Jaime Lannister knelt in the blood-soaked mud, his right hand severed, screaming in agony. The hardened Northern lords stood frozen, stunned by the sudden brutality.
Roman looked at the paralyzed group and sighed. "If you don't bandage the Kingslayer right now, he will bleed to death in the next three minutes and ruin your hostage."
The Northerners snapped out of their daze and rushed forward, grabbing the screaming Jaime to tourniquet his stump.
Robb Stark and the highborn Northern lords stared at Roman with open awe, as if looking at a figure from legend. It was the first time any of them had seen a genuine dragon from the ancient tales, and curiosity burned in their eyes.
Is Lord Roman actually a dragon? Greatjon Umber wondered.
By the Old Gods, I think he is, Lord Karstark thought.
"But in the old Targaryen legends, dragons were massive beasts with little intelligence," one lord whispered. "They needed a Valyrian rider to tell friend from foe. Lord Roman has the mind and wisdom of a man."
The men of the North debated whether Roman Rivers was truly human or something more draconic. Many thought of Aerion Brightflame, the Targaryen prince who believed he was a dragon trapped in human form and drank wildfire to transform. He had burned to death instead.
Perhaps Aerion had not been entirely mad — he had simply been a fragile human trying to become something he was not. Roman Rivers, on the other hand, clearly was not.
The pragmatic Northerners saw no terror in this. They were grateful that Eddard Stark's honor had kept Roman as a loyal friend to the North rather than an enemy.
The Frey heirs, however, did not share that comfort. As they watched Roman greet the Northern nobles, their faces turned pale. If Roman used the same power he had just shown against Jaime's guards on the wooden bridge of the Twins, House Frey would be reduced to ash overnight. The Frey sons silently vowed to convince their father to stop his political games, even if it meant removing the old man themselves.
Robb Stark looked at Roman with a complicated expression. He had often wondered what it would feel like to finally stand before this figure he both envied and admired. In the end, he asked respectfully:
"Lord Roman, where has Ser Barristan deployed his cavalry?"
"Since our heavy Vanguard could not keep pace for the ambush in the Whispering Wood, Ser Barristan marched straight to Riverrun. He is in position for a coordinated attack and waiting for you to arrive."
Robb's strategic instincts took over. "Then we must force-march to Riverrun tonight. With Jaime gone, the Lannister siege lines will be leaderless and vulnerable."
Roman agreed. He had come to strike Jaime's army and saw an opportunity to crush the Westerlands forces here and now, ending their daily raids on Harrenhal's lands.
Robb quickly assigned commands. Due to Riverrun's triangular geography, the rivers split the surrounding land into three separate camps. Jaime had been forced to divide his host to maintain the siege. That division would now work against them.
Lord Hoster Tully, strengthened by Harrenhal's advanced medicines, had coordinated a strong defense from the walls. The Lannisters had never come close to breaching Riverrun.
In Robb's plan, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully would destroy the Lannister camp on the north bank of the Tumblestone. Robb would lead the Northern heavy cavalry against the main camp on the western bank. Ser Barristan's Harrenhal Vanguard would take the southern camp on the Red Fork.
No Westerlands soldier would escape back to the Golden Tooth.
Time was short. Roman needed to return to his high-altitude position. He left a cage of Apostle ravens with Robb.
"Lord Robb, these ravens are one of Harrenhal's specialties. If you need support during the night assault, send me the coordinates and I will provide close-air support."
Roman walked to an open clearing, stretched his massive leathery wings, and smirked. "Let us meet again tonight inside Riverrun for the victory feast."
His body erupted in a roaring blaze of White Flame. His wings struck the ground, launching him upward with a thunderous crack. The force of the takeoff knocked several Northern lords off their feet. Moments later, he became a white comet streaking across the dark sky.
Robb allowed himself one brief moment of envy before his expression hardened.
"Generals!" he roared, drawing his sword. "Begin the forced march! We reach Riverrun before nightfall!"
Riverrun. Midnight.
Robb Stark, Brynden Tully, and Ser Barristan Selmy had all moved their forces into position for the final assault.
Brynden Blackfish struck first. Under cover of darkness, his outriders silently killed Lannister scouts and pickets. Then he led his vanguard in a sudden charge against the sleeping northern camp.
The long, uneventful siege had left the Lannisters unprepared. The Blackfish's attack shattered the camp of more than four thousand Westerlands troops before most could even arm themselves.
At the same time, Ser Barristan's Harrenhal cavalry hit Ser Forley Prester's southern camp.
Forley Prester was a balding, unshaven man who looked more like a tavern keeper than a wealthy lord, yet Jaime had trusted him. Tonight his luck ran out. Hearing the thunder of charging cavalry, he rushed out of his tent without his armor. In the darkness, the Harrenhal riders did not recognize him as a noble.
An Ironman saw an unarmored man standing in the mud and drove his heavy lance straight through his chest. The impact shattered Prester's ribs and tore through his lungs. The momentum dragged him across the ground before waves of cavalry trampled over his body, leaving him dead in the mud.
The night was dark and the three-pronged attack chaotic. Barristan and Roman had already decided against taking prisoners. The order was simple: kill any Lannister they found.
The Vanguard Ironmen attacked without hesitation, using lances, maces, sabers, and alchemical incendiaries. The disoriented Lannister soldiers in the southern camp were slaughtered like cattle in an abattoir.
By now, the main Lannister army on the western bank realized something was wrong. Their captains tried to split their forces and board transport ships to help their comrades across the rivers.
Robb seized the moment and launched a heavy cavalry charge straight into the center of the disorganized western camp.
The Lannisters hastily formed a desperate shield wall, but Lord Hoster Tully struck from Riverrun's battlements. Castle catapults hurled massive stones into the Lannister rear while they were engaged with Robb's horsemen.
Caught between the cavalry in front and the barrage from behind, the western camp collapsed. Soldiers threw down their weapons and tried to surrender.
But several detachments had already boarded galleys and were rowing across the dark rivers to flank the Blackfish and Barristan. Robb's cavalry was tied up securing the western surrender and could not intercept the ships.
The Young Wolf looked at the enemy fleet moving on the river and turned to the Apostle raven perched on his squire's saddle.
"Raven!" he ordered. "Tell Lord Roman Rivers we need his aerial support immediately."
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