Chapter 35: Appearance Is Also a Form of Combat Power
All members of House Lannister knew that Lord Tywin Lannister's favorite was Jaime Lannister.
Jaime's own excellence further elevated his status within House Lannister, making it transcendent.
Tywin Lannister had always been cold and dismissive toward Tyrion. Regardless of Tywin's attitude, just looking at Tyrion's impish appearance made it difficult for anyone to like him, and easier to look down on him.
Despite all this, with Jaime's affection and protection, the members of House Lannister at least maintained a superficial respect for Tyrion.
Lancel Lannister was one of them.
But today, Lancel had seen with his own eyes how Tyrion, in order to protect him, had slapped Prince Joffrey with his own hands.
Lancel's respect for his cousin, Tyrion, was no longer mere politeness; he now worshipped Tyrion from the bottom of his heart.
Lancel blinked, his gaze toward Tyrion filled with gratitude and reverence.
Lancel's gaze was naturally intense. Tyrion had the same experience as Glyn and couldn't help but shiver under Lancel's brilliant stare.
Tyrion avoided Lancel's gaze and patted his thigh. "Let's go. We'll leave this place and go find the young lord. They started preparing smoked roast beef early this morning. Beef pairs best with summerwine."
Lancel once again recalled the scene of rolling heads, unable to shake the bone-chilling horror he felt.
How could he still eat meat? Lancel swallowed the bile rising in his stomach, feeling that Glyn and the others were far too strong-willed.
Lancel cautiously glanced in the direction Prince Joffrey had left. Seeing it was still empty, he secretly sighed in relief and caught up with Tyrion. "Cousin Tyrion, should we tell Jaime about this?"
Tyrion shrugged. "Jaime and Cersei are discussing matters. I have no desire to go and disturb her right now. My dear sister would love any excuse to swallow me whole."
Tyrion added reassuringly, "You should calm down. I promise nothing will happen. I feel we should be thinking more about this evening's feast."
Lancel felt that what Tyrion said made sense; he was indeed in a panic right now.
As they walked, Tyrion said, "Lancel, don't just think about the horror you saw at the execution grounds. You should think more about why Glyn did what he did. Perhaps you can learn something useful from his actions!"
*Learn from Lord Glyn's cruelty?*
Lancel suddenly felt that the battlefield might not be as glorious as he had imagined. The numbers in the books were completely different from what he had seen with his own eyes.
It was too gory. The battlefield must be even more brutal.
*Perhaps Father saw long ago that I wasn't suited for the battlefield, and that's why he made me stay away from the army.*
Tyrion was very patient. "You're still focusing on the brutality of the scene, but I have to tell you, this is all essentially a political maneuver."
"Glyn is one of the very few nobles I know who values the common folk. Perhaps it's a gift, but at such a young age, he already understands the true nature of power."
"Oh, is... is that so?"
"Later, don't just focus on drinking and making merry. You can ask Glyn to teach you a bit about politics. This knowledge will be helpful for your future path."
Lancel snapped back to his senses and nodded. "I understand, Tyrion."
Tyrion suddenly began to worry about the future of House Lannister.
Jaime was too emotional. It seemed the only ones with brains among the Lannisters were Tywin and himself.
Right, and there's also Uncle Kevan.
Three brains were probably enough, because the Lannisters had plenty of gold.
...
...
King's Landing, an alley in the Queen's Quarter.
Montun raised his warhammer high, charged forward, and then swung it fiercely, the sound of it whistling through the air.
Anguy carefully straightened his blue tunic, picked up his bow, nocked an arrow, and drew the bowstring into a full moon. With a *thwip*, the sharp arrow pierced the neck of a burly man in the distance.
Montun's warhammer smashed another enemy's head, spraying sticky red gore everywhere.
Montun and Anguy were secretly competing. You smash one, and I'll immediately shoot one.
Montun's shield moved, and with a *clang*, it perfectly parried an enemy's longsword thrust.
The enemy, parried by Montun's shield, felt his hands go numb. He could only watch wide-eyed as the warhammer descended, his head bursting open.
Of the dozen or so enemies, only the last two remained.
After a brief moment of gathering his strength, Montun charged, shield-bashing one and hammering the other, leaving behind two pools of blood.
Panting heavily, Montun plopped down on a stone block and pulled up his helmet's visor. "Anguy, I killed one more than you, hehe."
When Montun had charged, Anguy had already guessed his plan and helplessly put away his bow and arrow.
Anguy walked with a frown, avoiding the pools of blood on the street. His brand new brown leather boots remained spotless.
Montun stared blankly at Anguy's actions and said simply, "Anguy, the clothes and boots are going to get dirty sooner or later."
Anguy walked to Montun's side and carefully inspected his boots again. "Montun, don't mind me. This is the first time I've ever worn such fine gear."
"And these soft leather boots! Do you know how comfortable my feet feel when I walk? I absolutely love them."
"By the Seven! You don't understand. In my experience, only nobles can dress like this, and yet this is actually my soldier's uniform."
The blue uniforms of the Clegane soldiers, when compared to the clothes of nobles, were several grades lower in dyeing craftsmanship and material. It was mainly that Anguy's knowledge was lacking; this was a beautiful misunderstanding.
Appearance is also a form of combat power. Glyn placed great importance on the aesthetics and uniformity of the soldier's attire.
Born a commoner and later living the life of a wandering sellsword, this was the first time in his life Anguy had worn such formal and good-looking clothes.
Montun said good-naturedly, "We all went through this. You'll get used to it after a while. We used to wear grey uniforms; we only recently changed to blue."
Anguy scratched the back of his head and said embarrassedly, "It might take me a little longer to get used to it."
Seeing Anguy was interested in the attire, Montun added, "Let's kill a few more today, and be quick about it. There aren't many sellswords who snuck in. Since you're the lord's personal guard, if you perform well today, you might get the cloak embroidered with the Clegane sigil ahead of schedule."
Anguy's eyes lit up. "I've never seen one! Do you have one?"
Montun nodded emphatically.
Anguy was puzzled. "How come I've never seen your cloak?"
Montun chuckled and replied, "I'm afraid of ruining it. Unless I'm ordered to, I can't bear to put it on."
Anguy nodded in agreement. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go! Didn't you say there aren't many of them?"
"Yeah, I heard from Leyton there are only about a hundred. Not enough for us to split."
"Right, it's affecting my performance. That... what does the cloak look like? Can you let me see yours when we get back?"
Montun secured his warhammer. "It's blue, with a marsh marigold embroidered on it. The flower's huge! If you like, you can borrow mine to wear for a bit."
"Then I'll buy you a drink? Ah, I'm truly broke right now. I'll wait until I get my pay."
"Just kill a few more. After the fight, you can exchange them for wine by the head. Or for money."
"Who needs money? Of course I'm exchanging them for wine! Montun, let's run!"
(end of chapter)