nodded.
"Ah, I see I am teaching you nothing new. Of course I couldn't let that go without consequence, and I killed him then and there. By the time I'd finished, the others had all gone. Can't say I blame them, hardly a sight worth skipping a battle for."
"And you... took his head?"
"I did."
"After flaying him?"
"Of course. You can flay headless corpses, obviously, but it's just not the same."
"Why!?"
"Because my gods demanded it."
The Wolf's reply was as matter-of-fact as asking the Free Folk why they fought to remain free.
"As they demanded the heads of others, few of which were of any difficulty in slaying. The Molehill, that Fingers shrimp, the Night King, now there was another victory for no gain..."
Jon was about to correct him on who had killed the Night King, but stopped himself in time. The barbarian seemed quite capable of going after Arya next if he learned of her feat.
"But you didn't flay the Mountain, or Littlefinger."
"No, but they didn't try to stick me with an arrow while I was busy with a better fight. Very rude of him. I had to teach him some manners, you understand, before he ran into a Southling lord less forgiving than I am."
"But how did you get close enough to kill him? I was at that battle and never saw you."
The Wolf smirked. Not for the first time, Jon fought an urge to punch him.
"That is what you may expect when the master of the Seafang sets his prow on you."
Jon restrained himself with difficulty.
"And do you intend to go after Euron Greyjoy with the same goal?"
The Wolf looked him in the eye and shrugged.
"If such is his fate. I have received no vision concerning him since... since I arrived at Dragonstone."
"Your gods speak to you often?"
"When they need something killed, be it man, beast or monster. And these do not cease until it lies dead, gutted and beheaded at my feet."
The Wolf's tone was breezy enough, but it seemed to Jon such nonchalance hid something. Before he could inquire further, a castle guard ran in, straight towards Jon.
"Raven from Sunspear sir! The Iron Fleet's been spotted headed back north!"
"How far!?"
"They'll be at Dragonstone within the day!"
An emergency council of war had been called. Daenerys' war camp had not yet been dismantled, and the command tent was now packed with officers not just from the three armies following her but the city officials and Ser Brienne, Lord Commander of the combined Goldcloaks and Whitecloaks.
"Euron's coming back? But why? Why now?"
"Probably thinking we're too weak to resist after Cersei's trick failed."
"Does he want the Throne? Why would..."
Grey Worm's arrival put a stop to most of the fruitless babbling. Jon looked at Davos Seaworth.
"Davos, what do you say?"
Davos Seaworth, hastily appointed Master of Ships, shook his head.
"I don't see that they could have replenished their losses from Dragonstone. We lost a lot less on our side than I'd expected during the assault, but it'll still be a bloody fight."
"This is Daenerys' city, they will not take it. Even if they sink every last one of the ships, they will not breach the walls. The Unsullied will see to it."
Davos looked at Grey Worm.
"They'll have to. We can't raise the chain, the River Gate is as wide open to them as it was to us."
"I don't suppose..."
A guildmaster's glance slid to Tyrion. He shook his head, having expected the suggestion.
"Euron will be expecting it. And we'd have to find whatever caches of wyldfyre didn't go off, Cersei used up all of it to destroy the Sept."
His single greatest victory could not be repeated.
Tyrion looked around. Most faces were downcast, Jon's especially. Then he saw Jon's eyes go to him, then a point far above and behind, then back to him. He grimaced. The Wolf had not shown any hint of explaining his outburst in the throne room only a few hours prior, perhaps he was more in his element now.
Tyrion sighed.
"Ser Wolf, what is your advice?"
Tyrion was thankful he could not see the barbarian standing behind him. It was all too easy to picture the smug look on his face. He saw Davos' expression, which must have mirrored his own.
He had often heard that it was better for a ship to have a single bad captain than two good ones. Davos Seaworth was the best sailor known to King's Landing, the Wolf had little tolerance for any authority save his own, how would they work together?
"Take the fight to them..."
Dark mutterings were heard around the room. Jon rolled his eyes.
" ...on your own terms."
Davos looked intrigued.
"Meaning what?"
The Wolf easily shoved his way through the crowd to stand before the map table. He took a skull that looked like a giant rat or other rodent of unusual size from his shoulder and snapped one of its canines off.
"Here's their fleet."
He placed the tooth at the entrance to Blackwater Bay.
"Here's yours."
Several smaller molars were snapped off and placed along the seawalls of King's Landing.
"Here're the men: Snow's, Worm's and the horse-lovers."
A few incisors were placed on the city itself.
"As the Shield-slayer will tell you, the rust-born arranged for the river chain to be unliftable during the siege. He did so after murdering my men to better disguise his agent. So where else will he go but straight for it?"
Tyrion felt several glances pointed at him. The Wolf moved the Iron Fleet's marker to the western end of the bay.
"They're the hammer, the river mouth is the anvil. Your ships are all that stands between them. So, and this is the important part, when you see them coming, you scatter to either side."
The molars were swept to either side of the bay and the canine progressed upriver.
"The rust-born's a coward at heart, he'll think it only natural that his inflated reputation leads you to flee. So they'll advance unopposed, and once they're at the gate, or better yet, already starting to land their troops..."
The canine now blocked the river, touching the rat's incisors on the waterfront.
"… that's when you come in."
The canine was now surrounded by incisors before and molars behind.
