At that moment, Hal was silent, looking at the Regent.
Aemond said with a smile, "After Jason Lannister's death, the entire Westerlands army will be leaderless. At that moment, I will go out to save them, and then temporarily gather these western elites into my own hands."
He continued, "I also intend to use this war to let him die. After his death, the elites of the Westerlands should not be used to feed the fish."
Aemond paused; a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, and he asked, "I heard that Jason's eldest son is only a year old?"
Hal nodded. "That seems to be the case."
"Then after he dies, I will adopt his eldest son," Aemond said.
Hal swallowed. Take Jason's son as a foster son? That's as good as holding the future of the Lannisters in his own hands. Aemond certainly wouldn't mind personally training these young lords. Raising them by his side from childhood, cultivating loyalty to House Targaryen.
Hal quickly lowered his head. "The Regent is wise."
Aemond nodded, turned, and walked toward Harrenhal. "Prepare. Tomorrow, after the Boys' Army arrives, we will have much to do."
"Yes."
---
The Riverlands, near the Red Fork.
The sun shone brightly; banners fluttered.
Lord Jason Lannister rode on horseback, looking down at the battlefield below. In the center of the battlefield, over a thousand northern soldiers were fleeing. The northerners wore ragged leather armor and carried primitive weapons, nowhere near the level of the well-equipped Westerlands army. They had held out for only a quarter of an hour before being overwhelmed by the charge of the Westerlands knights and began to scatter and run.
"Chase!" Jason, on his horse, raised his sword and shouted loudly. "Don't let them escape!"
The Westerlands cavalry roared, pursuing the fleeing northerners. Cries, pleas for mercy, and the sound of swords piercing flesh mingled together.
Jason watched this scene, a smug smile on his face.
"Lafford," he said, turning to Lord Lafford Reyne beside him, "do you see? This is the main force of the northerners? A ragtag bunch."
Lord Lafford frowned, looking at the fleeing northerners, always feeling that something was wrong. "My lord, could this be a trap?"
"A trap?" Jason laughed. "Lafford, you are too cautious. An army of a thousand men—we haven't left a single suit of armor—how could this be a trap?"
He pointed at the northerners running in the distance. "Look at these northern savages; they run like rabbits. Such a crowd? What kind of trap could they set?"
Lafford shook his head. "My lord, that's not what I meant. I mean, I always feel that something is not right..."
Jason's smile became somewhat restrained, but he quickly regained his confidence. "Don't worry, the northern savages have only this much strength."
Lord Jason began to ride forward, toward the center of the battlefield. Lafford quickly followed.
On the battlefield, the Westerlands soldiers were clearing the battlefield and gathering spoils. The bodies of the northerners were piled together, waiting to be burned. Wounded northern prisoners were held to the side, awaiting disposal.
Jason approached a prisoner and looked down at him. The prisoner was a young northerner, just over twenty, his face covered in blood, one hand cut off, leaving only a bit of flesh and skin. He trembled in pain, but gritted his teeth and said nothing.
"Where is Cregan's whelp?" Jason asked.
The prisoner glared at him and remained silent. Lord Jason gracefully drew his sword and laid it on his neck. "Speak."
The prisoner's lips moved, and suddenly he spat a mouthful of blood at Jason. Jason turned his head to dodge, his face darkening, and then his sword pierced the prisoner's throat. The prisoner fell to the ground, convulsed twice, and died.
Taking the deerskin handed by a servant, Jason wiped the blood from his sword, looked around at the soldiers, and said loudly, "Kill all these prisoners. We need no burdens."
The Lannister soldiers received the order; in an instant, their swords were raised, and cries arose.
Jason mounted his horse and looked toward the distant horizon. There, the fleeing northerners were faintly visible.
"Give the orders," the lord commanded, "continue the pursuit."
Lafford quickly stepped forward. "My lord, perhaps we should join the main force first? The Regent is waiting for us at Harrenhal. If we..."
"Aemond?" Jason interrupted and sneered. "Just let that boy wait. After I have dealt with these Riverlands peasants and northern savages, it will not be too late to see him again."
"But, my lord..."
"Lafford," Jason turned to him with a hint of displeasure in his eyes. "Are you my vassal or Aemond's vassal?"
Lafford was silent.
Jason explained, despite his displeasure. "Don't worry, I have it weighed. The northerners also have some strength; we will chase them to the end, and it won't take many days to drive them all away. Then we will take the whelp and the prisoners to Harrenhal, and that boy will have to look up to me."
The lord paused, his eyes shining with excitement. "Think—eight thousand elites of the Westerlands will have cleared the entire river, killing the northerners without leaving a single suit of armor."
Lafford looked at the overly confident lord before him. He understood that it was useless to say anything. Lord Jason was completely elated.
Thereafter, the entire Westerlands army continued the pursuit by order of Lord Lannister.
---
In the distance, Cregan Stark rode on horseback, looking back at the celebrating Westerlands soldiers. A faint smile was on his face.
"My lord," Riley Karstark rode forward and pointed into the distance, "that fool is still pursuing."
Cregan nodded. "Let him chase."
Riley smiled. "We've lost four engagements and nearly a thousand men."
Cregan laughed from his horse. "Then let him win one more."
"Lose again?" Riley was stunned.
Cregan looked at him with a calm gaze. "Riley, what do you think is the most important thing in war?"
Riley thought for a moment. "Courage? Troops? Equipment?"
Cregan shook his head. "Patience."
He looked into the distance and said slowly, "Jason Lannister marches in order. If he fights one battle at a time, we might not win. But he has a fatal flaw—his pride is too great."
Riley nodded thoughtfully.
Cregan continued. "When he is completely carried away, he will chase desperately. Then, the hidden Riverlands army will cut off their logistics..."
A mocking smile appeared at the corner of Cregan's lips. "And we will lead the Lannister army to an ambush. Those more than eight thousand elites of the Westerlands—when the time comes, I will let them all feed the fish..."
Beside him, Riley rubbed his hands excitedly. "I can't wait to face that western woman's army."
Cregan said seriously, "But don't be happy yet; we have several more performances."
Cregan turned and descended the mountain. "Send the order—lose another battle. Lose convincingly."
Riley smiled. "Yes."