Everyone's eyes were fixed on the distant horizon.
The morning light finally tore through the clouds, spilling golden radiance over the land.
Against that light, a torrent of red and gold suddenly surged over the horizon!
It was the Lannister banner of the roaring lion, a golden lion embroidered on crimson, snapping wildly in the morning wind.
Beneath those banners, the cavalry of the Westerlands swept forward like a tide.
Dust raised by eight thousand warhorses billowed into the sky like rolling clouds.
The torrent of steel was like an enormous dagger, heated red-hot and quenched in blood, driving savagely toward the seemingly tight Targaryen siege lines outside Stokeworth with the force to tear through everything.
There was no probing, no hesitation, only a charge of utmost ferocity.
The seemingly solid siege line split like butter beneath a hot knife, torn open in an instant into a vast, bloody wound.
The black-robed Targaryen soldiers seemed helpless before the devastating charge of the Westerlands cavalry.
Their formations shattered. Soldiers were sent flying by the horses, pierced by lances, and cut down by longswords. Their cries and screams had barely begun before the greater, deafening thunder of hooves crushed and drowned them out.
Jaime Lannister rode at the very front.
His golden hair whipped wildly in the wind. Every swing of his longsword sent up a spray of blood, clearing the obstacles ahead with precision and efficiency.
He saw only the castle drawing ever closer, shrouded in smoke. There was only one thought in his mind: Get inside!
The Westerlands cavalry smashed through every obstacle, bearing straight down on the battered walls of Stokeworth.
On the top floor of Stokeworth's Main Building, the suffocating silence finally broke.
Bronn's back, drawn so taut it had almost snapped, suddenly relaxed. His hand, which had