Lancelot's eyes rested on Leon, it was unreadable and cold as forged steel. Inside, however, a single thought drifted through his mind. 'What a tiresome youth… prideful to the point of arrogance. Someone like him wouldn't last a day in the Imperial Guards.' To Lancelot, Leon was still a child, a talented one, yes, but a child all the same.
With a motion as effortless as a sigh, he lifted his hand. The invisible chains binding James and his squad dissolved into sparks. Their bodies dropped, only to be caught midair, suspended briefly, and lowered gently to the ground at Leon's side.
James stumbled forward, the moment his boots touched dirt, and bolted toward Leon like a man desperate to cling to his anchor. His words spilled out in a rush.
"Lord, I didn't tell him anything about you! He tracked where we came from himself!"
Leon placed a steady hand on James's shoulder, his touch quieting the man more effectively than words. "It's okay. You and your squad should rest today."
