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The walk was long, but it was not nearly as draining as the long march that the Knights had placed them all through earlier. Their Masters, the Dukes of Bordeleaux and Bastonne, must have reasoned that now that they were on the hunt that it was not wise to force one’s force to commit to such a draining forced march.
Lucian took another glance at the fields around him. No longer was it the luscious vineyards and farms that dotted the majority of Aquitaine and Bordeleaux but instead several hills and valleys that contained the peasants within.
“Lucian.”
The words sliced through the air and reached the Peasant Squire in an instant. Lucian looked towards the carriage to see the aged Knight leaning out with a resolve that was once lacking.
“We will start your lessons now. Come.” And with those words he disappeared back into the carriage.
Lucian glanced at Adok to which the dwarf gave him a small sigh, “Go in Umgi, I’ll keep on marching no matter how much my legs start to hurt.”
With the permission given Lucian walked towards the carriage and opened the door. He felt a small pulse of pain as he lifted his whole body into the carriage. The wounds still yet to have matured into the scars that Lucian knew he would have.
The inside of the carriage was black with a false gold trimming. The cushions of the seats caused Lucian to feel a spoke of relieving pains from all the walking he had to do. Yet, despite this, he knew that they were far below the quality that someone like Count Remon would have experienced.
Such was because this was no Nobleman’s cart but that of Morr’s cult. A series of ravens decorated the cart only adding to their claim of ownership. What the issue was is that these cushions were not meant for Nobleman, and were thus made of inferior stuffing and pig’s skin.
Remon did not show any discomfort as he stood straight up and proper. He looked upon Lucian with an appraising eye before declaring, “Straighten your back, look into my eyes, lift your chin away from your chest.”
“Y-yes sir!” Lucian did as he was told in an instant.
“From this point forward you will do that when meeting Nobles. You are my Squire and actor upon the battlefield, and thus you carry an equivalent rank of Count. Only to the Dukes shall you cower as you have.” He said before tapping his finger on the oak wood that was dyed black.
