495 Chapter 495: Foiled Counterattack

The Lannister army leisurely dismantled their camp after waking from their daytime slumber, beginning a slow retreat.

Suspicious of subterfuge, the Targaryen forces did not immediately pursue. Instead, they observed from a distance. Only when they were certain the Lannisters were truly retreating did they hasten their chase, fearing the enemy might escape entirely.

However, in their pursuit, Prince Oberyn and his forces were led right into a trap. The edge of the Red Lake was ensnared by vast woods — the very place where the Children of the Forest once battled men.

"Now's the moment!"

"Strike down these invaders!"

Caught in the chase, the Targaryen army was ensnared by the Lannisters. The Lannister forces swiftly turned, war cries echoing from every direction.

A fierce battle ensued in the woods, and the Targaryens, outmaneuvered, were forced back to the brink of the Red Lake.

"Flee!"

"Run!"

The Targaryens even abandoned their main camp, which the Lannisters burnt to the ground. They fled far and fast.

The Lannister army, after a brief chase, retreated, securing their first victory since the war began at Twin River City.

The great Sir Stafford Lannister, having planned well in advance, led the Westerlands' soldiers to defeat the renowned Prince of Dorne.

As the day of fierce combat concluded, and the Targaryens were nowhere to be seen, night began to fall.

Inside the Lannister camp,

"Come!"

"Raise your glasses!"

"To honor General Stafford Lannister!"

A knight bearing the sigil of House Payne was the first to stand, leading a toast to Stafford.

"To Sir Stafford!"

The feast was lively. Westerlands' knights and nobles raised their glasses one by one. Only the scarred knight, Sandor "The Hound" Clegane, appeared disinterested. He raised his glass but drank alone.

Having repelled the mighty Targaryen force, the Lannisters naturally returned to their previous campsite. The camp was alive with celebration, and wine flowed freely.

Everyone but 'The Hound' Sandor Clegane raised their cups, cheering for Sir Stafford Lannister, the man who led them to victory.

Sir Stafford, a rotund figure, looked flushed and slightly intoxicated.

"Compose yourself!"

"Stafford, be sober!"

Even though he constantly reminded himself to remain calm since the war wasn't over and Oberyn was no easy foe, the intoxicating victory and the subsequent praises made it hard.

He had defeated the renowned Oberyn. The Targaryen army wasn't as invincible as it appeared. After this battle, it seemed Stafford's name would be uttered alongside great commanders like his cousin Tywin Lannister, Randyll Tarly, and King Robert.

"Ha! All of you flatter me."

"It's just a minor achievement."

Sir Stafford, donning the black and gold armor of House Lannister, loosened some straps, revealing the lining beneath. Beside him, his sword rested, and he stood, goblet in hand, finishing his drink, eliciting cheers from all.

Only Sandor Clegane scoffed, tearing a chunk from a lamb leg. He drank his strongwine, chewing voraciously.

Sir Stafford deduced that after this defeat, the Targaryens wouldn't retaliate soon. Their camp had been burnt.

The Lannisters celebrated. After all, an army without a camp was like a force without a home. Without a place for supplies and rest, morale would crumble.

Outside the Lannister camp, the Targaryen forces silently returned.

"Sir?"

A guard looked to Prince Oberyn, who, despite the day's setback, looked formidable in his armor, his eyes coldly fixated on the illuminated Lannister camp and the looming golden lion flag.

With just over 20,000 men against a larger, better-equipped Westerland army, there was no room for mistakes. But such high stakes only excited Oberyn.

"Annihilate them!"

A horn blew.

"Charge!"

Roars thundered outside the Lannister camp as countless Targaryen forces surged forth.