"No excuses," Sir Claude said and also joined the run, slashing at them with a wooden stick from time to time, making sure they didn't slack off, "Lord Arclight has provided you with the best equipment. Don't disappoint him with the mediocre results."
"..." The group exchanged a look and then sighed, "Yes, Boss."
"No boss here," Sir Claude said and was about to hit their backs, "It's Yes, My Lord."
Lucian caught the stick in his hand, "Boss is fine, Sir Claude," he said, "They've earned the right to call me that. You should respect the hierarchy in the gang when you are in it," he said, "Pretence can wait until we have a reason to use it."
"As you wish, My Lord." Sir Claude bowed his head, "I'm only trying to help you. You are too soft on them."
The group of men suddenly spat to the side and surrounded the knight. "Keep provoking our Boss, and you'll end up in the ditch," one of the members said. The rest nodded with fire in their eyes, "We'll kick your ass if you call our Boss soft again, you hear?"
Sir Claude raised his eyebrow, not backing down from the challenge. The tension was rising, and Lucian was watching it from the sidelines.
The moment they were far enough from the Rochefort estate and deep enough in the forest, the goofy group turned into a bunch of brutes. In a blink of an eye, they had Sir Claude on the ground, kicking his body, "What are you gonna do now, huh? Call your Lord for help? Show us your knightly aura now, you snob bastard." they taunted him, "Don't think that just because Boss took you in that you are one of us. You ain't. So stay in your place, you little shit."
Sir Claude was getting a good beating on top of what he received yesterday, but still fought back. Not like a knight, but a cornered rat, using everything he could find to hit back, but he was outnumbered and his injuries slowed him down.
"You won't be able to defeat the Crown Prince at this rate, Sir Claude," Lucian sighed and stepped forward, "I'm not soft. I'm just making sure that you'll be in top shape when it matters. Looking down on my people is not something I appreciate, even if it is to toughen them up."
Sir Claude was able to stand on his feet, "My Lord." he said, wiping his bruised nose as he tried to stand straight. "Forgive me."
The group took a few steps back, their secret language with their Boss didn't go unnoticed by Sir Claude either. They had their own system, and their Boss didn't need to say a word to convey his message. He'd just give them a look, and they knew what he wanted them to do.
"Take turns carrying Sir Claude," Lucian ordered, taking out his pocket watch, "Each one of you will carry him for five minutes, then pass him on to the next."
Huh? Huuuh?
Sir Claude was about to protest, but AL lifted him on his shoulders, and he had to hold onto him to not fall down.
"Ughh, heavy," AL complained and then passed Sir Claude on to the next one. Sir Claude was getting thrown left and right, up and down. His ribs hurt, and he felt like throwing up. It was worse than getting beaten.
Lucian proved to Sir Claude that his group was not to be looked down upon. And it was Sir Claude's turn to prove that he was not to be looked down upon by them, either.
Claude didn't realize how he must have come off to the group. In his mind, he was just a knight doing his job. In their minds, he was an asshole, a prick, and an outsider that was only tolerated because the Boss said so.
Lucian was their leader, and they were his people, whether Sir Claude liked it or not. They were not just a gang of rascals that happened to follow the same man. They were carefully picked over the years. Some were found on the streets, others were from the same church where Lucian grew up. Some ran away from their families, and some lost theirs. They all had different stories, but the same goal: To not be the prey anymore.
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Gallops of hooves echoed from a distance, and the group stopped running, giving each other curious glances.
They approached the road. Armed soldiers came into view, their mighty horses trotting alongside the trees in a line. There was a carriage at the end of the line, and the crest on it was none other than the Duke of Rochefort's. The curtains were drawn closed, and only the silhouette of the person inside the carriage could be seen.
"Who?" One of the soldiers pointed his crossbow at them, only to see panting men, covered in sweat, "State your business in the Rochefort Forest."
The effect the army had on Lucian's men was immediate: submissiveness and obedience. Their eyes darted towards him for guidance.
"Lord Arclight?" A familiar voice called out from the front, and the rest of the soldiers cleared the path for the man, who approached on a horse, "What are you doing here?"
Lucian stepped forward, "Commander, it is a pleasure to meet you here. I did not think that I would be seeing you again so soon."
The Commander nodded and got off the horse, "Likewise, My Lord. What brought you to Rochefort's forest?"
Lucian motioned at his people, "Digesting, Sir. The breakfast was a bit heavy on the stomach, and the fresh air is a perfect complement," he looked back, "I was informed that your arrival was expected in the evening, but you seem to be a few hours early. Did something happen?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to see my precious daughter, sooner than later," a deep voice answered in the commander's stead, and the carriage door opened. A man stepped outside, and the rest of the soldiers saluted him, "A fine morning to you, Lord Arclight."