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Rumble!
Strong, muscular hooves struck the surface of the high road, raising a cloud of dust that filled the sky.
Thousands of front-line Vale riders leveled the steel lances gripped in their hands. Beneath the lance tips flew banners of blue and white, bearing the sigil of a falcon soaring over a moon, fluttering constantly in the wind of the charge.
The five thousand Riverrun cavalry led by Edmure had only been meant to harass the Westerlands army. They had never expected a head-on clash.
Because of that, they had not even brought lances. Aside from food and water, their horses carried only swords and bows.
The two sides were already close, and the Vale cavalry had fully begun their charge. Their speed was terrifying. Riverrun's cavalry had no time to draw bows and loose a volley.
Edmure made his judgment in an instant. He drew his sword, pointed it at the Vale cavalry ahead, and shouted the order through gritted teeth.
"Charge!"
Charge!
The Riverrun cavalry understood their situation as well. They drew their swords, raised them above their heads in their right hands, pointed the tips toward the enemy, and shouted together.
Tap, tap, tap!
Rip!
As the two forces closed, the instant they collided, countless sounds immediately tangled together across the battlefield.
An inch longer, an inch stronger. The Vale riders in the front line drove their steel lances straight through the bodies of many Riverrun cavalrymen.
The front rank of Riverrun cavalry fell like wheat before a scythe, screaming as they toppled from their horses in swaths.
Rip!
A small number of Riverrun soldiers avoided the lance thrusts. When they closed with the Vale riders, before the enemy could throw away their lances and draw swords, they slashed their blades across exposed necks.
Blood blossomed across the battlefield, marking the true beginning of a cruel cavalry clash.
When two forces of cavalry charged, both riders and horses instinctively tried to avoid enemies coming straight at them.
But in a tight mass charge, some riders inevitably crashed heavily into one another.
In a collision of strength and speed like that, neither side gained much. Horses that slammed together neighed mournfully and fell. Their riders were carried by the terrible inertia, screaming as they were thrown through the air into the enemy ranks.
The cavalrymen who fell like that were fortunate if they survived beneath ten thousand pounding hooves. Most were trampled into bloody ruin, impossible to recognize afterward.
Clang, clang, clang!
Once the two cavalry forces fully met and began true close combat, men constantly sprayed blood and fell from horseback.
Blood, corpses, and screams turned the battlefield into utter chaos.
But what was the decisive factor in a cavalry charge?
Was the formation suitable? Was the speed enough? Was the equipment fine?
Many cavalry commanders with real combat experience agreed that the most important factor was morale.
But cavalry morale did not appear from nothing. Aside from external factors like money, the most important internal factor affecting morale was the speed of the charge.
When men rode at such speed, fear and excitement blurred together, and the rush of battle swallowed caution.
In words ordinary people could understand, charging fast enough made men feel invincible, and once they felt invincible, they forgot danger.
Under such intense stimulation, cavalry naturally fought in high spirits, as if their blood had been set alight.
Riverrun's cavalry were surrounded on all sides, had not fully charged, and were less well equipped than the Vale cavalry in shining silver armor.
So after a brief period of close fighting, they were unsurprisingly pierced straight through by the Vale cavalry's wedge formation.
Once the Riverrun cavalry formation was split open, the Vale riders skillfully divided them and continued slaughtering them.
At first, Edmure, commanding from the rear, forced out orders and had the Riverrun cavalry struggle and fight. But once casualties reached a certain point, the rout became unstoppable.
Watching Riverrun cavalry scatter and flee while the Vale riders hunted them down, Edmure bit his lip hard and ordered the dozens of elite guards beside him, "The other three sides cannot be broken through. While it is chaotic here, follow me toward the Vale.
"Once we break out, we turn toward Saltpans. There is a port there. We can return to Riverrun by water."
"Yes, my lord!"
The dozens of guards fiercely loyal to Edmure answered together and protected him tightly as he broke forward.
Because thousands of Riverrun cavalry were fleeing, the battlefield was chaos. Edmure and his dozens of riders avoided the main body of Vale cavalry that was focused on dividing and slaughtering, breaking through wherever there were fewer men.
Before long, they had reached the rear of the Vale cavalry formation.
