As Rook and Leo turned, their eyes widened in surprise. "My lord!" Leo exclaimed, and both he and Rook immediately dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in a gesture of profound respect. The gesture was so immediate, so ingrained, it was like a reflex. Karl was taken aback. His minions rarely knelt, unless something of immense significance had occurred. The last time was when he had created them, and even then, their awe was more curious than reverent.
"Stand up," Karl commanded. Leo and Rook rose, still radiating a palpable sense of awe and apology, their forms rigid with deference.
"What's with the theatrics?" Karl asked, genuinely confused. He saw the action as an inefficiency, a waste of movement.
"It's humiliating to have you save us, my lord," Rook said, his voice uncharacteristically humble. His pride as a fighter was bruised by their defeat and subsequent rescue.
"We truly apologize," Leo added, his usual slick composure gone. "If it wasn't for you, we would've—"
