The Lymond Lychester at the bridgehead heard the horns sounding behind the Ironborn. They were Suleiman's horns. Tears streamed down his face. This battle had been far too cruel and agonizing for the soldiers. So many had died without even knowing how—crushed and suffocated, rather than falling bravely in battle.
Summoning every last ounce of strength, he raised his sword high and let out a hoarse roar. "Long live the Riverlands!"
"Counterattack!!!"
Roderick Greyjoy's death shattered every last illusion Goodbrother had clung to.
The thunderous clatter of charging warhorses grew closer and closer. An unstoppable force was bearing down on them, and the rumble was so deafening that Goodbrother could no longer hear anything.
His mind went blank. Only one thought remained: not where these Riverlands knights had come from, but that it was over. Completely over. The warriors who had gone onto the bridge could no longer retreat.
Sawane Botley's voice drifted up beside him, tinged with a sick sort of glee. "Captain Goodbrother, it seems you're about to become a laughingstock too."
His face had been gloomy and despondent ever since his son's death and the defeat. Now, though, an odd light came into his eyes. He glanced at the Riverlands knights who were about to bring destruction down upon them, his lips twitching with amusement as if he were discussing something trivial.
"My advice is that we leaders who still have horses turn around and flee at once."
"Before they reach us. We might still make it."
The cowardly words ignited Goodbrother's fury. He turned, bloodshot eyes glaring at Sawane Botley, his teeth grinding.
He roared, spittle spraying across Sawane Botley's face. "Get lost!"
"You coward, all you know how to do is run!"
"I, Goodbrother, will die alongside my warriors! Together, we'll go to the Drowned