╔═══ Author's note ════╗
Sycophant (noun): a person who flatters or praises someone powerful or important in an insincere way, usually to gain advantage.
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There were two training ships anchored on the ground and Lucian was on one of them.
The ship was long and narrow, built specifically for ramming and close-quarters boarding.
The deck was made of sturdy planks, the rails and the mast could be easily dismantled to minimize damage during a ramming attack.
It had no sails and relied on a large crew of rowers to move forward.
The other was a merchant ship, which was taller in height, had more sails, and was built for carrying cargo.
"Will do," Lord A's saluted, surprised but also not surprised by his boss having connection with the black market, "Is it another test to see if I will try to look for an antidote for myself? I swear to you, Boss, I will not! Please do not lose trust in me for my past failures."
"Nothing like that, though how can you be fine with that thing being injected into your body?" Lucian wondered, thinking Lord A's might be a little sick in the head. "I would have done anything to get it out of me."
"It's the sense of belonging, Boss. I never had that in my life," Lord A's smiled. His hat shadowed his eyes, only revealing his lower face, "I will be your man until my last breath. You can count on me."
That was a disturbing declaration of loyalty.
Lucian slapped Lord A's back, making him stumble forward, "Your bootlicking needs work. It was so sappy, it hurt my teeth."
Lord A's laughed, not taking offense to the comment, "That's what I'm here for, Boss. To make everyone's teeth hurt with my loyalty, don't I? An exemplary Vice should do his job properly."
He looked at the group of ferals and shouted, "Did you hear that? You too should learn from my example!"
The ferals roared back in agreement, showing their loyalty to their boss as well.
"I'm looking forward to seeing the results then," Lucian observed Lord A's outer appearance once again. Acting shameless was a part of it.
That was how Lord A's managed to survive his father's cruelty, despite lacking the skill to match him. Not smart enough to outwit him, not skilled enough to outfight him. So, he bootlicked his way through life, becoming the perfect sycophant.
Voice thought it was a cowardly way to live, but Lucian saw the benefits of it. Nobody thought of improving Lord A's talent and that was their mistake in Lucian's opinion.
Natural rhetorics were so hard to come by, and Lord A's had it in spades. He just had to polish his skillset, and he would become an indispensable asset.
Lucian was happy to provide the opportunity for growth, as long as the results kept coming his way.
Lucian kept his expectations low, however. Just like how he could betray Seline and Celine's trust if under the right conditions, his Vices could do the same to him.
Even if he wished there to be no disputes between his Vices, he still made them hold a distance between each other.
They held a lot of power in their hands, so it was only logical for Lucian to prevent them from colluding against him. They might get a little too comfortable with their positions, thinking they could be equal to Lucian.
He wondered about how he should keep reminding them of that without coming off as paranoid.
Lucian didn't want to keep proving himself over and over, or act all high and mighty by instilling fear. A repeated reminder through Lord A's behavior would make sure the message got across in a less taxing way.
Didn't the church reach the masses through similar methods? Praising themselves, bragging about their kindness and generosity, pushing their agenda through rhetoric means, and influencing people's thoughts without lifting a sword? Superstition, faith, and propaganda.
That's Lord A's true mission. Not to lead the feral army in sea battles. The moment Lucian got a hand on better captain candidates, Lord A's would be relieved of his duty and given a more fitting job.
Lucian grabbed a practice sword from the barrel and climbed to the deck of the merchant ship next, where dozens of ferals were complaining about wanting to leave the ship. Lord A's followed behind him.
"Master! The captain said we can't leave the ship!"
Around a hundred ferals were already under the effect of cabin fever.
"We want to go play!" They whined, some lunged over the deck, hitting the wooden railing with their fists. "We want to run in the sand, master! It's too cramped in here!"
They looked like overgrown children, complaining about being forced to sit still. Their growls and roars sounded like pouty whines to Lucian's ears.
"We can't even fight each other!" another one joined in the chorus, "They are so loud, master, we can't even sleep! Can we at least kill the loud snores?"
The loud snores were also on the ship, shouting back in retaliation, "Kill us?! We will kill you! You all stink, we can't breathe!"
Some had their heads out of the portholes, others were crawling on the deck like crabs, but all were irritated, and ready to snap at anyone who approached them.
Lord A's was losing control of the merchant ship, and Lucian had to intervene.
He turned toward the ferals and hit the practice sword on the deck, making a loud thud, "I'm extending your training for another week."
"NOOOO!" The ferals cried in despair, some even fell to their knees, "Master, have mercy!"
"Your enemy on the sea will not show you any mercy. Do you think they care about your comfort?" Lucian walked around, looking at the pitiful faces around him. "They won't. They will do everything in their power to make your life hell. Or would you rather become scapegoats in the war, like the ferals before you? Thrown to the front line to become meat shields for the regular soldiers? Is that what you want?!"
The ferals growled, baring their teeth, shaking their heads. They were here to be free, not to be used as shields, but this training was as good as being in a cage.