(Couldn't have been done without [@MrDidact] and [@AtomicNut]. Thanks!)

William could see through the flimsy lies of the Stepstone drunkard's guild. Perhaps the Targaryens and Starks are gullible enough to actually accept this surrender joke, but he knew better. When the battle was over, he ran over to catch Visenya's attention.

"Get your twits in line," he growled, shooting a steely glare at one of the pirates. All he saw was a reflection of his own expression. "This isn't a peasant revolt. They won't 'see the light'. I think you'll find that they have been killing their whole lives, and today was just more of the same. Any commander with any brains at all would call for their execution, starting with blondie in the middle. Allow me to demonstrate." He tightened his grip on his sword and chose a near prisoner at random. "You! Best start praying."

Visenya caught Will's arm in a viselike grip before he could do anything and she said calmly, "I understand your concerns. I understand you are angry with these men for taking Arak. But your brother is safe now. And don't worry, I won't trust these cutthroats. But we made a vow. And we shall abide by it. Besides, they are mercenaries. They have no loyalty to anything but coin and their own lives. They are no diehard fanatics. Still all the same, that is why we will have our men watching them, ready to kill at the first sign of betrayal." She glared at one of the Maiden's Men with her steely violet eyes and the man looked away fearfully. 

"Aerion will make sure they behave. Now, can I let your arm go or are we going to need to talk further?" Visenya cooly waited for her friend to respond. 

"Every man set on watching for the inevitable is less fodder for the enemy bow," William spat. "Look at that one. I'll wager you a dragon he's got two knives in his boots, one for each of us, no matter how much we pay. Know that the less money we have in the reserves of the kingdom, the less we have on public works for the smallfolk to frolick in or whatever it is they do in their nonexistant spare time. That means more rebellion. We can't fight everyone forever. I should know." He chose not to reveal exactly what he knew about peasant rebellions. 

Visenya smiled minutely, "Perhaps you are right Will. They may have hidden weapons, I suppose the only thing to do is start checking. " She released his arm and said, "Better get them down to their smallclothes, just to be sure. Shall we begin?" She flashed him a mirthful glance. 

Seran eyed both left and right both nobles bickering, himself following at a tired pace. After all, even if it had been for the sake of theatrics, he had accepted to take a beating for the crown's plan, and he ached everywhere. Perhaps that is why his patience waned for the time being, huffing exasperation. "Not to mention that some people don't even need weapons to kill a man, Lord Bolton." He added, his headache making his inflection bitter. "To make sure we should break their bones and cut their tendons aswell." Seran added. "I think it'd be better if we count our blessing. The Stranger, as some say, doesn't accept the coin of mere mortals." 

William turned, angrily, to meet the new voice.

"I don't recall you being part of this conversation. Don't interrupt your betters, whitehead. Don't you have elderly captains to attend to?" he said, making a rude gesture with his free hand implying self-pleasure.

Visenya chuckled, "Peace Will. Seran here risked his life to save your brother. It would do you only good to show him some respect, even friendship. And it wouldn't kill you to say thank you either." 

"I prefer northmen lords like you, Lord Bolton. You're exceedingly attractive." Seran added, his patience reaching zero thanks to the dull pain, but he forced himself to make a kissy face, even with his bloated face. "That's why I could not help myself..." He added. "Jokes aside, if they cause problem, just give the word. I'll gladly gut them. They'd do the same to me if our roles were reversed." Seran said clenching his teeth "Vows and annointed knights be damned. If it gets us alive out of here, I'll do it." 

William said nothing, but the tingle in his hand let him know how tightly now he was gripping the handle of his sword. He mentally added a note to himself to not employ Essosi mercenaries for upwards of five years. Instead of retorting, like he usually would, he sheathed his sword and nodded to Seran. Then, he remembered the seemingly ever-present hand on his arm.

"You can let go of me now," he said, returning to his old self. "Courts across the kingdom might be abuzz of whispers if word gets out that a scion of the illustrious Targaryens can't keep her hands off of some lesser lord from the North."

Visenya scoffed, "I'm a bastard of King Robert, grand-daughter of the Mad King. Leader of a band of warriors. Rumors abound around me already. Now can I trust you two to act as allies should? To shake hands in friendship?" 

William chose not to offer his hand. Instead, he gently shoved Visenya's hand off of his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, I have a relative to scold," he said.