Immediately, Lord Jason, upon hearing the counsel, gritted his teeth and did not respond. But he would never admit that this was his mistake. All he wanted was victory; the word "defeat" was not in his dictionary.
The lord watched as his infantry fought bloody battles with the northerners. And these northerners were already like madmen, completely ignoring their own lives, trading their cheap lives for his elite lives. This made Jason's heart bleed... These were elites the Westerlands had trained for years. The Westerlands soldiers were well-trained, disciplined, and worked together in silence, but facing this mad assault, their formation began to weaken, gaps appearing.
The lord roared, "Second wave! Cross the river now! Support them!"
The Lannister horn sounded again.
Waaaah!
The second group of Westerlands infantry began to cross the river. Another fifteen hundred men—the same elites, the same neat ranks, the same gleaming armor. They entered the river and advanced.
In the middle of the river, the fighting continued. The river was already stained red; corpses were everywhere, severed limbs and broken hands everywhere. Cries, roars, and the clash of weapons; the river flowed downstream, carrying blood and bodies.
A young knight of the Westerlands wielded a longsword and cut down three northerners in a row. His armor was splattered with blood, his eyes burning with fighting spirit. He cried out as he chopped, "Come on! Come on!"
A northerner ran up and was cut down by him. Another ran up and was also cut down. Third, fourth...
The fifth northerner rushed before him, took no weapon, and simply lunged at him and embraced him. The northerner was covered in blood; his body had seven or eight cuts, a deep wound in his chest, the bones visible within. But his arms were like iron pincers, tightly gripping the knight.
The knight struggled, hacking at the northerner's back with his sword—once, twice, three times—but he would not let go. The northerner raised his head and smiled, showing bloodstained teeth.
"Western dog! Die together!"
Then he bit the knight's neck. The knight screamed, and they fell into the river together, sinking into the water. A trail of bubbles rose on the surface, and then nothing remained.
At that moment, a northerner picked up a stone from the river and smashed it against another Lannister soldier's head. Once, twice, three times. The soldier's head was crushed; red and white spilled across the ground and mixed with the river.
Some of the Westerlands infantry in the first row had already begun to turn and try to flee, but were caught by northerners from behind and struck in the back with axes. A soldier plunged into the river and struggled to rise, but a northerner cut his leg with another axe. He screamed and did not get up again.
"Run!" the northerners roared at the fleeing Western soldiers. "Run! Let you run! Weren't you having fun chasing? Three days of chasing, four battles—wasn't that amazing? Come on! Come on!"
---
However, the second wave of Westerlands infantry finally arrived. Fifteen hundred men joined the battle, and the tide immediately began to turn. They came like a tide, overwhelming the northerners.
The northerners began to retreat. They fought and fell back, retreating to the eastern bank of the river and toward the edge of the forest. They left corpses everywhere, blood in the river, but they still fought, still struggled, still despaired.
Lord Jason's eyes lit up, and he shouted, "Chase! Don't let them escape! Third wave—everyone cross the river! I will lead the charge myself!"
Lafford was shocked. "My lord! No, you can't! You can't go in person! You are the commander!"
"What's wrong with being the commander?" Jason pushed him aside. "The commander should be in the front! Let the soldiers see that their lord is not a coward who hides and gives orders!"
Lord Jason had already ridden into the river. "Hear me roar! Soldiers! Kill all these wolf cubs!"
The Westerlands soldiers behind him saw the lord personally attack, and their morale rose. The Lannister army cried out and followed Jason into the river, charging toward the other side.
"For the Lannisters!" "To the West!" "Kill all these northern savages!"
Thousands of men simultaneously rushed into the river; the river was churned to a boil. Water splashed; cries shook the sky; the golden banners flapped in the wind.
Jason pressed forward, charging ahead. The river rose above his horse's legs, past its belly, up to its knees. Because there were many people ahead, his warhorse neighed and refused to go forward.
Lord Jason's sword was raised high.
"Kill!" he roared.
On the other side, the northerners were still retreating. They retreated to the riverbank, to the water's edge, about to retreat into the forest.
Jason caught up, dismounted, waded knee-deep into the river, and personally led the charge to the shore. He roared as he ran, "Chase! Don't let them escape!"
The Westerlands soldiers followed him, rushed to the river beach, and pursued the retreating northerners.
---
At that moment, a horn sounded again from the forest.
A sense of foreboding rose in Jason's heart.
Then he saw countless men pouring out of the forest. The men were dressed in green, blending with the forest. Their banner was a silver trout on a blue field—the sigil of House Tully. There was also the sigil of House Blackwood. And others—the Twins of Frey, and other Riverlands sigils.
The main force of the Riverlands! They are here too!
Jason's heart tightened.
There were too many of them. A black mass pouring out of the forest like a tide. At least five or six thousand, perhaps more. They cried out and rushed toward them; their spears were like a forest, their swords like snow.
Lord Jason knew that no matter what, he could not retreat at this moment.
"Reform! Meet the enemy! Shield wall! Spears!"
The Westerlands soldiers quickly formed their formations. Though they had just come out of the cold river, soaked through, their hands and feet trembling, they quickly formed up. They raised shields and spears, forming a line of steel.
The Riverlands army rushed toward them.
The first wave was the infantry of House Tully. They wore half-armor, carried spears, and rushed toward them, crying out.
"For glory! For the Riverlands! Kill all these Westerlands invaders!"
The two armies collided with a deafening crash.
Spears pierced shields, swords cut into armor, blood sprayed, cries rose.
Jason swung his sword and cut through the crowd. He killed three Riverlands soldiers in a row. One sword cut through a soldier's spear, another cut his neck; blood sprayed and splattered Jason's face. Another sword pierced another soldier's chest, the tip protruding from his back. Another sword cut a third soldier's face, slicing off half of it.
"Come on!" the lord roared. "Who else?"
A Riverlands knight charged at him, mounted on horseback, a spear in hand. Jason dodged and struck the horse's leg with his sword. The horse screamed and fell to the ground, throwing the knight off. Jason stepped forward and ran his sword through the knight's throat.
"The lord is brave!" the Westerlands soldiers cheered.
But the cheers were quickly drowned out.
The second wave of the Riverlands army surged over them.
---
On the western bank of the river, Lafford asked the commander of the archers, who was sweating.
"Can you shoot?"
"Three hundred paces—that's far, my lord... Even if we can shoot, most arrows will hit our own men in the back..."
Lafford knew that the lord had fallen into an ambush. He wished the lion would wake up and retreat quickly.