Beauty is Also a Kind of Combat Power

Every member of the Lannister family knew that Lord Tywin Lannister loved Jaime Lannister best.

Jaime's own brilliance only served to make his status within the Lannister family even more transcendent.

Tywin Lannister had always been cold and dismissive toward Tyrion; regardless of Tywin's attitude, one look at Tyrion's dwarfish appearance made it difficult for people to like him, and even easier to look down upon him.

Although all of the above was true, with Jaime's affection and protection, the Lannister members at least maintained a facade of respect toward Tyrion.

Lancel Lannister was one of them.

But today, Lancel had seen with his own eyes that Tyrion, in order to protect him, had actually slapped Prince Joffrey with his own hand.

Lancel no longer held mere polite respect for his cousin Tyrion; instead, he felt a sense of admiration growing in his heart.

Lancel's eyes flickered, and the gaze he fixed upon Tyrion was filled with gratitude and reverence.

Lancel's gaze was naturally intense, and Tyrion, having experienced the same thing with Crabb, couldn't help but shudder under the boy's sparkling eyes.

Tyrion avoided Lancel's gaze and patted his thigh: "Let's go, let's leave this place and go find the young Lord. They started preparing smoked roast beef early this morning, and beef pairs best with Summer Wine."

Lancel thought of the scene of rolling heads again, unable to shake the bone-chilling horror from his heart.

Could he still stomach meat? Lancel swallowed the nausea rising in his throat, feeling that the hearts of Crabb and his men were far too strong.

Lancel cautiously glanced in the direction Prince Joffrey had left, and seeing that it was still empty, he breathed a secret sigh of relief and followed Tyrion: "Cousin Tyrion, do we need to tell Jaime?"

Tyrion spread his hands: "Jaime and Cersei are discussing matters, and I have no desire to go over and disturb her right now; my dear sister is practically begging for an excuse to swallow me whole."

Tyrion comforted him again: "You should calm your heart; I guarantee nothing will happen. I feel you should be thinking more about the banquet tonight."

Lancel felt that what Tyrion said made sense; he was indeed in a state of panic right now.

As they walked, Tyrion said: "Lancel, don't just think about the horror you saw at the execution ground. You should think more about why Crabb did what he did. Perhaps you can learn something useful from his actions!"

Learn from the cruelty of Lord Crabb?

Lancel suddenly felt that the battlefield might not be as beautiful as he had imagined; the numbers in books were completely different from what he had seen with his own eyes.

It was too bloody; the battlefield must be even more gruesome.

Perhaps it was because my father saw early on that I wasn't suited for the battlefield that he kept me away from the army.

Tyrion was very patient: "You are still focusing your attention on the gore of the scene, but I must tell you, all of this is essentially a means of governance."

"Crabb is one of the very few nobles I know who values the commoners. Perhaps it is a gift; at such a young age, he may have already grasped the essence of power."

"Oh, is, is that so?"

"Don't just spend your time drinking and making merry later; you can ask Crabb for advice on governance. This knowledge will all be helpful for your future path."

Lancel came back to his senses and nodded: "I understand, Tyrion."

Tyrion suddenly began to worry about the future of the Lannisters.

Jaime was too emotional; it seemed the only ones left in the Lannister family with brains were Tywin and himself.

Right, there was also Uncle Kevan.

Three brains might be enough, because the Lannisters had plenty of gold.

King's Landing, an alley in the Queens Quarter.

Mutton Waters raised his warhammer high, charged, and then swung it fiercely, the sound of shattering bone echoing repeatedly.

Anguy carefully adjusted his blue robe, picked up his bow, and nocked an arrow. As he pulled the bowstring into a full moon, with a whoosh, the sharp arrow pierced the neck of a burly man in the distance.

Mutton's warhammer smashed another enemy's head, spraying thick red gore everywhere.

Mutton and Anguy were secretly competing; for every one Mutton smashed, Anguy would immediately shoot one.

Mutton's shield moved with a thud, perfectly blocking a sword thrust from an enemy.

The enemy blocked by Mutton's shield felt his hands go numb, and could only watch helplessly as the warhammer descended, shattering his skull.

Of the dozen or so enemies, only the last two remained.

Mutton took a brief moment to gather his strength, launched a charge, and with a shield bash and a hammer swing, left behind two pools of blood.

Mutton panted heavily, sat down on a stone, and pulled up his helmet's visor: "Anguy, I killed one more than you, hehe."

When Mutton started his charge, Anguy had already guessed his intention and helplessly put away his bow and arrows.

Anguy walked with a frown, avoiding the bloodstains on the road, his brand-new brown leather boots remaining completely unstained.

Mutton stared at Anguy's actions with a dazed look and said naively: "Anguy, the clothes and boots will get dirty sooner or later."

Anguy walked to Mutton's side and carefully inspected his boots once more: "Mutton, don't mind me. This is the first time I've worn such fine robes."

"And these soft leather boots—do you know how comfortable my feet feel when I walk? I like them so much."

"By the Seven, you don't understand. In my experience, only nobles could dress like this, and yet this is actually my soldier's uniform."

Compared to the clothes of the nobility, the blue soldier's robes of Crabb's men were several grades lower in dyeing technique and material; it was mainly Anguy's lack of experience that led to this beautiful misunderstanding.

Appearance is a form of combat power, and Gryn placed great importance on the aesthetics and uniformity of his soldiers' attire.

Coming from a commoner background and having lived the life of a vagrant mercenary, this was the first time in Anguy's life he had worn such formal and handsome clothing.

Mutton said with a foolish grin, "Everyone goes through this; you'll get used to it after a while. We all wore gray robes before, and only recently switched to blue."

Anguy scratched the back of his head and said sheepishly, "It might take me a little longer to get used to it."

Seeing that Anguy was interested in these garments, Mutton added, "Let's kill a few more today, but we need to be quick. There aren't many mercenaries who snuck in. Since you're the Lord's personal guard, if you perform well today, you might get the cloak embroidered with the Crabb Crest early."

Anguy's eyes lit up. "How come I haven't seen it? Do you have one?"

Mutton nodded vigorously with a silly smile.

Anguy asked in confusion, "Then why haven't I ever seen your cloak?"

Mutton chuckled and replied, "I'm worried about tearing it, so unless there's an order, I can't bear to wear it."

Anguy nodded in agreement. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go! Didn't you say there aren't many of them left?"

"Yeah, I heard from Leyton there were only 100 to begin with; not enough for us to split."

"Right, it's affecting my performance. Say... what does the cloak look like? Can I see yours when we get back?"

Mutton secured his warhammer and said, "It's blue, with a Marsh Marigold embroidered on it. The flower is huge. If you like it, you can borrow mine to wear first."

"Then let me buy you a drink? Ah, I'm truly broke right now, let's wait until I get my military pay."

"Just kill a few more. After the fighting is done, you can trade the head count for wine, or money."

"Who wants money? Wine is the only choice, of course. Mutton, let's start running!"