Northeast of the Inn at the Crossroads lay the foothills of the Mountains of the Moon, covered in dense forests.
To the west flowed the Green Fork, its waters swift and turbulent.
Between the Ruby Ford to the north and the Mountains of the Moon to the south stretched an open plain, completely exposed and offering excellent visibility.
It was the kind of terrain where neither side could hope to set an ambush or catch the other unprepared.
During the early stages of the War of the Five Kings, Roose had once attempted a nighttime attack here.
Yet Tywin had still discovered the maneuver.
That clash had become known as the First Battle of the Green Fork.
Kevan had fought in that battle as well.
Following Tywin's command, he had led the infantry-heavy center and smashed Roose's foot soldiers, securing victory for House Lannister.
The tactical results had been impressive.
The Lannisters had lost only a relatively small number of levies and mountain clansmen, while nearly half of Bolton's army had been destroyed.
Yet from the perspective of the larger war, Kevan understood the truth.
Roose Bolton had never intended to win.
The battle had merely been a sacrifice to pin down the Lannister host and create an opening for Robb's strike at Riverrun.
The direct result had been Jaime's defeat and capture.
From that moment onward, the Lannisters had been placed at a disadvantage.
Now, standing once more upon the same battlefield, Kevan remained more cautious than ever.
He had no intention of allowing another strategic disaster.
That was why, despite possessing Bolton's intelligence, he advanced carefully, remaining alert for any surprises.
His caution soon paid off.
After two hours of marching, his army had covered barely three miles before encountering the northern host directly on the Kingsroad.
The moment Kevan saw the sea of banners ahead—the white sunburst, the green bear, crossed keys, battle-axes, and countless others—his heart sank.
'Damn.'
'I've been deceived.'
'Bolton truly betrayed me.'
As he stared at the army stretching across the plain, anger surged through him.
His eyes filled with murderous hatred for Roose Bolton.
The force before him numbered roughly the same as his own. At least ten thousand men.
These were not the "stubborn remnants" Bolton had described in his letter.
This was the main strength of the northern alliance.
For an instant, Kevan felt certain he had walked into a carefully prepared trap.
Bolton intended for the Lannisters and Stark loyalists to bleed each other dry.
'Roose Bolton...'
'I'll have you flayed alive.'
After muttering several curses, Kevan forced himself to calm down.
He immediately issued orders for battle formations.
The arrow had already left the bow.
There was no turning back.
The two armies faced each other on the Kingsroad for only a short time before the northern alliance sounded its horns and surged forward in a massive wave.
And the moment they moved, Kevan's battlefield instincts detected something wrong.
'Too messy...'
'Everything is too messy...'
For a moment, he wondered if this was another one of Bolton's tricks.
Yet as he observed the enemy advance, confusion filled his eyes.
Their momentum was fierce.
Their formation was chaos.
The giant banner of House Umber charged ahead recklessly.
Their spearmen ran faster than ordinary infantry and slammed into the White Harbor troops behind them without the slightest concern.
The Blackwoods and Brackens competed with one another even as they advanced, refusing to yield an inch.
Their soldiers were already shoving and fighting before reaching the enemy.
The Mormonts, having the fewest men, had been pushed onto the flank by a riverlord contingent and could no longer properly connect with the northern line.
Some riverlords, hoping to preserve their strength, deliberately lagged behind at the rear.
And there were countless other examples.
Even Vargo, who possessed little military training, could see the truth.
The army before them did not resemble a disciplined force.
It looked like a collection of private retainers thrown together at the last moment, each fighting for its own lord.
And when it came to dealing with disorganized enemies, the Brave Companions were experts.
"Spread out!"
"Surround them!"
"Same as always, boys!"
Vargo pulled on his grotesque goat-headed helm and let out a savage howl.
Without waiting for Kevan's orders, he led the attack himself.
The Brave Companions surged forward like a tidal wave and engulfed the advancing Umber forces.
Within moments, both sides were fighting desperately. The roar of battle echoed across the entire plain.
With the mercenaries serving as the vanguard, the armies collided violently.
And only then did Kevan finally identify the enemy's greatest weakness.
'This isn't Bolton's trap.'
'They have no unified command.'
A hunter's excitement flashed through Kevan Lannister's eyes as he spotted the fatal opening.