"Their turn to be between hammer and anvil. Between the grinder on the beachhead, the scorpions on the walls, and Seaworth coming up their backsides like a randy Tilean, you'll soon be able to give the Dragonqueen the rust-born's head as a welcome gift."
Tyrion frowned at the map. The way the Wolf explained it, it certainly made sense. But Davos spoke up amid a storm of angry voices.
"Leave the river open? It'll be murder on the footsoldiers."
The officers, Jon and Grey Worm among them, showed their assent. The Wolf shrugged.
"It's what they're paid for. You think what's left of your ships can hold out against all of theirs, instead of half? And that's with them trying to cram their ships into the river, those inside trying to pull back, those outside trying to push in."
Jon intervened.
"The wall scorpions'll do plenty of damage before the fleet even hits the wall. We can't have the Iron Islanders landing to rampage among the citizens. The infantry will assemble along the river, but they'll have to be a last resort."
The Wolf looked at Jon for a moment and seemed about to say something, then stopped and shrugged.
"You'd know about guarding walls better than me."
The Wolf turned his head back to the map.
"So we block the river. Using what?"
Tyrion did not bother to hide his surprise. The last time the Wolf had given advice, it was with the clear expectation that not following it was to invite failure. Now he was conceding the point with barely a protest?
Davos looked at the map and pushed the teeth back to their pre-battle positions.
"There are a few hulks sitting in the shipyards, we'll chain them together in the channel. It'll keep the squids at a distance under the engines from the walls, and let us sweep in while they're under attack."
The Wolf made a dubious face.
"Ships burn. Those bolt throwers of theirs can hit a moving target a mile up in the air, you think an anchored ship will be harder to hit?"
The Wolf apparently did not notice the spasm that flew over Davos' face at the mention of burning ships in the Blackwater.
"It'll buy us time. We can't chain the river anyway, not solidly enough that they can't just cut it down."
"We could sink the hulks in the channel?"
Both Davos and the Wolf turned to stare at the speaker, a ranger from the Wall, who seemed to shrink in the face of two men who'd spent their lives at sea.
"Wouldn't stop them. They'll attack with the rising tide anyway."
The Wolf nodded.
"And their flagship has a ram. Ship that size, full sail, coming in with the tide, it'd outrun a bird on the wing, and break the hulk in half even if it was filled with rocks."
Davos agreed.
"The current will do the rest, leaving them free to enter the river. They'll still be dodging scorpion bolts all the while, but leaving the hulks floating will delay them longer."
Tyrion spoke up.
"And it'd prevent ships from going through after the battle until they're removed. It's hard enough keeping everybody fed without cutting off merchant traffic."
There were murmurs of assent from the traders present. Tyrion thought he heard "trust the Imp to think of the money", but graciously ignored it. He'd have time enough to find out just who said that afterwards.
The Wolf nodded, but his expression remained dubious. Tyrion truly hoped he was not about to suggest alternate methods of keeping fed during a siege. Thankfully Jon moved on to another issue.
"As for the city guard..."
Jon sighed.
"Ser Brienne, how many able-bodied men can we count on?"
Brienne shook her head.
"Not that many. And of those still able to fight, there's a good number I wouldn't trust to win against a mean drunk."
She hesitated only for a moment.
"We should arm the prisoners. These are their homes they're fighting for, better to have them on our side than broken free by the invaders."
There was such a hubbub raised by this proposal that Tyrion had difficulty hearing what the Wolf muttered with a grin. Something about inside pissing out and outside pissing in.
A grain merchant spoke up.
"And the Golden Company? Shouldn't we arm them too?"
"Strickland hasn't been seen since the assault. If they want to get paid, we can easily persuade them to fight for the Throne."
"The elephants still left would be useful on the beachhead. They're the only ones who know how to handle them."
Grey Worm spoke up.
"Their elephants will be deployed. But they will be surrounded by Dothraki, to ensure they do not run away... or decide to side with the Iron Islander. And the soldiers of the Lannisters will be on the front lines."
After much debate and concessions all around, the plan was deemed sound, or at least the one with the fewest problems. Tyrion thought it boded well that no one had suggested surrendering to Euron or attempting negotiations with him, hopefully out of fear of him but more likely fear of what Daenerys would do on her return.
Next came the allotment of positions for the upcoming battle.
"And where will you be, Ser Wolf?"
"In a whorehouse downing a tankard or six of ale."
The Wolf grinned.
"Unless you think I could be more useful on a ship fighting the rust-born?"
Jon grimaced.
"You will obey Ser Davos' commands?"
The Wolf looked straight at Davos.
"Are those commands likely to be more complicated than "attack"?"
"… No."
"Good! I'll be getting the Seafang ready."
Once again the giant turned around and headed outside, having clearly decided the meeting could produce nothing more of use to him. Halfway through he stopped, raised a finger and pointed at Davos.
"Just one thing, Seaworth- Should anyone board the Silence before I do, Euron is mine. I would have words with him concerning the deaths of my crew."
No sooner had the tent flap fallen closed than a soldier ran in, clutching a tiny roll of parchment.
"Message my lords! From Dragonstone!"
Jon took the message and read it aloud.
"They're bringing down our ravens. We're sending them out all at once in the hope that at least one gets through. The Iron Fleet is here and sailing into the bay."
In the silence that followed, Jon Snow looked at the soldier.
"How many others?"
The messenger shook his head.
"That was the only one, sir."
"Then we have two days."