His blade was basic, however, nothing special about it. The hilt was red, and the pommel had a roaring lion, the Lord needed no great sword in battle.
His uncle would have around 1,000 men, in an open field. Lancel would bring 5,000, and planned to overwhelm them with the numbers. The last time he visited his dear Uncle, the soldiers had poorly made helms, Spears forged from cheap wood and rusted tips. It would not surprise Lancel if once he and his Lannister Army came to battle, the men would drop their weapons and turn tail, leaving his dear old Uncle defenseless. The thought of his Uncle shitting himself as he walked into his keep with little difficulty brought a smile on his face.
He rode out, leading his men towards his uncle's lands, near Ashemark. His father wasn't stupid when it came to giving land to his Uncle. His Uncle was older, but during a dispute between his Uncle and Lancel' grandfather, he gave up his claim to the Rock. His fat
