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"Die!"
After killing Amory, the berserk Beric charged toward the other Lannister riders in an unstoppable state.
From how he kept avoiding Brotherhood members, it could be seen that even in this terrifying berserk state, he still retained some reason. As for how much reason remained, only he knew.
The berserk Beric's attacks were brutal. The Lannister riders who died under his hands were basically left without whole bodies.
Perhaps because it had been constantly scorched by high flames, when Beric's flaming sword collided with another Lannister rider's blade, it snapped outright.
Beric froze slightly. Then he simply threw away both swords, struck like lightning, seized the rider by the throat, grabbed the man's head with his other hand, and pulled hard.
Rip!
A head still attached to a bloody spine was torn off alive. Everyone around him, enemies and allies alike, looked over and instinctively moved away from the berserk Beric.
At first, the battle had been nearly deadlocked. But after Beric went berserk, it ended quickly.
The dozen or so remaining Lannister riders were frightened by his brutality. They threw down their weapons and knelt in surrender.
"Beric?"
After a hard fight, Thoros, covered in blood and still holding his burning sword, came to Beric's side and asked in disbelief.
Huff, huff!
The berserk Beric did not answer. He only breathed heavily. The thick red-snake-like veins on his body kept writhing, and their movement seemed to grow faster.
"Who are you people? What is he? And I heard your prayer. Do you know the red witch beside Stannis Baratheon?"
Brienne had approached at some unknown point. Her right hand rested on her sword hilt as she looked at the panting, berserk Beric and questioned Thoros.
"He is the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners, Beric the Lightning Lord. My name is Thoros. House Lannister plunders and murders in the Riverlands, and we have gathered Riverlands commoners to resist.
"As for your last question, I do not know what you are talking about."
Thoros kept both eyes fixed on Beric, worry in his eyes. He answered Brienne without turning back.
Pfft... hiss!
Brienne opened her mouth and was about to ask again when a series of muffled sounds suddenly came from Beric's body. Dozens of fine streams of blood mist sprayed from him.
Beric's entire body was like a high-pressure cauldron spraying bloody steam from everywhere.
The body that had become sturdy and swollen after he went berserk visibly shrank as the blood mist sprayed out. In the end, Beric became a mummy-like dried corpse and fell to the ground.
Because he was so close, Thoros was drenched in Beric's blood mist. The moment he saw Beric fall, he threw himself beside him, touched the corpse, and prayed loudly, "My Lord of Light, let your light shine upon this man..."
Tap, tap, tap!
Brienne, also sprayed head to toe with blood mist because she had been unprepared, watched Thoros hurry through what looked like funeral rites for a man who was clearly dead beyond death.
She shook her head and was about to comfort Thoros when she heard hooves behind her.
It turned out that the Lannister grain convoy in the distance had seen their riders attacked and had abandoned the wagons to come reinforce them.
But the distance had been quite far, and the latter half of the battle had ended swiftly. They were only now rushing over.
"Hey, do not hold the funeral yet. There are still enemies!"
Brienne looked at the approaching Lannister soldiers and warned Thoros.
But Thoros ignored her and focused on chanting the prayer. The Brotherhood members around them, who were used to being commanded, had lost their leader and now looked lost, unsure what to do.
The Lannister soldiers had wantonly slaughtered in the Riverlands. They had just dragged and tortured prisoners for sport. Moreover, they had also once been Renly's enemies.
Brienne sighed inwardly, drew the sword at her waist, and ordered the Brotherhood members, "Kill those dozen Lannister prisoners first. We do not have time to watch them.
"Then bring a few horses over and put them in front of us. Those with shields stand at the front. Everyone else stand behind them.
"Do not think of running. After they kill all of us, they will still have plenty of time to chase you on horseback."
"Ho ho! A fine arrangement. Do as she says. No need to be too nervous, everyone. We will surely keep winning.
"After all, my Lord of Light has always blessed us, has he not?"
