[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220814/c5ba6361ddfa686af8da069b54d627e7.png[/img][/center] [color=6ecff6][i]Follow orders. Don't die.[/i][/color] He'd failed. As he lay there staring up at the bandit who would deliver the young knight's death, he did not think he might be able to kick his attacker and put him off balance. He didn't think that he could draw one of the throwing knives strapped around his person. He didn't even think to try and move. He'd resigned himself to failure and death, and wondered what his mother and father would think of his efforts. Would they be proud he at least tried to continue on and make something of his life? As fast as this thought process was, he didn't get a chance to ponder his question. [color=A0A0A0]"For Reon! For the Roses!"[/color] A blur of glinting metal crossed his vision and suddenly, the bandit who was about to kill him was but a headless corpse collapsing in a heap. Lucas could only gasp in a mix of both wonder and horror. It was Sir Fleuri. [color=A0A0A0]"I trust you'll be more careful in the future, Sir Lucas,"[/color] Fleuri remarked as he glanced around looking for any other bandits that might be nearby. Lucas blinked twice, trying to find his voice. He'd almost forgotten that he was stood right next to the black-armoured knight ere the battle had begun. Ironically, Sir Fleuri had in fact been one of the many things that'd filled Lucas' head with the idea of romantic valour and knightly deeds. As a young lad, his circus troupe had come to a city, name long forgotten, on the same day as an annual tourney event. Lucas remembered, if nothing else, the black knight - [i]The Flower of the North[/i], they called him at the time - besting the competition. Harold Storm, Lucas' father had said to his son that the black knight was fast to act and nearly always put his opponents on their back foot, thus commanding the pace of the fight and never allowing his opponent to employ their own strategy. That's why he won. Lucas, a mere child, could only marvel at the skill. It was indeed ironic, that Sir Fleuri: Flower of the North, had showed him how beautiful melee combat could be... and now he was showing him just how ugly it could be - the headless corpse, gushing blood from the neck, beside him. [color=A0A0A0]"Are you wounded?"[/color] Lucas dragged his eyes away from the corpse and finally found his voice. [color=6ecff6]"Y-y-yes,"[/color] he assured the older knight. [color=6ecff6]"I mean no, I-I'm fine. I'm not hurt."[/color] He got to his feet, about to declare his gratitude when the massive explosion of light and sound made him recoil and put his hands to his ears. His eyes went to the site of Alodia's [i]Thunderstrike[/i] and saw the unfortunate bandits who'd took the full brunt of the magical attack. Then he saw his sword on the forest floor, not far away from his own position. [color=6ecff6]"Thanks,"[/color] he said to Fleuri. A piss-poor response, Lucas felt, for someone who'd just saved his life at the last possible second, but there was a battle to complete. [color=6ecff6]"I owe you one."[/color] And with that, he went after his sword. Fortunately, between Morianne's song sowing dismay and discord among the enemy, and the absolute superiority of the knights in the order, his path was unhindered. His blood was still raging, his heartbeat threatening to burst his eardrums as he swiped up his weapon and ran toward the feeble positions of the remaining bandits. There were few left, and the full weight of the Iron Rose regiment had smashed into them. A memory flashed through Lucas' mind as he advanced on the fighting; an off-the-cuff remark from Senior Knight Tyaethe Radistirin she made in passing, one time. [i]'Hit them where they're not looking,'[/i] she'd said. Lucas ran in a direction past one knight engaging a bandit, then turned into the flank of the duel and ran his sword into the armpit of the bandit, who howled in pain for a split-moment before being dispatched by the Iron Rose knight in front. He slashed the legs of another shield-bearing bandit already engaged, resulting in another quick loss of life. His movements were unmolested as the numbers advantage snowballed, and Lucas forced himself to enjoy the fact that they were winning, even if his vision was filled with an untold number of brutal deaths. There was no chance for the enemy to flee, but one in Lucas' sights did try. [color=6ecff6]"Don't let any of them flee!"