The waters around Fair Isle were a beautiful gray-green. Waves slapped against the sturdy hull of the Fury, sending up icy spray.
The Royal Fleet and House Redwyne's fleet from the Arbor joined together, their sails thick as a forest as they slowly advanced along the coast of the Westerlands beneath a clear sky.
Stannis Baratheon stood at the bow. The sea wind stirred his cloak, and his sparse black hair clung to his scalp like the shadow of a faded crown.
At that moment, he was not looking at the sea. His gaze seemed to pierce the layers of mist settling over the water and fall upon Harrenhal.
Stannis Baratheon spoke, his voice hoarse and grating. "The Tourney at Harrenhal."
"My brother's head is full of wine and foolishness."
He did not turn around, but he knew that Ser Davos Seaworth stood behind him, as always.
Ser Davos Seaworth's voice rose gently. "The king may be trying to inspire people, Lord Stannis."
Stannis Baratheon gave a short snort. He did not smile, but it was almost a sneer. "Inspire people?"
"The war isn't over, the Ironborn fleet is still prowling the seas, and he's already holding feasts for fools and jesters."
"Is that what a king should do?"
He turned around. His blue eyes, deep-set in their sockets, were like two fathomless seas.
"He should be on the front lines, or in King's Landing, not chasing whores' skirts amid the ruins of Harrenhal."
Davos Seaworth fell silent for a moment.
He knew that no kind words about Robert Baratheon would do any good with Stannis Baratheon.
The king's brother believed only in duty, law, and ironclad order.
Davos Seaworth carefully changed the subject. "The letter also mentioned that the Ironborn were defeated by a young man named Suleiman."
At