The Hound glared up at the infirmary ceiling.

"Fuck off."

Beric looked surprised, then grinned. Arya looked elated.

"Knew you were too spiteful to just die on us."

The Hound blinked his remaining eye, and cleared his throat before spitting on the floor. He took in Arya and Beric standing near the bed.

"So you did as I said then."

Arya nodded. Sandor sighed.

"I take it the Targaryen's in charge now. What's new?"

Arya and Beric shared an awkward look.

"No. She's..."

Silence fell. Beric coughed.

"It'll take a while to explain. I'm glad to see you alive, in any case."

Arya interjected.

"But Tyrion will want to know, did you see Cersei when you were up there?"

Sandor nodded.

"I did, aye."

Before Arya could continue, the Hound went on.

"That Wolf asshole was there too. Dunno how he managed to hide himself, but the look on Cersei's face when he came down the stairs..."

Beric and Arya looked at each other again, with dread this time.

"You're sure of this?!"

"How many big ginger cunts do you know? Apart from the Wildling with the itch for Brienne?"

"What happened then!?"

Sandor was starting to sound annoyed.

"I fought Gregor. Almost got him, and me in the bargain, but then the Wolf came down, fought him instead. Can't remember what he said, but it worked."

The Hound smiled at this pleasing memory.

"Last thing I saw, the big bastard was taking Gregor's head off at the neck. Can't stand him, but he's useful in a fight, have to give him that."

It was the happiest Arya had ever seen him, even with only one eye.

"The Wolf took the Mountain's skull!?"

"You saw him do this?!"

Sandor looked from Arya to Beric. Both wore identical expressions of panic. In the neighboring bed, the bandaged man groaned at the noise.

"Yes, I did. Damn good riddance. Why?"

Arya turned and ran headlong out of the infirmary, Beric on her heels. The Hound was left to look at his neighbor, who was slowly coming to.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"Clegane, what happened!? You saw the Wolf?! What did he do?! Speak, man, speak!"

Despite the air of urgency common to Tyrion, Jon, and Grey Worm, Sandor felt his temper growing shorter, in no small part because Tyrion was standing on his chest and gripping him by the shirt. He pushed himself up, Tyrion nearly falling off.

"He killed Gregor, took his head off, that's the last I remember. Why, what happened? He run off with the treasury?"

"Worse."

"Took a shit in the throne room and wiped himself with the curtains?"

"He killed Daenerys!"

The Hound's eyebrows lifted.

"How the hell'd he manage that?"

"Long story. But he's coming back, to bring a war unlike anything we've ever seen."

Sandor grunted.

"Should've just stayed asleep."

There was moaning from the neighboring bed. The heavily scarred figure sat up and blinked at the crowd surrounding Sandor's bed. When he spoke his voice was weak from disuse.

"I am... Harry Strickland, commander of the Golden Company... what's going on? Where am I?"

Tyrion spoke without missing a beat.

"You're in the Red Keep. Cersei lost. We bought out your contract."

Strickland blinked.

"Lost? The last I remember, there was... lightning from the Keep, Daenerys attacked, I gave orders, then..."

Grey Worm frowned.

"Were you near the gate?"

"Yes, I was!"

Strickland shook his head.

"What happened? Why did the usurper attack after the city had rung the bells?"

Jon put a hand on Grey Worm's shoulder as Tyrion intervened.

"As best we know, Cersei had some kind of strange magic as a last resort. The lightning we saw was a spell that struck Daenerys, took control of her mind and forced her to attack, and she was only able to break free when the combined sound of the bells grew too loud for her. She blasted down the gate while under its influence."

Strickland nodded. His mind at least seemed unaffected by his long convalescence.

"And then?"

Jon shot a glance at Grey Worm.

"The... fighting ended by the end of the day. But we still don't know who cast that spell or where she got it from."

"It must have been Euron's doing!"

Silence greeted this declaration. Tyrion spoke up, his voice carefully measured. Even Sandor was listening intently, although evidently confused.

"… Euron?"

"Yes, Euron Greyjoy. He has a powerful sorcerer in his employ. By the name of..."

Everyone clung to Strickland's lips as he frowned his eyebrows in concentration, desperately hoping not to hear the fateful words.

"Swordeater. Sven Swordeater."

The silence was now even deeper. Tyrion turned to Grey Worm.

"That answers that question."

Beric looked Strickland in the eye.

"What kind of magic? Who was this man?"

Strickland frowned, the burn scars about his face shifting.

"He had a lot of scars and came from the North, or so Euron told me, where he was banished for his experiments. One of them a kind of... huge man-shaped creature, he kept it wrapped under sailcloth. They had a ship like the northerners use, tied his ship to its stern, and we sailed through..."

Strickland shuddered. Even in his long months of sleep he had not forgotten.

"Through some kind of horrible realm of devils and monsters. They attacked us without end, we sustained quite a few losses... But when we finally left the place, we were just offshore from Pentos, in less than a day. That's how he brought the elephants to King's Landing, they were stowed in the cogs while the demons were fighting the men on deck."

Arya felt the need to prod further.

"This... experiment he had, that was kept hidden under cloth. How big was it?"

