Lucian sent Lord A's away to work on his speechcraft and reflect on his defeat (he just lost 100 men in a sparring match). Lucian was sure not to make Lord A's lead an army into a battle in the future. A man who had no idea how to use his men would not be fit to lead them.
Then he continued to question himself more than the ferals, "You can't outsmart them, you are too stupid. You can't outmaneuver them, they are too fast. You can't overpower them, they are too strong. You can't sneak up on them, their senses are too sharp. So, what is left for you?"
The ferals blinked at Lucian, waiting for an answer. They were all agitated, having no idea how he had managed to enter their mindspace and make them submit, but losing him now would be like losing a piece of themselves.
That was how bonds were formed between the beast and the master. Their connection persisted even after Lucian was no longer in their mindspace, which made him think it was due to the astral plane.
These beasts were more proficient than him in using the astral plane, despite their lack of knowledge. Intuitively using it, instead of knowing how it worked. Like being able to breathe without knowing the process of respiration.
"Master?" They called out, their eyes glued on him, "How do we defeat a stronger opponent in a fight?"
Lucian went through the rack of weapons and chose a bow and an arrow. "Choose your temporary master. The one who you think is most likely to deal a final blow as you devote yourself to opening a way for him."
The ferals looked at each other and started forming groups of five among themselves.
He nocked an arrow into the bow while waiting for them to group up. He pulled the string back, aiming at Blocky, the training dummy, and let the arrow fly. The wooden tip hit the dummy, but the force was not enough to make it stick. The arrow fell to the ground, rolling away.
Lucian shot a few more arrows, figuring out how its use would fare in the sea, and found it not working in his favor.
He was trying out various weapons to get a feel for them and their limitations. Recalling the fight, he put himself in his ferals' shoes and what he would have done if he was fighting his clone as a group of ferals.
He saw many sacrifices being made in order to stop him, and the heavy losses.
They've trained under various Vices until now. Learned their fighting style and their way of thinking. The Vices learned how to lead them, and the ferals learned how to follow.
The different point of view allowed Lucian to see the blind spots in his Vices' leadership, their strengths and weaknesses. His Vices got an opportunity to grow with the ferals too.
"Ready?" Lucian put the bow aside on its stand, offering his hand to the nearest feral.
The feral looked at the offered hand and hesitated before taking it.
Lucian pulled him up, then looked at the others.
"Those who will adapt, rise! Those who can't, fall behind!"
His usual mantra made the ferals grunt in acknowledgement, their spirits rising once again.
The ferals got up, some limping, some still clutching their stomachs as they climbed back on the ship. They were not the ones who would ever give up easily.
Their training commenced, and Lucian started testing the astral plane by trying to enter their minds without their death as a bridge.
He sent one simple intention to the first group of five: Raise your left hand.
Nothing happened.
Another attempt, another failure.
"Open your minds to me," he ordered.
They stared at him in confusion.
"Imagine a hole in your head, and only me can pass through it," Lucian tried to explain it in simple terms.
The ferals looked at each other and tried to follow his instructions, but none of them raised their hands. Instead, a few of them looked dizzy and held their heads.
"It's not working," one of them whined, "It hurts."
It seemed like some were better at it than others.
"Alright, gather around," Lucian clapped his hands, leaving the astral plane training for later, "We are going to try something new."
Lucian had no choice but to explain the strategy in words and demonstrate it with his body, unable to believe that he was about to expose his own weaknesses to them.
It was like playing chess against himself, except the pieces had a mind of their own and didn't always let him move them the way he wanted.
Winning wouldn't teach him anything. He wanted to lose, so he could see the flaws in his plans and improve on them. And for that, he would have to put his shoes on the other side of the fence.
"You," Lucian grabbed the head of the biggest feral, "Battle cry."
The feral raised his head and let out a roar that made the deck tremble.
"Again." Lucian placed his hand over his ears, "Let me hear your battle cry!"
"GRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" the feral screamed, and the other ferals covered their ears and winced at the volume. "GRAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
Lucian nodded, satisfied. "You are going to be the distraction. Make noise, run around, and draw attention to yourself. Train your voice until you can make their ears bleed."
"HAHA!" The big feral laughed, flexing his muscles, "I will make them deaf!"
"What about our ears?!" The other ferals protested.
"HAHA! GRAAAAAAH!" He ignored them and began to practice his battle cry again.
The others had to plug their ears to protect their hearing.
Lucian clutched his stomach and tried to stop himself from laughing, his shoulders shaking from the effort.
It was a mess, one they were not going to get used to any time soon. After all the discipline and order they had learned from the Vices, this must have been a shock to them.