Brienne had just hastily arranged simple countermeasures when a voice that should have been impossible sounded behind her.
She stiffly turned and looked behind her. Thoros was sitting on the ground in relief, wiping blood and sweat from his forehead.
Beside him, the dried corpse had recovered as if mysterious power had filled it with air again. The resurrected Beric sat up and smiled at her.
Beric had not completely recovered. He had changed slightly.
Raised, twisted veins spread across both of Beric's cheeks. After one looked long enough, there was even a strange beauty to them.
Tap, tap, tap!
Brienne had seen enough strange things today. She forced down her shock and confusion, turned around, gripped her sword tightly, and quietly waited for the Lannister riders who were charging closer and closer.
In Riverrun's main keep, inside a bright, spacious council hall covered with trout sigils, Robb was discussing the situation with all the northern and Riverlands lords.
The hall was as noisy as a market. All kinds of loud voices argued without yielding to one another.
On the northern side, the main voices were Lord Harris, Lord Macey, and the confident, booming Greatjon.
On the Riverlands side, the main voices were Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge, Lord Raymun Darry of Darry, and Lord Karyl Vance, newly confirmed after his father died outside the Golden Tooth.
"Clap, clap. Enough, my lords. Please quiet down!"
Robb had allowed them to speak bravely and freely, but the noise gave him a headache. He clapped hard and brought the arguing to a stop.
"I understand what all of you wish to express. There are three points of dispute.
"First, how we should fight the Westerlands army next. Second, when we should send troops to help you retake your castles and lands. Third, whether Uncle Edmure has survived. If he has, whether we rescue him, exchange for him, or ransom him."
Seeing them quiet down, Robb slowly rose from the main seat and summarized the three points of dispute for all the lords and nobles who supported him.
The first and second points were what the northern lords and Riverlands lords argued about most fiercely.
The northern lords had gained enormous wealth, weapons, armor, and people during this southern campaign.
They had also won battle after battle. Apart from the heavy losses at Casterly Rock, the other victories had all been easy under Robb's planning.
Now their morale was high, and their desire to attack was fierce. From the start of the meeting, they had suggested using the army's high spirits to strike first, test the strength of the Westerlands army, and then decide on further plans.
The Riverlands lords strongly suggested helping them retake their lost lands first. After that, they could hold their castles, summon new recruits, and train them.
The Riverlands had been ravaged by the Westerlands army for several months, and the smallfolk killed by them numbered in the thousands. But unlike the North, the Riverlands had a dense population. In Robb's previous life, the Westerlands army had ravaged the Riverlands for two or three years.
At this stage, many commoners were still hiding from the war, and some remote villages were still living normally. So as long as these familiar Riverlands lords raised their banners, they could certainly summon many troops.
Moreover, the Westerlands army had a large population, insufficient grain supplies, and was constantly harassed by many Riverlands minor noble forces and the Brotherhood Without Banners. Over time, they could not afford the drain.
The Riverlands lords' suggestion boiled down to this: wait until their side had enough troops and the enemy's morale was unstable, then strike with all their strength and defeat the Westerlands army in one blow.
Both sides made reasonable points. But both also stood in their own positions and considered matters somewhat narrowly.
Robb pondered briefly, sorted his words in his mind, and spoke loudly.
"First, given the situation, my judgment is that Tywin's army will neither advance nor retreat."
"Now that our line has connected into one whole, if Tywin dares besiege Riverrun again, then whether we start from the Twins and march south along the kingsroad toward the crownlands, or sail from Seagard toward the Westerlands, we can directly threaten him.
"But if he withdraws and abandons the Riverlands front, returning to the Westerlands or the crownlands, then without his restraint, we will be free to strike wherever we wish. That will threaten him even more."
Inside the council hall, all the lords were older than Robb. Yet now, they listened quietly like obedient students as this young king spoke with confidence.
Robb placed his right index finger on the strategic map spread across the long table and drew a horizontal line.