[/color] he recited the Knight-Captain's orders to himself, although much too loud that it might have been mistaken for the young man trying to give orders. His armour was light in comparison to most of his allies, and Lucas was already incredibly nimble and fleet of foot. He chased down the fleeing bandit easily, and kicked his trailing leg across, forcing his enemy to trip himself. The bandit tumbled to the floor and the raging young knight dove upon him, driving his sword with all his weight, straight through the back of the cuirass belonging to his enemy. Another cry of agony was released into the din, quickly lost in the air. Gritted teeth, all but growling, Lucas rose up, planted a foot on the bandit and yanked his sword free. Yet another cry. But the last sword thrust was the killing blow and his enemy was silenced. He looked around for any more foes and realised that the battle was over. There were a scant few ambushers being promptly overwhelmed. None had managed to get away that the junior knight could see. Nevertheless, Lucas rushed back to the bulk of the Iron Roses, close enough to Captain Fanilly that he could hear her next orders. "Ease the suffering of the dying," she ordered. Ease the suffering of the dying? Did she mean...? "Bind any survivors and take them prisoner. If they have any information, do your best to extract it from them." The last part, he understood. But he didn't quite understand how he, with little knowledge of the healing arts, could help the dying... [color=goldenrod]"Right, ma'am."[/color] Lucas' head turned sharply to that familiar voice. He watched Sir Gerard intently as the man roamed among the dead. It was starting to dawn on him what his orders actually were, and perhaps, if it was just denial that was keeping him in the dark, the knight he idolised was about to make it clear. [color=goldenrod]"To whatever rest you've earned. Reon'll show you."[/color] Gerard delivered a solemn killing blow to the wounded bandit. Lucas shuddered. His battle-rage had gone, his heart calmed down, and he began to take it all in. The results of their work. A mass loss of life. The smell. By Reon, [i]the taste![/i] The sight. He didn't know how to feel, but he'd gotten his orders. He knew what he had to do. Many were doing the same as Gerard, scouring the battlefield. With the blood of another man all over his face - and in his ears, he could feel it - all over his arms and hands, Lucas steeled himself and joined in. Walking about the dead-strewn forest floor was like a something out of a nightmare. A knight beside him stabbed a corpse just to make sure it was indeed dead. It was sickening, but Lucas now sought to do the same. He thrust his blade into corpse after corpse, all of them already dead. The smell was as revolting as the act of stabbing a corpse. It felt wrong, somehow, and he didn't have the wit - in this current environment - to see why it was necessary. He didn't have the wit for anything right now. It was all he could do to simply carry out his orders and not vomit while doing so. He and the rest of the corpse checkers seemed finished after a spell, and Lucas, (who originally thought to make his way to Sir Fleuri, in order to give a real thank you plus an apology for running out of formation and requiring rescue,) followed the loud and positively obnoxious voice of the troubadour, Morianne. Her colourful language was doing some really heavy lifting to lighten the mood, and Lucas felt like listening to her musical voice would stop him from emptying his dinner onto the ground. He arrived in close proximity as her song ended, and watched as she interrogated the bandit. "Now," Morianne grabbed the bandit by the chin, "would you be a darling and help a fine lady like me out? I just want to know what Jeremiah has planned for the Iron Rose Knights. If you tell me, I just might give you a kiss." Lucas felt blood rush to his cheeks. He knew she was simply playing a role to get the information but he couldn't help but think that her charm would probably (definitely) work on him. Quite a few of the female knights in the Order were attractive - even some of the more butch ones like Serenity, certainly could not be called ugly, however manly they acted - but Morianne was perhaps the easiest on the eyes. In spite of her bitchiness at times, she had that quality that all good bards had: An inexorable amount of charm. And she'd turned it on for the bandit, who, judging by his face, was like putty in her hands. Lucas looked around to take note of the Cecilia and Hope's position as they started on their scouting mission, hoping to reorient himself and remember the direction of the bandit camp. Then his attention was firmly back on the interrogation, with an ear out for any further orders Knight-Captain Fanilly might give.