The waters of the Trident flowed like blood, countless bodies of the fallen drifting along the river.
Lymond Lychester watched the blood-soaked battlefield, littered with corpses, his fingers trembling slightly.
He turned to Suleiman beside him, his voice hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and worry. "Suleiman, our casualties are far too severe...
"This army can't fight anymore...
Suleiman's gaze shifted from the bodies floating on the river to the old man. He looked at him calmly. "When word of this victory spreads across the Riverlands, manpower will be the last thing you need to worry about."
His tone was mild, as though he had already foreseen everything.
"The vultures and wild dogs will smell the blood and come, hoping to claim their share of the flesh."
Raymun Darry rode closer. The carnage had shocked him as well, and now his face wore a hint of bewilderment.
He pointed toward the mass of Ironborn kneeling by the bridge, stripped of their armor and weapons. "6
What are we going to do with these prisoners?"
"More than a thousand Ironborn threw down their swords and surrendered to us."
Maron Greyjoy's eyes lit up at once. He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Suleiman! Give them to me! I can make them swear to serve me. They'll become my most loyal men!"
Suleiman ignored him and simply gestured. "Bring him forward."
Two knights roughly shoved a tall Ironborn prisoner forward. Though bound, he held his back straight.
The tall Ironborn called out, his voice echoing across the silent riverbank. "I am the leader of Old Wyk! Dennis Drumm, son of Dunstan Drumm!"
"I demand that Lord Lymond Lychester of the Riverlands grant us warriors who fought bravely before surrendering the honors due to prisoners!"
Pinned down by the two knights, Dennis Drumm showed no fear.