Author's Note:
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This is the penultimate chapter for this Mini-Arc, which means y'all get a small one chapter taste of the next arc after the current arc's finale chapter after this one as a way to cap the batch of five.
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(Winterfell, The North, Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, Westeros, GoT Universe)
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(Lucion Lannister POV)
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The time for mother to depart had come, and yet?
Lucion couldn't lie, he hadn't really been focusing on the human aspect of being fostered. Only now as he kissed and hugged mother goodbye did it dawn on him that for essentially the next six plus years his only communication with mother was to be through Ravens.
Huh...Ravens.
Why was a Crow the Sigil of the Nights Watch? Can't be because of the cloaks.
Anyway, it was food for thought, just not right now.
Right now, he was busy suffering.
Mother wanted a lesson to be taught to him, so she had Tygett train him. Damned if he wasn't doing everything short of trying to kill Lucion. There was a reason Tygett - before his canonical death - was Tywin's best General.
Uncle Tyg was a bit of a blunt instrument, but he wasn't Jar Jar Binks and a Warhammer in a China shop like Clegane was.
There were three types of people when it came to definition as a Scalpel like instrument.
Just as there were three types of people who could be defined as a Blunt Instrument.
You had your Type-1 Scalpels, people who were useful up until the point they betrayed you and got so good killing them was more trouble than it was worth. You killed these fuckers' ear to ear quick.
Then there was your Type-2 Scalpels, these were Instruments who were difficult to control, strictly because they knew exactly how useful they were and how to keep themselves alive. However, there were two variations to this type, so say a Type-2 Grade 1? Littlefinger fits this mold. A T2G1 Scalpel will...yeah if Littlefinger fits the mold explanation is really unnecessary. So, a T2G2 Scalpel is not too different, except unlike their counterparts they typically don't have an agenda that will be problematic long-term. Short-term? That's another story, but it isn't necessarily an issue.
Then there were your Type-3 Scalpels, individuals who were loyal and lacked motivation to become a Type-2 or Typ-1. And yet could be as deadly as a Faceless Man if handled by a steady and calculative hand.
As far as Blunt Instruments went? You could sum them up by weapon types.
In Order:
Mace.
Claymore.
Trebuchet.
Instruments classified under a Mace were essentially a hybrid mix of best and worst. So, for example, Robert Baratheon was clearly a blunt instrument, and not just because of his damn hammer, but because if his antics in book and season 1 are an indication he lacks subtlety, he lacks patience, and he lacks the ability to force your enemies into your arena. Yet he has the ability to inspire and thus maintain some form of clarity of mind, but if blinded by a strong emotion is essentially more trouble than he's worth.
Claymores were individuals like Bronn, Sandor Clegane, Uncle Tygett, and Robb Stark. They lacked patience for playing the long game, but that was because they were essentially geniuses playing the short one. Bronn for instance was opportunistic, he knew when to cut his losses, but he also knew when it's better to wait for a better offer before going all in. In a siege this translated to being three things: Patient, Observant, and just plain Sensible.
A Person that Lucion would call a Trebuchet? His Father, his future youngest brother Tyrion, and his future niece Sansa. You didn't have to be a warrior or even male. But Trebuchets were individuals who excelled at the Long Game, they knew when to charge, and when to entrench and starve out. These were people who sat directly in the middle of Scalpel and Blunt Instrument.
Now it's worth noting, that Gregor Clegane is interesting because he doesn't really fit any of these molds nor those of the Scalpels - for obvious reasons. He has similarities but nothing that really fits. This is what Lucion would consider a Clock. Because the time will eventually come when control is no longer possible. Men and Women who were barely human, and more beast than human to start with. So, you just waiting for the clock to stop moving and then you'll know whomsoever is unlucky enough to be next to the person, is as good as dead.
That isn't to say such people aren't without their uses, it's just a matter of how long your able to use them before you end up getting metaphorically fucked.
Which Brings Lucion to Uncle Tygett's lesson.
He'd never formally began martial training, so this was an excuse given. Specifically giving him a small lesson of introduction to the Westerlands Martial Training.
Hog shit Lucion would call it, if just saying it wasn't likely to get him a beating of the earlobes from mother and a bruise on his ass from Uncle Tygett's sword.
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(POV Shift: Joanna Lannister)
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It was difficult, watching Tygett punish Lucion, but he couldn't be seen leaving like he did and not receiving a punishment of some kind.
The message it would send is extremely problematic.
It would cause the more powerful bannerman to doubt and see them as weak, which would in turn make them less likely to fear and respect Lucion. Seeing him as little more than a coddled child in a man's skin. The only thing more dangerous than a Lion was a Lion whose instincts were dulled and shaped by weak parenting and weaker training.
''For his first lesson, he fairs well.'' Says Genna beside her.
''Better than I expected.'' Joanna admits.
''He's still injured and yet manages to make Tyg trip over his own stance. Ty would be proud of Lucion, and disappointed in Tyg.'' Genna notes.
''Yes, he would. He would indeed.'' Says Joanna with a wry smile adorning her lips at the small fact.
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(POV Shift: Tygett Lannister)
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Tygett always did his duty, but this was absurd. Lucion needed a punishment, but it had to be an instructive one. Thus Joanna had him teach his nephew a brief introduction to Westerlands Combat forms.
For the first half hour it was fine. But Lucion began to adapt, completely out maneuvering and outperforming his own movements, redirecting and causing his usually perfectly rooted stance and footwork to become his greatest enemy.
His nephew gave as good as he got, Tygett decided to end it.
A swift fist to temple should work.
But what he didn't expect was for his nephew to abandon his sword altogether and somehow pin him to the ground in a way that getting through meant breaking his arm.
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(POV Shift: Lucion Lannister)
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Lucion took advantage of his uncle's armor, by using an MMA Submission which made the only means of escape to dislocate his shoulder. His armor was the key.
Every shot that Lucion allowed his uncle to land was to allow him to deliver a precision tap against the weak points in his armor. Lannister Armor made any straight up Submission impossible unless you delivered surgical precision strikes against the places were the Plates overlapped, loosening them just ever so slightly.
Allowing him to perform a slingblade wrestling maneuver to slip into a twist that caused the plate burdened Tygett to come falling backwards.
Which made the pinning if Uncle Tyger's arms too easy, because whose focusing on that when they come crashing back.... with their own Dagger against their throat after they're Down?
''I believe I've won. Congratulations Uncle Tygett, your manhood has shrunk.'' Says Lucion cheekily, as he released as Uncle and stands up, tapping his neck and nodding at Tygett who finds a small nick against his neck, his otherwise clean gauntlets smeared with some of his own blood.
''Aye, victory is yours in this spar. But in real battle...''
'"You would be dead and not me Uncle. I'll tell you why in ten years.'' With not another word, Lucion turns on his boot and strides away, flashing a dashing Gerion-like smile to his mother and Aunt, before smiling softly at Lyanna as he turns his head.
Thank you, Uncle Kane, for teaching Lucion how to kick his father's ass in his now long past previous life. It came in handy, especially as it gave his old self a springboard into learning other forms of Martial arts and Combat-Styles....
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