Victarion Greyjoy listened to the distant roar of the crowd, his face so dark it seemed ready to drip with fury.
He waved his hand. His voice was hoarse. "Back to camp."
The Ironborn ranks began to withdraw slowly. The arrogance they'd brought with them was gone, replaced by an eerie, indescribable atmosphere.
When they reached the longship fleet's anchorage, Victarion Greyjoy tore off his helmet and hurled it to the ground.
Dunstan Drumm roared in savage fury. "How dare he treat my brother like that!"
"I'll kill him! I swear I'll kill him! I'll bury his head beneath the latrines at my family's castle!"
Alyn Oakheart, his face twisted with rage, shouted as well. "Madman! He's a raving lunatic!"
"Who does he think he is?! Aegon the Conqueror?! He dares threaten to wipe us out?!! Does he have dragons!!!"
"We should charge over there right now! Cut off his head! Let's see how he plans to wipe us out then!!!"
The Reader, Rodrik Harlaw, spoke coldly. "Charge over there?"
"With what? The Riverlanders are behind their fortifications! Do you think those Riverlanders in the camp across from us, shouting his name, are just wooden posts?!!"
"You want them to watch while you cut off his head?!!"
Dunstan Drumm's face was twisted with fury, his eyes bloodshot. "I don't care! I'll avenge my brother!"
He turned to Victarion Greyjoy and ground out each word through clenched teeth.
"Give the order! Launch the attack!! Lord Commander!!!"
"The warriors of House Drumm will gladly lead the charge!!!!"
Alyn Oakheart drew his sword. "We can't just sit here and listen to him curse us, The Reader Rodrik!!"
Everyone looked toward Victarion Greyjoy, Lord Commander of the Iron Fleet, waiting for his orders.
Victarion Greyjoy stood there, tall and broad, his arms folded across