This group of riders moving against the flow finally drew the Vale cavalry's attention. Several hundred Vale riders separated from the formation and chased them.
"Haha, only now do they notice us. Too late!"
Edmure urged his horse forward swiftly while looking back at the enemy pursuers behind him, laughing with the joy of survival.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
As he looked back, he heard the sharp sound of arrows cutting through the air.
Dense arrows fell like rain across the space ahead of Edmure's several dozen riders. More than ten riders at the front were shot into pincushions together with their horses, screaming as they fell.
Seeing this, Edmure pulled the reins and slowly brought his horse to a stop, then looked forward.
In the distance ahead, Tyrion smiled on horseback, while Baelish sat nearby on another horse, thoughtful and unreadable.
Beside them stood five or six hundred archers with quivers at their waists. They had formed a fairly neat line, drawn fresh arrows, and aimed at Edmure and his remaining riders while waiting for the order.
"Surrender."
Edmure understood that the first volley had been a warning. He also knew that with his status, the enemy would never execute him. He threw down his sword and raised his hands in surrender.
The guards around him saw the lord they served surrender and all threw down their swords as well.
Tap, tap, tap!
The Vale cavalry behind them arrived swiftly and took Edmure and the others prisoner. The encirclement Tywin had arranged came to a perfect end.
"The mass charge of these Vale riders is truly formidable. Riverrun's cavalry were no match for them."
Kevan, who had reached the crossroads, saw the cavalry battle on the high road end quickly and sincerely praised it.
"House Arryn is, after all, an ancient Andal royal house. The Vale has a strong knightly tradition. It is only natural that their cavalry is formidable."
Hearing his younger brother behind him, Tywin answered without turning. Then he shook his head with some regret.
"This net I cast was meant to catch the Blackfish. I did not expect to catch a little trout."
"Lord Tywin, Edmure Tully has a noble status. He is Hoster Tully's only son and heir. Capturing him should be better than capturing the Blackfish Brynden."
Stevron, who understood House Tully well, inserted the comment at the right time.
"You do not understand. If this had been early in the war, catching this little trout might have taken Riverrun for us long ago. But now..."
"Enemy! Enemies on the river road!"
Just as Tywin began to explain, several thousand Westerlands infantry near the river road at the crossroads shouted a warning.
Tywin immediately turned toward the river road.
In the distance, at least several thousand cavalry clearly dressed as northmen had appeared. They stopped where they were, silently waiting for something.
The northern cavalry formation suddenly parted like waves, and a gray-furred giant wolf, visibly taller than the surrounding horses, stepped out with the leisurely bearing of a king inspecting his domain.
On its back sat a young king in brand-new armor, his body sturdy, his face expressionless as he stared at Tywin's army at the crossroads.
Beside the young king rode a young black-haired squire. In one hand he held a long-handled warhammer, and in the other he carried a two-handed greatsword wrapped in a black scabbard.
"Robb Stark!"
Without needing to think, Tywin immediately knew who the young man riding the giant wolf was. He said the name in a low, hateful tone.
"Tywin Lannister."
Likewise, Robb, riding Bloodwind, immediately locked his gaze on the old lion who stood out from the tens of thousands of Westerlands soldiers.
'The Vale has joined the war on the Westerlands side?'
After measuring Tywin with his eyes, Robb looked past him at the battlefield on the high road, where corpses lay everywhere. When he saw House Arryn's banner, his brow furrowed.
"Your Grace, the enemy has at least twenty thousand infantry and around ten thousand cavalry. The result on Lord Edmure's side is already obvious."
Lord Rickard, following behind Robb, knew he was not impulsive. Still, he fulfilled his duty and spoke to advise him.
"Lord Rickard is right."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Your Grace, please consider Lord Rickard's advice carefully!"
After Lord Rickard spoke, even Greatjon, who usually liked charging straight ahead, agreed. The other northern lords accompanying them voiced their support as well.
Awooo!
Feeling Robb's thoughts, Bloodwind lifted his enormous head and let out a huge wolf howl.
"How can that wolf be so enormous?"
"I hear Robb Stark has wolf blood too, and eats human flesh raw every day!"
"To command such a terrifying giant wolf, is he truly blessed by the gods?"
