Lucien, as he got off the wooden carriage, took out his midnight blue scarf he carried within his pockets and brought it up to his face, covering his face half, and tied it behind his head so that only his eyes were visible. He navigated through the crowd with a calm, unbroken stride, slicing through the mass of bodies like a knife. The sheer and strong presence of his aura was enough to make people naturally move out of his way, creating a path for him without consciously knowing why.
Rowan, who was standing beside the carriage, swore, "Shit." He uttered it as soon as he caught sight of his master marching right up to the commotion, straight into the storm. Now, there was nothing for it.
"Damn it…"
Tucking a pale yellow cloth over his face to cover it with a makeshift mask, Rowan dashed after him.
All of this because he hadn't stopped his master in time; he should have remained silent. They should have turned a blind eye to the brutality. But the instant he laid eyes on the woman, recollections from his past tore through his thoughts,his mind, compelling his body to act before his mind could keep pace.
And now Lucien was in it.
Rowan knew better than to try and stop him. If he attempted it, he would only be rewarded with a cold stare or, if he got too close to pushing his luck, maybe a better reward that a stare, A sharp instruction to stand down. So he had no other option but to go along.
Lucien, on the other hand, hardly noticed Rowan standing at his side. His attention was elsewhere.
The crisp snaps of leather on skin still rang through the air, each one accompanied by a stifled whimper from the woman on the ground, but the crowd surrounding them were all normal men and women of the capital, who had no power to do a thing.
No gasps, no winces, not even turned heads would help innocents if people would be so, just standing and witnessing the violence.
Lucien's keen eyes surveyed the crowd faces; they were blank and distant. Some huddled together and muttered, but no one came forward. It wasn't that they didn't care. It was that they'd learned not to.
Had the capital shifted that much in the short period of a few weeks he'd been gone?
Lucien kept walking and the space between him and the soldiers narrowed with each pace.
The instant he arrived at the front, the whip descended again..and was about to land at the intended place.
But it never touched.
Lucien's naked fist shot out, closing around the leather strap inches from its impact on the woman's raw, bleeding flesh, and thus a shared breath caught in mid-air.
The soldier who had been holding the whip pulled at it, attempting to wrest it from Lucien's grip. "Let go."
Lucien didn't budge. Instead, he leaned his head to one side, then shook it. "No."
The soldier ground his jaw; now clearly agitated, he grinded his teeth while ordering Lucien. "I said...let go."
But Lucien didn't move; his grip was unyielding and calm, and not even a twinge of stress flashed on his face. But then he did something that no one expected.
He kneeled.
"Please," he spoke, his voice dropping. "Let this woman go. My child fainted watching this."
Rowan, who had been poised to intervene, almost fell.
My Master is... begging? Rowan's eyes twitched at the scene in front of him.
Lucien kept his head dipped just low enough to seem desperate but not low enough to actually bow. His hands shook minutely; it was a performance all too genuine.
"She saw this and thought of her mother," he went on. "She collapsed from fright."
A few whispers came from the crowd. Some even glanced around to see if they could catch sight of the 'child' whose father is begging and spoke to them about.
The soldier scoffed. "Your child? That's not my problem. Stand aside. O you will be adding up to your child's sorrow by being dead."
Lucien's grip on the whip tightened.
The soldier let out an exasperated huff before bringing up the leather strap again.
This time, though, Lucien refused to let him.
As soon as the whip was in motion, Lucien's hold cinched. In a smooth motion, he wrapped the leather around his wrist by moving his hand, snatching the whip away from him before advancing.
The soldier was barely able to react before Lucien covered the distance.
Lucien's hand lashed out, clamping the man's collar in the same way the soldier attempted to do with Lucien. But unlike the soldier, Lucien did not hesitate.
His fist cracked the man's jaw in a vicious, sharp blow.
A grewsome crack reverberated through the street. The soldier reeled back, stunned. Blood trickled from his ruptured lip, his head whipping to the side as he stumbled.The audience gasped at the view; as such, they saw it for the first time.
Rowan used this opportunity to rush forward. He hurried to the woman, kneeling beside her, and brought his two fingers near her nose to see if she was still breathing. Her body was weak, her skin cold, but her chest still moved up and down weakly.
'She is alive...' Relief flashed in his eyes, but before he could pick her up, A second soldier intervened, slapping Rowan's arm aside.
The blow was powerful enough to shift Rowan's balance slightly, but worse was that it sent the woman's delicate form tumbling back to the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud, and whatever fragile consciousness she possessed disappeared entirely.
Rowan's anger flashed through his body and his face reddened.
His hold grew tight. He jumped forward to grasp the soldier's collar and punch his face until it would look like a racoon's feces. More soldiers were approaching, drawn by the commotion. They assumed this was just a brawl and that two men were foolishly challenging authority.
Lucien's movements remained smooth as he took down one after another soldier... then another. Three men fell before they could even counterattack but this wasn't enough.