'Bolton didn't lie.'
'A wolf pack without an alpha. No matter how fierce, they're still scattered prey.'
'Then I'll begin with the Riverlands.'
Every trace of doubt vanished. Only cold killing intent remained.
He seized the opportunity immediately. This would become the final battle command of his life.
"Send word to the Brave Companions!"
Kevan roared at a messenger.
"Tell them to hold the enemy vanguard at all costs. For every half hour they hold, I'll double their payment."
The messenger hurried away.
Kevan then turned toward the officers gathering around him. Orders flew from his lips one after another.
"Ser Addam Marbrand!
Take all cavalry and bypass their front line. Drive into their right flank like a red-hot spear.
Ser Amory Lorch!
Take half the infantry and all available spearmen.
Position yourselves behind the Brave Companions. The moment they weaken, take over the fight.
Ignore the northern troops. Concentrate everything against the riverlords.
I want their formation shattered as quickly as possible."
His commanders hurried off to execute the plan.
Rather than attempting to overwhelm the entire enemy line, Kevan concentrated his best troops like a surgeon's knife.
He aimed directly for the weakest point in the alliance.
The riverlords.
The balance of the battlefield began tilting visibly toward the Lannisters.
House Umber was already trapped inside the Brave Companions' encirclement.
The Blackwoods and Brackens were still competing against one another.
Nearly two thousand men had been delayed because of their rivalry.
Then Addam Marbrand's cavalry slammed into the flank of the Blackwood army.
"Kill them!"
A single devastating charge shattered the Blackwood line.
"Again!"
Marbrand wheeled his horse around, preparing another assault.
But Karstark cavalry intercepted him.
"Damn it!" Rickard shouted while fighting desperately. "Who fights a battle like this?"
"Lord Bracken! What are you doing?!"
"Help Blackwood!"
But amidst the thunderous chaos of battle, Bracken never heard him. And even if he had, he would not have cared.
Seeing Blackwood's men routed brought him secret satisfaction.
Instead, he led his own forces straight into the path of the Brave Companions.
At first they fought bravely. They held against the initial assault and even launched a counterattack.
But before long, they faced enemies who outnumbered them several times over.
The mercenaries descended like rabid dogs.
The Bracken line began to buckle.
"Hold!"
"For House Bracken!"
Lord Bracken roared, cutting down an earless mercenary with his greatsword.
But personal courage could not stop the collapse.
When Urswyck, Vargo's lieutenant, smashed the Bracken standard-bearer into a bloody pulp along with the banner itself, the Bracken soldiers finally broke.
"My lord!"
"We've been surrounded!"
Bracken looked around.
Everywhere he turned he saw grinning mercenaries. No friendly banners remained in sight except the Umbers.
Even the fierce Umbers were gradually collapsing without support.
"If we stay, the entire army dies here!"
"We must go, my lord!"
Hearing his captain's plea, Lord Bracken stared at the dwindling number of men around him.
Despair filled his eyes.
He knew the truth... Continuing meant annihilation.
"Retreat..."
The word tasted like poison.
"Move toward Lord Umber. Break out with them."
It was the rational choice.
It also doomed the entire alliance.
Just as Kevan had predicted, the shattered remnants of House Blackwood fled in panic.
Like headless chickens, they crashed directly into the Umber spear formations already struggling against the Brave Companions.
"Out of the way!"
"You cowards!" Greatjon roared.
It made no difference. Panic spread like a plague.
"The Brackens are retreating!"
"We're surrounded!"
"Run!"
One house broke.
Then another.
Then another.
Like falling dominoes, the entire allied line began collapsing from the center outward.
The formation tore apart like a ripped canvas.
Standing atop a rise behind two thousand remaining Lannister soldiers, Kevan watched everything unfold.
A victor's smile appeared on his face.
'The moment has come.'
Slowly, he raised his sword. Then pointed it forward.
"Full assault!"
The war horns sounded.
Every Westerlands soldier erupted into action.
Like lions pouncing upon wounded prey, they surged forward against the collapsing enemy.
The northern alliance disintegrated.
The battle had become a rout.
And just as despair began consuming the northern lords— A new banner suddenly appeared behind the Lannister army.
A crimson field bearing a silver fist.
A force burst from the rear and charged straight into the Lannister lines.
The battlefield changed in an instant.
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