Getting 'em good and scared would be the best way to get things done quick and easy. So Dogman tried to talk like someone to be feared, rather than someone who was shitting himself. Like Logen might've talked. Or maybe that was more fear than was needful. Like Threetrees, then. Tough but fair, wanting what was best for everyone.

'The headman among you?' he growled.

'I'm him,' croaked the old man with the sword, his face all slack with shock at finding a score of well-armed strangers standing in the middle of his town square. 'Brass is my name. Who the hell might you be?'

'I'm the Dogman, and this here is Harding Grim, and the big lad is Tul Duru Thunderhead.' Some eyes went wide, some folk muttered to each other. Seemed they'd heard the names before. 'We're here with five hundred Carls and last night we took your city off you.' A few gasps and squeals at that. It was closer to two hundred, but there was no point telling 'em so. They might've got the notion that fighting was a good idea and he'd no wish to end up stabbing a woman, or getting stabbed by one either. 'There's plenty more of us, round about, and your guards are all trussed up, those we didn't have to kill. Some o' my boys, and you ought to know I'm talking of Black Dow—'

'That's me.' Dow flashed his nasty grin, and a few folk shuffled fearfully away from him like they'd been told hell itself was sat there.

'… Well, they were for putting the torch straight to your houses and getting some killing done. Do things like we used to with the Bloody-Nine in charge, you take my meaning?' Some child in amongst the rest started to cry a bit, a wet kind of snuffling. The boy stared round him, cleaver wobbling in his hand, the dark-haired girl blinked and clung on tighter to her pitch-fork. They got the gist, alright. 'But I thought I'd give you a fair chance to give up, being as the town's full with womenfolk and children and all the rest. My score's with Bethod, not with you people. The Union want to use this place as a port, bring in men and supplies and whatever. They'll be here inside an hour, in their ships. A lot of 'em. It's happening with or without your say so. I guess my point is we can do this the bloody way, if that's the way you want it. The dead know we've had the practice. Or you can give up your weapons, if you've got 'em, and we can all get along, nice and… what's the word for it?'

'Civilised,' said Grim.

'Aye. Civilised. What d'you say?'

The old man fingered his sword, looking like he'd rather have leant on it than swung it, and he stared up at the walls, where a few of the Carls were looking down, and his shoulders slumped. 'Looks like you got us cold. The Dogman, eh? I always heard you was a clever bastard. No one much left here to fight you, anyway. Bethod took every man could hold a spear and a shield at once.' He looked round at the sorry crowd behind him. 'Will you leave the women be?'