The red-cloaked Lannister horsemen saw the towering knight in the gold cloak swinging his enormous warhammer, reaping lives like wheat. Amid the crowd, he seemed a god with great antlers.
"Robert? Has King Robert risen from the dead?"
"Spare us! We're not traitors!"
"Has King Robert crawled out of his grave? Is the king still alive?" the Red Cloaks cried in terror, seeing enemies everywhere.
Banners with golden fields rose one after another, like golden flames blazing fiercely. A leaping stag, a roaring dragon. Lannister morale fell into chaos, and a wave of collapse had already begun.
"Kingslayer, I'm your opponent!"
The Kingslayer turned from the fighting and saw the man in the golden cloak bringing death with every movement, like a god of slaughter walking the earth.
"R-Robert's son." The Kingslayer saw the designs on the cloak: the leaping stag and roaring dragon. Gold, black, and red-the three colors almost pierced his eyes.
"Run, ser! We can't hold them!" Those around him called out urgently. A nearby squire could not help saying, "They're too strong. This is a massacre."
"Too strong?" the Kingslayer roared, his composure beginning to crumble. Instead, he raised his gilded sword and charged. "You won't leave me alone even in death?"
Chapter 173: The lion who lost his hand
The Red Comet hung over the River Valley Forest like an enduring scar across the heavens, streaming blood and mocking these humans slaughtering one another.
The Whispering Wood had become a brutal battlefield. Killing was one of the agonies humanity had to face: kill or be killed.
Echoes surged through the valley-the crack of snapping spears, the clang of clashing blades, and the roars of charging soldiers.
"Long live the Warhammer!" "Long live the Stag!" "Long live the Liberator!"
"Long live the Crackclawmen!"
"Long live the