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As sudden as the stress came the stress left him. This situation was indeed a modestly dangerous one for a Peasant like him but did this Nobleman really want to strike out against Lucian? He was indeed out of line but not for his reasoning.
“I…” Lucian felt a small dryness in his mouth but kept it down, “My apologies my Lord. I am training today for by growing my strength my weapon shall strike true. If it strikes true than it shall honor to the Duke who took me in and Bretonnia itself.”
“Honor? You speak of honor as if you know it?” The man barked with a fierceness equal to a lion, “A peasant like you is able to honor my Father? Do not make me laugh peasant, such is a lie.”
Lucian held back a gasp as the truth was told to him. Of who was upon him in this moment and what authority the person had.
“And my Father taking in a Peasant? Do not make me laugh my Father would not have stooped so low.” The Nobleman said as the point of the weapon slowly poked into the shoulder of Lucian.
The Peasant felt a small push from the weapon. A simple gesture that should have knocked him off his balance and sent him to the ground below. He did not though. He could feel the push ebb away as Lucian’s feet kept themselves secured upon the ground with strength he did not know he had.
He could sense then the disappointment of the ducal prince as such a gesture of might did not give him what he wanted. There might have been another push of might but it was interupted by the words of another.
“Gillot, your brother took pity upon one soul.” A voice that Lucian recognized slightly came though, “This one is the survivor of Verac.”
“The Heir of Ruin Verac?” The words rang out of Prince Gillot’s voice with humor imbedded in each syllable, “Surely you are jesting, Lucqin. This thing?”
“I do not. It is him if a little more cleaned up.” The Knight’s words seemed to be drawn and annoyed. Lucian did not need to be told that the Knight did not truly agree with the words of the Duke.
