The Kingslayer indeed lived up to his reputation as one of the best swordsmen of his generation; his swordsmanship was truly superb. However, this was a battlefield, a contest of strength and speed, where he had almost no chance of winning.
Jaime felt even more despair. He thought he had met a young Robert, even more terrifying than Robert, an insurmountable mountain. Jaime only felt his arm ache, his bones seemingly about to shatter from the impact of the force. How could this man, after charging and fighting so many times, still possess such endless strength? Every swing of the warhammer carried an irresistible power. The Kingslayer silently counted his counterattacks, feeling a helpless sadness.
The roaring Red Cloaks also charged down from the trumpet-shaped opening of the valley. They arrived too late, but also just in time, entering the field when Gendry's army thought it was time to clean up the battlefield. The Red Cloaks swore to rescue their young master. They were an unexpected fresh force, and the red tide threatened to engulf the section where Gendry was.
"Hurry, Your Highness!" Ser Barristan shouted anxiously. On this battlefield, they, the Gold Cloaks, had become a salient point.
"Hurry, Ser!" The small Amory charged over, pulling Jaime's sleeve. A large group of Red Cloaks Knights rushed towards the Gold Cloaks. The battlefield transformed into a terrifying vortex. All the crabfeeders men, Knights of the Vale, and Gold Cloaks accelerated forward. If the Commander-in-Chief died after victory, it would truly be a laughingstock.
"Kill!" Several Red Cloaks Longspear appeared before Gendry. Their Longspear all thrust forward in an instant. Gendry parried left and right, nimbly dodging them. Gendry's whistling warhammer killed indiscriminately until the tip of the hammer got stuck in a gap in the scale armor. The Red Cloaks Longspear in front of him, though his bones were shattered, still clung to the warhammer, falling off his horse.
"His weapon is gone!" A sharp-eyed Lannister soldier shouted. Jaime, who was being pulled back in a daze, again brandished his gilded sword and charged forward.
"Really..." Gendry looked at Jaime with a hint of pity in his eyes. Gendry pulled an arakh from his saddle, emitting a faint cold light.
"Die, Bastard, usurper, ambitious man!" Jaime roared. He hated the taste of pity. His comrades were almost all dead, but if he could counter-kill, it would still be a gain.
"Run, that's a valyrian steel arakh!" Amory Lorch shrieked, but it was already too late.
"No!" Jaime also shrieked. Jaime finally understood who this pity was for; it was for himself.
A cold light flickered on the blade of the descending arakh, too fast to discern.
Jaime's palm and gilded sword fell to the withered leaf-covered ground with a thud. He was in so much pain he almost fainted.
Then came Gendry's second strike. The sharp arakh sliced across Jaime's cheek, taking off a piece of his nose and leaving a long, bloody scar on his face.
"Run!" Amory Lorch was also terrified. Blood, severed hands – this didn't look like a battlefield, but rather a hell. Amory quickly summoned a large group of Red Cloaks to surge forward, covering Jaime's retreat.
These Red Cloaks charged forward like madmen. Hundreds of Red Cloaks, in a slightly more open area, seemed to be rushing to their deaths, overwhelming the Gold Cloaks and Gendry. Quick-witted Red Cloaks switched the unconscious Kingslayer to another horse. A small group of them fled in disarray with Ser Jaime, while the rest pressed forward.
Gendry gripped the arakh tightly. This was an even more ferocious weapon than the warhammer, especially being valyrian steel. Gendry wielded the arakh, feeling like he had become the embodiment of slaughter. If only he had kept a reserve unit, but he hadn't expected such an interlude when the war was almost over. However, in the trumpet-shaped river mouth, the enemy's horses still had strength, and all of his own men couldn't press forward at once. It seemed impossible to capture them.
"Don't run, Amory. Since you want to save the Kingslayer, why don't you stay here?" Gendry brandished his arakh, catching up to Amory.
The thin Amory trembled, picking up his sword. It turned out that butchers still shed tears at death. The longsword was cut in half with a clang, and the surging blade light sliced Amory's body into two halves, upper and lower. All his bones, intestines, and internal organs spilled out.
"Kill!" Gendry became a whirlwind of death in the crowd, sweeping through gaps in armor and weak points. The Gold Cloaks who hadn't fallen also took the opportunity to join him. Dozens of Gold Cloaks and Ser Barristan formed an arrowhead formation, with Gendry as the sharp edge of the razor.
"Demons!" The Red Cloaks who entered later witnessed the bloody scenes. The Kingslayer had his hand cut off, Amory was cut in half at the waist, and with the Kingslayer perhaps already fleeing, morale began to collapse. The arakh was a blade of death, and before them was an apostle of the stranger. The stag and dragon roaring on that man's head were wantonly mocking their courage. Their numerical advantage dwindled, and Gendry's forces were already pressing forward.
"Surrender, we all surrender!"
The pale morning light gradually appeared. Most of the Red Cloaks who entered later were also killed, and the rest surrendered. Some of the more energetic Knights pursued, tracking the Kingslayer's footsteps. As long as they chased relentlessly, the Kingslayer's small unit would not be able to carry the message back to their camp.
Bronze Yohn, Earl Jason, Earl Jak, and Lord Boggs had also arrived. Gendry was not only unharmed but had even crushed the enemy's late-arriving reinforcements. These people didn't know how to evaluate him.
Everyone looked at Gendry with worship. His performance today was like a warrior descended from heaven, unmatched by anyone.
The arrogant Kingslayer, one of the strongest Knights of his time, though of poor character, no one could have imagined him suffering such a devastating defeat.
"Your Highness, it's good that you're alright," Bronze Yohn said with trepidation. It was supposed to be a great victory, but unexpectedly there was a new chapter, with unforeseen twists.
"The captives have all spoken. After the Mountain died, Tywin could only order Amory to lead the Knights to burn, kill, and plunder in the Riverlands, destroying land and castles. Amory also received Tywin's order to help Jaime, and unexpectedly arrived just in time."
"What about the Kingslayer?" Earl Jason asked.
"The Kingslayer was rescued by the reinforcements, but with His Highness Gendry's intervention, his hand was severed, and his face disfigured. With such severe injuries, he probably won't be able to command battles for the next six months. Moreover, the Commander of this cavalry unit, Amory, is also dead," Ser Barristan said. "And we have already dispatched well-rested cavalry, ensuring they won't dare to run back to their camp."
Gendry's golden cloak had turned completely dark red, and the smell of blood was terrifyingly strong. Such an intense battle truly made him feel somewhat over-exhausted. He held the arakh, and Ser Barristan handed him the fallen spiked warhammer.
"Reserve unit, I was careless this time," Gendry admitted frankly. He was pondering the flaws in his command, still a bit too reliant on experience and preconceived notions. "If I had placed another reserve cavalry unit at the trumpet mouth, they probably wouldn't have escaped unscathed."
"That was my fault," Bronze Yohn quickly admitted his mistake. The victory was too dazzling, causing them to forget to send out another group of scouts on the road, thinking they had encountered all the Knights, but unexpectedly Tywin sent another wave.
"Continue south, we still need to rush to relieve Riverrun."
"Yes." At this moment, no one could question his authority.
Anguy walked over, carrying a head. "Your swordsmanship is truly ruthless, Your Highness."
"Wrap this head well. I want to send it to Daenerys. Perhaps Dany will like this gift." Gendry looked at the foolish head, Amory Lorch.
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