The Westerlands army, which had never seen Bloodwind before, was directly shaken by that terrifying wolf howl. Then discussions spread throughout the ranks.
"Lord Tywin, I am willing to lead these three thousand cavalry, join the Vale cavalry, and face Robb Stark together."
Stevron, eager to defeat the northern army and take back the Twins, gritted his teeth and requested the task.
"No need. He is showing me his power now.
"A man who can take Lannisport, Casterly Rock, and the Twins one after another will not charge up to die because of one relative."
Tywin's wise pale green eyes watched the distant man and wolf as he denied Stevron's request.
Just as Tywin predicted, when the penetrating wolf howl ended, the northern cavalry all turned their horses and began to leave.
Robb was the last to ride away on Bloodwind. His eyes seemed to pierce the great distance and meet Tywin's at the crossroads, carrying the meaning in his heart.
'The next time we meet, only one of us will live.'
Without Addam's cavalry, the Westerlands army could not keep the northern cavalry there and could only watch them leave. The Vale cavalry, the only force strong enough to fight them, was still cleaning up the aftermath.
Of the more than five thousand Riverrun cavalry, over three thousand were dead or wounded. Nearly two thousand surviving riders mostly disarmed and surrendered in place. A few tried to flee on horseback, only to be trapped firmly within the spiderweb encirclement.
"Father!"
"Lord Tywin!"
After a while, Tyrion and Baelish rode to the crossroads and greeted Tywin together.
"Mm. Lord Baelish, this time you persuaded the Vale to release Tyrion and send troops to join the war. Your merit is considerable.
"It happens that I have already driven House Whent of Harrenhal out. Perhaps you will become the Lord of Harrenhal."
Hearing their greetings, Tywin nodded. He ignored Tyrion and first spoke to Baelish.
"I thank Lord Tywin for his generosity. I will offer all my loyalty and serve House Lannister well."
Baelish, who controlled the kingdom's finances but still had low birth, showed a smile from the heart. Sitting on his horse, he bowed to Tywin and answered.
"Mm. I will write to King Joffrey later and state my recommendation."
Tywin was satisfied with Baelish's humble attitude. He nodded and turned to his youngest son.
"Good. This time you have managed not to die again. Where is the little trout?"
"Managed not to die again? Heh. Forgive me for disappointing you."
Tyrion murmured Tywin's words, gave a self-mocking laugh, then shouted behind him, "Bronn, bring our noble Lord Edmure over."
"Yes!"
With that answer, a black-haired, black-eyed sellsword with a faint crooked smile and a stubbled face rode forward. Bound and laid sideways before him was Edmure.
"Tyrion!"
Seeing Edmure brought over by Bronn, Tywin frowned and called Tyrion's name in a tone slightly higher than usual.
"I am here, Father. What are your orders?"
"I have always thought you useless except for your mind. Now have you gone stupid after being locked in the Eyrie? To treat Lord Edmure this way? To treat a noble of high birth this way?"
Tywin showed no regard for Tyrion's face before the crowd and scolded him loudly.
"Yes, Father. I was not thoughtful enough."
Tyrion's face flushed red, then pale, as he suppressed his anger and ordered Bronn,
"Bronn, set our noble lord down gently and untie him."
Bronn nodded and followed the instruction, setting Edmure down and unbinding him.
"Lord Edmure, I apologize for my son's rudeness. Even as a prisoner, you should receive the dignity due a noble."
"Thank you, Lord Tywin. You are truly a noble of great courtesy."
After being untied, Edmure moved his wrists and shoulders and answered Tywin politely.
"I think we can speak about how to end the war between the Riverlands and the Westerlands and share peace."
"Open the gate!"
With the order given, Riverrun's western gate slowly lowered. Robb rode Bloodwind in, leading the northern lords and his personal guards.
"Robb... Your Grace, how is Edmure?"
As soon as Robb's party entered Riverrun's yard, Brynden hurried down the stone stairway from the wall and asked anxiously.
"We arrived too late. More than twenty thousand Westerlands soldiers, plus at least seven or eight thousand Vale cavalry, surrounded them outright.
"Not a single Riverrun rider escaped. Uncle Edmure... I do not know now whether he is dead or alive."