Strickland shrugged and winced at the no-longer familiar movement.

"Bigger than a bear, easily. It didn't speak, but I think it understood speech."

Jon sighed wearily.

"He's been at this since even before Daenerys landed."

Tyrion nodded.

"He had Euron bring the elephants to Cersei, just in time for the siege."

Jon started.

"And had his sorcerer force her to attack, so that there'd be a battle! That's why he wasn't there, but told Daenerys how best to attack the walls!"

"But how can that be? Sven was burned to a crisp for stealing Varys away."

"… Was he? We've seen the bastard survive dragonfire, who knows what his men are capable of."

Grey Worm looked at Sandor.

"Did you see him among the Wolf's men? An old man, wearing furs, and a staff with a raven?"

Sandor blinked his remaining eye.

"Now that you mention it... there might have been one."

Appalled silence followed. Jon's fists squeezed of their own accord.

"He certainly uses a lot of magic for someone who claims to hate it."

Tyrion frowned.

"I think... I think that might actually be true, he certainly seemed dismissive enough when talking about his seer. It would fit with what he's trying to make us do: assemble an army big enough to give him a challenge, instead of using that magic to kill us in our beds."

Grey Worm looked up.

"The spell came after the city tried to surrender, while she was landing. If the queen had given the signal to attack..."

"He'd have had what he wanted."

"But what did he want? Why was he in the Keep?"

As one they turned back to Sandor, who started.

"Eh? I told you, he showed up, killed Gregor, and that's all I know. Cersei fucked off downstairs, but... he did send men after her, come to think of it. One of them might have had a staff."

"Then where did her body go?"

"Either he took the body for gods know what-"

"Or she's still alive."

No one looked at Tyrion.

"But what value can she be to him as a hostage? Who'd-"

Arya shot a glance at Tyrion, who seemed to be staring someplace far beyond the walls of the infirmary.

"Who'd want her alive?"

Jon shook his head.

"What about Qyburn?"

"What about Qyburn?"

"He had to have been up there. We didn't find his body, or even the Mountain's."

"Maybe they burned up?"

Even as Tyrion said it he didn't look convinced.

"We need to find the Red Priests."

They headed off as one. Sandor and Strickland watched them go.

The Hound turned to his fellow convalescent.

"I don't know about you, but I could murder a chicken right now."

Aldma was just emerging from the quarters given to the delegation when he saw the group running towards him. He paused, visibly wondering what was going on. Arya reached him first.

"He has it!"

"Has what? Who?"

"The Wolf has his last skull."

The Red Priest visibly started and grabbed his staff.

"How!? When?"

"Ever since the siege of King's Landing."

Aldma's eyes bulged. He spun around and lunged into the room, slamming the door behind him. Excited Valyrian could be heard from behind it for some time, the thunderous boom of Parltro covering it at times, then Aldma emerged, looking somewhat calmer.

"Time is of the essence. How did you find this out?"

"Sandor Clegane saw him. He's in the infirmary."

"Then I must go to him."

They followed the Red Priest back the way they'd came. Aldma stepped to the door and looked at them.

"It will go faster if I am alone. Once I have learned from him what I need to know, I will need a map of the continent. We must find him."

He entered the infirmary and closed the door, though not fast enough that they didn't hear the Hound's exasperated voice.

"Fuck's sake, what now!?"

Some time later, the Red Priest emerged. The panic was gone from his face, now set in grim determination.

They entered the library of the Red Keep. Arya was struck by a wave of nostalgia, remembering the geography lessons she'd taken only a few years ago. Before her father's murder, before Cersei's reign, before she had become the savior of an entire world.

Jon shook his head as they stood before a map that could have served as a tablecloth, the names of cities and villages marked in precise script. Tyrion looked at the Red Priest.

"How are we to find him? You said your fires didn't work."

Aldma nodded.

"He is hidden from the flames of R'hllor, but we have learned enough from witnesses that we can make a good guess of his location."

Tyrion looked intrigued. He would have thought the priests' response to magic failing would be to use more magic.

"Really? How so?"

"You heard what the commander of the Golden Company had to say?"

"Something about going through hell to move faster?"

"Precisely. That hell is the abode of the invader's vile gods."

The Red Priest moved his staff to his other hand.

"The commander said they were attacked during the voyage. This means that he does not stay there permanently, and only goes into it from time to time in order to move fast or strike unexpectedly."

Jon started and furrowed his brow as he tried to remember.

"When he showed up at Winterfell... He said... he said something about the trip taking longer than expected, that he'd brought his own supplies but had less than he expected, or something."

Aldma looked at Jon with interest.

"That is helpful. You do not remember more?"

"No. He'd interrupted Jaime's trial, we just wanted to get rid of him."

Grey Worm frowned at the implications.

"Then he cannot resupply there?"

Aldma nodded.

"Yes. He must have a home base on this world, I'm sure of it. It cannot be too far from Westeros itself or he would lose too many men to the demons."

Arya looked doubtful.

"But... doesn't he work for them? Why would they attack him?"

Aldma shook his head.

