Suleiman's allied forces had been moving back and forth through the area for days.
If the dense forest hadn't muffled the sound of their march, leaving only the rustle of leaves and branches and the occasional calls of birds, beasts, and insects, the Ironborn would have discovered them long ago.
The mounted scouts rode out and returned tirelessly, like bees, covered in dust and weariness.
They brought back reports of chaos everywhere. Ironborn raiding parties were rampaging along the rivers, villages and fields had been reduced to ashes, but there was no sign of Balon Deddings, Raymun Darry, or Lord Tytos Blackwood. Those men seemed to have vanished without a trace.
There had been no word of them being captured, either. Refugees had also shared a rumor of uncertain truth: a few days ago, someone had claimed to see the banner of House Darry surrounded inside a castle, and Raymun Darry directing the defense.
Lymond Lychester stood beside Suleiman, studying the map dotted with the places where Ironborn had been sighted. He watched as the army passed up several opportunities to ambush small, isolated bands of Ironborn, letting chance after chance slip by, and gradually came to understand.
He had a rough idea of Suleiman's plan. Only after the great houses of the western Riverlands had bled their last beneath the Ironborn tide, only after those giants had fallen completely, would there be room on the Riverlands' political stage for House Lychester, the "newcomer" of the East Riverlands.
"But," Lymond said, his voice low and edged with urgency, "we've been here too long."
"We should return to the East Riverlands as soon as possible. We've kept our strength largely intact, and when the western Riverlands lie in ruins, the East will inevitably be stronger than the West."
He paused. It