"Tywin will certainly garrison Harrenhal and join with the Vale to block the kingsroad south.
"At the same time, he will seal all major and minor roads from the Golden Tooth to the Gods Eye, keeping us firmly outside this defensive line."
"And at present, we have only a little over thirty thousand troops, far fewer than the combined Westerlands and Vale. A rash attack would be too risky. Therefore, for the short term, we will not fight a large-scale battle with the Westerlands army.
"The next phase of the war will enter a stalemate."
"If the war develops as I predict, then I will accept Lord Jonos's suggestion. We will begin sending troops to retake Riverlands castles and lands north of this defensive line, recruit new soldiers, and train them."
"Now, regarding the first and second points of dispute, do my lords have any further questions or suggestions?"
Looking at Robb's expression, as if everything was already under his control, all the lords present glanced at one another and immediately praised his wisdom with various flattering words.
"Good. Since everyone agrees, Smalljon, Edd, take more scout riders and watch Tywin's army closely for me."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Smalljon and Edd heard the order, rose from their seats, and saluted Robb.
"Finally, there is the matter of Uncle Edmure. As the only heir to Riverrun, his importance needs no explanation. As long as he still lives, we will pay any price to return him to Riverrun.
"Which lord is willing to go as envoy and discuss the matter with Tywin?"
Seeing his two trusted subordinates accept the order, Robb raised the last point.
But after he finished, his gaze swept over the many Riverlands lords. Those same lords who had been strongly suggesting that Edmure must be brought back no matter what either turned their heads to avoid Robb's eyes or lowered their heads to look at the floor.
"Your Grace, I am willing!"
A clear voice came from the far side of the council hall. Robb looked up and saw Patrek Mallister, who had been standing silently behind Lord Jason of Seagard, step forward and repeat his words.
Patrek and Edmure were both close friends and, in a sense, lord and vassal. Having long been taught courage by his father, he bravely stood out.
Lord Jason's expression did not change as he watched his son take on the task of envoy.
"Very good, Patrek. Then I will trouble you this time. If Uncle Edmure still lives, the prisoners we can exchange include Lord Leo Lefford of the Golden Tooth, along with six or seven Lannisters brought back from Casterly Rock, both main line and collateral branches.
"If Tywin insists on refusing the exchange, or if he disregards noble dignity and detains you, do not worry. I promise I will personally lead the army to rescue you."
"Thank you, Your Grace. I will do everything I can to complete this task!"
The moment Robb finished, Patrek nodded, both moved and excited.
"Mm. Good. I trust you.
"Our army cannot all fit within Riverrun, and most soldiers are camped outside the city.
"My lords, restrain your men. Otherwise, do not blame military law for being merciless.
"Once the scouts learn Tywin's movements, be ready to fight and retake lost lands at any time!"
"Yes!"
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"Rest assured, Your Grace. We will restrain them!"
Seeing Robb emphasize military law and discipline again, the northern lords, who had deeply experienced it, immediately answered loudly. The Riverlands lords looked indifferent, but by now Riverrun did not have many soldiers left under them anyway.
Creak!
"Your Grace, a raven letter from Winterfell."
As the meeting was about to end, an aged, white-haired maester pushed open the door and spoke to Robb.
"Then that will be all for today. Gendry, bring me the letter from Maester Vyman."
Robb loudly declared the meeting over and had Gendry, who was faithfully serving as his squire, take the letter from Maester Vyman.
All the lords rose, saluted, and withdrew. Robb received the raven letter and opened it. As his eyes swept over the contents, his expression grew darker and darker.
"Your Grace, has something happened at Winterfell?"
When all the northern lords had left the council hall, Gendry, now increasingly familiar with Robb, saw his expression and asked carefully.
"A miracle has happened in the North. The heart trees we quietly killed have come back to life and grown even more lush.
"And... my brother Brandon Stark has disappeared from Winterfell."
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