"His gods are cruel, and will happily torment their own believers for their own twisted amusement, even at the cost of their own success."

Tyrion nodded. That certainly sounded like the kind of gods the Wolf would serve. In fact it sounded like most gods he knew of, though he did not say this out loud.

Beric looked thoughtful.

"That's still a lot of coastline that could serve him. Even in Blackwater Bay alone there's plenty of places to hide."

"But does he even need water?"

They looked at Arya.

"His ship flies. Why would he need to land in water if it can emerge midair wherever he wants to?"

Jon nodded.

"There was no water near the hill where we found Ramsay's body."

Grey Worm looked at the map. From King's Landing to Pentos, dragging several cogs...

"It may fly, but the ships it leads through this hell do not. He must be on water to let them emerge without damage."

Beric nodded.

"Makes sense."

Tyrion looked sharply at Jon.

"Those missing tribes, were they near rivers?"

Jon was taken aback.

"Tormund didn't mention it."

Jon looked doubtful.

"But if Euron's fleet is working for him, it can't be a river. Has to be a coast somewhere."

"Doesn't narrow it down much... but Yara should be able to help look for them."

Beric looked at Tyrion.

"What of the Redwyne?"

Tyrion shook his head.

"We'll have to convince them first, and that won't be easy. Every lordling there now fancies himself the new master of the Reach, and even if Bran outright named one he'd have the others against him. Truth be told, it's starting to slow down the grain shipments."

Jon nodded.

"Bran's been considering threatening to make Tyrion Lord Paramount of the Reach, just to make them agree on something."

Tyrion smiled wryly. That particular discussion would remain in his mind for some time.

"You can imagine what they think of Lannisters there."

Arya spoke up.

"You don't think the Wolf could be behind it?"

A chill descended over the table.

"Pitting them against each other?"

"We know he was helping Cersei and Daenerys. Why wouldn't he take a hand in making sure the Reach is at war with itself?"

"But for what purpose? If they're fighting each other, they can't fight him."

Tyrion shook his head.

"No, I don't think the Reachmen needed any outside help to fight with each other. I don't think we'll find him there."

Jon looked at the Blackwater.

"Wherever he's hiding, it has to be well out of the way or we'd have heard of him by now. If the rest of his crew are as mad as the ones at the siege, they're probably slaughtering entire... villages..."

Tyrion and Jon shared a look.

"The Wildling tribes?"

"Probably showed up telling them to join or die."

"The Iron Fleet, the Wildlings, the Dothraki even..."

Tyrion shook his head.

"Daenerys was angry at how easily they obeyed him. He might well recruit half the continent by promising blood, loot, and glory."

Grey Worm frowned.

"But where can he keep them? He wanted the armies of all the kingdoms to do battle with him. His men are strong, but even a single army could crush them with numbers alone."

Jon shook his head.

"Not if he's behind good thick walls somewhere. If he can cross walls and picket lines with impunity a siege will be a lot easier for him. And he said... he said Missandei was behind lock and key. He may have found a ruined keep or manor house and taken it over."

Arya looked at the Red Priest.

"What else do we have?"

Aldma had looked impatient for some time.

"We know that symbols play a great role in their religion. Certain animals, acts, and even numbers are sacred to his foul gods. His hiding-place likely has some connection with these, for use in his barbaric rituals."

They could guess the kind of animal the barbarian's gods would hold in high esteem. A shame it was the emblem of House Stark.

"What kind of acts? If beheading and disemboweling is how he makes his gods notice him..."

Tyrion snapped his fingers.

"That's why he needs the Throne. He said it'd seen and caused a lot of death and strife, and so it was a powerful artifact. He said the same about the crossbow that..."

His voice trailed off, then he took a deep breath.

"That I used to kill my father."

Arya nodded.

"He'd kept the knife I'd given him to kill Littlefinger. The same knife Littlefinger held to my father's throat, and that I used to kill the Night King."

Aldma looked warily at Arya.

"But he still has it?"

"No. I took it back. I'm not sure he knows that."

Jon snorted.

"He doesn't even know you killed him. He still thinks the Night King was shattered by his hand, and that's why he couldn't get its head."

"Does he? Hm."

Aldma looked thoughtful. Arya spoke next.

"Can we use that against him?"

"Perhaps... it is too early to tell. But there may be a connection of some kind."

Beric looked at the map.

"So. We need someplace that's close to Dragonstone and King's Landing, and further away from Winterfell, but isolated enough that he hasn't been discovered yet. Defensible enough that he can face the armies of Westeros on a fair footing. A shore close by. And the site of several wars or atrocities, probably."

Silence fell as each looked at the map, scouring the coastlines for anyplace that looked isolated enough to hide the barbarian and his crew of murderers. Arya looked deep in thought, then gasped as the solution presented itself to her. Wordlessly she took out her dagger and planted it in the table.

Tyrion looked at it, as did Jon and Beric.

"Yes, of course!"

"Has to be."

Grey Worm and the Red Priest looked confused.

"What is it?"

Arya pointed at her dagger, planted in an icon of the monstrous castle on the shores of the colossal lake at the heart of Westeros.

"He's in Harrenhal."