With their superior equipment, Jason's cavalry was more than a match for the Westerlands infantry; it was a slaughter. Wherever they rode, no one could stand against them, and entire formations of Lannister soldiers broke and fled before them. At first, the young riders from Starfire City had been afraid, but that fear vanished the moment they entered the fray. They quickly discovered that enemy arrows bounced harmlessly off their advanced armor and that Lannister swords couldn't even dent their helmets. Their fear turned to exhilaration, and they fought with savage bravery.
"Run!"
"The northern cavalry is behind us!"
"We're finished! We've lost!"
Panic erupted in the Lannister rear. The infantry lines, once orderly and disciplined, shattered as if a beehive had been kicked over. Soldiers threw down their weapons and ran for their lives. The rout began when Jon Snow, having completely crushed the Lannister left flank, wheeled his cavalry around and slammed into the army's exposed rear. On an ancient battlefield, fear is a contagion. The sight of their comrades fleeing triggered a chain reaction, and the entire Lannister army collapsed into chaos.
The defeat was absolute. The Lannister lords screamed at their men to hold the line, but their orders were lost in the tide of terrified deserters. The air filled with the sounds of screaming, dying, and killing.
"We've won!"
"The Westermen are broken! Kill them all!"
Seeing the enemy collapse, the northern lords ordered a full pursuit. The Northmen, roaring in triumph, charged forward, cutting down the fleeing Lannisters like cornered rabbits.
From the walls of Riverrun, Edmure Tully's face was flushed with excitement. He ordered the gates thrown open, and with the river lords at his side, he led his garrison in a charge to join the chase.
"No!" Jaime Lannister watched in disbelief as his invincible army dissolved into a panicked mob. His handsome face, streaked with blood and grime, twisted into a hideous mask of rage.
"My lord, we have to run!" one of his guards pleaded, trying to pull his horse's reins. "We're beaten!"
But Jaime couldn't accept it. He couldn't accept being defeated by a green boy. Blinded by fury, he spurred his horse forward, rallying the few dozen guards still with him for one last, desperate charge at Robb Stark's banner. He would capture the boy and salvage this disaster.
But a rout is a rout. Despite his legendary valor, Jaime Lannister could not reverse the tide. In the end, his guards were cut down one by one until he stood alone, exhausted and surrounded. The northern lords swarmed him, and the Kingslayer was pulled from his horse and thrown to the ground.
The victory was total. With "the Kingslayer" Jaime Lannister in chains, the men of the North and the Riverlands erupted in celebration. Edmure Tully, now acting Lord of Riverrun in his ailing father's stead, embraced his nephew Robb.
"Amazing, Robb!" Edmure beamed. "You'll be as great a commander as your father—perhaps even greater!"
"Thank you, Uncle," Robb replied, his heart pounding with excitement, though he tried to remain modest. "But I still have a long way to go to match my father." Still, he had defeated the invincible Kingslayer in his very first battle. How could he not be thrilled?
Robb and Edmure walked over to where the captive was being held. Kneeling in the mud, bound tightly with ropes, was Jaime Lannister. Robb looked down at the man his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and triumph. "Kingslayer," he said proudly. "You are my prisoner now."
Jaime's face was covered in blood and dirt. The Northmen had pressed his head to the ground, and he was gasping for breath. He struggled to lift his head and glare up at the boy who had defeated him. Humiliation burned in his chest. To lose to this whelp, in his first command...
"Hah... hah..." Jaime gasped, a bloody grin spreading across his face. "Kill me... just kill me." The sweat on his forehead mingled with the blood, blurring his vision. "I'll have Eddard Stark to keep me company... It's enough... Kill me!"
At the mention of his father, Robb's eyes turned crimson with rage. He ripped his sword from its scabbard and pressed the cold steel against Jaime's neck. "You damn you all to hell!" he snarled, his voice trembling with fury. "You Lannisters are all damned! I'll take your head now, and when I've defeated Tywin Lannister, I will take King's Landing, and I will take the heads of Cersei and your bastard children with my own hands to avenge my father!"
Hearing the threat against Cersei and his children, Jaime struggled violently against his bonds, his own life forgotten. Robb raised his sword, ready to bring it down. The northern lords stood by in silence, waiting for their young lord to claim his vengeance. Lord Eddard's son had every right.
Jason's face was deathly pale. The battlefield was a horror of severed limbs and mangled corpses. The sight had been too much for a man who had lived his entire life in a peaceful, modern world. He had just spent several long minutes vomiting under a tree, and his body felt weak and empty.
He heard that Robb was about to execute the Kingslayer, but he couldn't bring himself to watch. He had thought he could handle the brutality of this world, but he had greatly overestimated his own fortitude. For now, he needed to rest. He wanted no part in any more battles for the time being.
Besides, his cavalry had already secured the decisive victory. It was their charge that had broken the Lannister army. This first great feat belonged to the Earl of Starfire City, and no one could take that away from him.
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