Robb jumped down from Bloodwind after the wolf crouched to the ground. With a grave expression, he shook his head and stated directly what he had seen.
"Sigh. I should have stopped him with all my strength when he led men out. And I did not think carefully enough. In that situation, how could you have ordered Riverrun to send men to hold up Tywin's Westerlands army?
"In any case, this was my fault."
Hearing Robb say that Edmure's fate was unknown, Brynden seemed to deflate. He lowered his head and murmured, blaming himself.
"Great-uncle, this is not your fault. Uncle Edmure used my name falsely to attack. There was nothing you could do to stop him.
"Do not worry. With Riverrun's elite guards protecting him, if he saw the right moment to surrender, his life should not be in danger.
"After all, he is not someone who would fight to the end."
Robb rationally comforted Brynden. Based on his understanding of Edmure, the young lord had likely chosen to surrender once he saw the situation was hopeless.
"Mm. I hope so. Come, I will take you to see your grandfather."
Brynden nodded, gathered himself, and spoke to Robb.
"Very well. Then I will trouble you to lead the way, great-uncle."
Robb nodded, and Brynden walked quickly ahead, leading him toward Riverrun's main keep.
Because Riverrun had been built on a triangular stretch of land between rivers, the lord's chamber in the inner castle was also triangular. Through a spiral stair, Robb and Brynden reached the lord's chamber and saw Lord Hoster Tully.
Lord Hoster lay on the feather bed in the room. His face was aged and thin. The auburn hair of his youth had turned entirely silver-white, and his blue eyes were dull and empty as they stared blankly at the ceiling.
Several servants and guards stood at his bedside, waiting for the occasional command.
"Brother, Robb has come to see you. Robb Stark, the son of Catelyn and Eddard."
Looking at Lord Hoster on the bed, Brynden sniffed painfully. In his heart, he would rather have his brother roar curses at him as he had in the past than see him like this now.
"Grandfather, I have returned to Riverrun. Say a few words to me."
After Brynden spoke and Lord Hoster showed no response, Robb also tried a few words.
He had no memory of Riverrun or of his grandfather.
Although Robb had been born in Riverrun, when Eddard returned victorious from the south after Robert's Rebellion and brought Catelyn and him back to Winterfell, he had still been an infant in swaddling clothes. How could he have any memory?
"Sigh. He has been like this since he fell ill. Sometimes clear, sometimes confused. Now he spends longer and longer confused. Forget it. Let us go."
Seeing Lord Hoster make no response, Brynden spoke to Robb.
"Mm."
"Bry... Brynden."
Just as Robb answered and was about to leave with Brynden, a weak call suddenly came from behind them.
"Brother, I am here. Are you clear again?"
Hearing the call, Brynden turned in surprise and hurried to the bedside, asking Lord Hoster.
"Mm."
"Brother, look. This is Robb, Catelyn's son."
Hearing Lord Hoster answer, Brynden immediately pulled Robb forward and explained.
"Robb... you look so much like Catelyn."
Hearing him, Lord Hoster slightly raised his spotted right hand toward Robb and spoke softly.
Robb immediately stepped forward and held his right hand, calling gently, "Grandfather, I have come to see you on Mother's behalf."
"Brother, Robb is now the King in the North. He has just led the northern army to take Lannisport, Casterly Rock, and the Twins, and broken House Lannister's siege of Riverrun.
"House Tully should now declare its position."
While his brother was clear, Brynden hurriedly stated his purpose.
"I... Hoster Tully of House Tully, Lord of Riverrun, Lord Paramount of the Trident and the Riverlands, pledge fealty to the King in the North.
"Cough, cough. And finally, after my death, my title will be inherited by my son, Edmure Tully.
"But the condition for his inheritance is continued loyalty to Robb Stark, King of the North and the Riverlands!"
As if he understood the state of his own body, Lord Hoster gathered all his strength after Brynden's reminder and spoke all of it in one breath.
The moment Lord Hoster finished, Brynden reacted first. He knelt on one knee before Robb and shouted, "Brynden Tully greets the King of the North and the Riverlands!"
The guards and servants in the lord's chamber heard Brynden's words and immediately reacted. They dropped to their knees with a thud and shouted together, "We greet the King of the North and the Riverlands!"
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