The sun was low in the sky, the heat of the day finally receding and reaching a temperature where training was bearable. Yet, sweat was gleaming of the bare skin of the men training in the yard. Jacob was leaning against the edge of a table studying them where they went against each other in pairs, practising fist fighting. The Rooks had come a long way. He could see the technique was setting in, they were blocking and countering efficiently, not just circling each other and throwing stray punches as they had in the beginning. Jacob watched with satisfaction as John broke off a pair of newcomers, pointing out the errors they had made, improving the stance of one and showing the other how to follow through in the punch. Training was much easier when not all was relying on him to make corrections.

Tom was fighting a new recruit, a long, lean fellow about the same age as Jacob. He was making himself noticed, quick in reflexes and light on the foot, making him hard to tackle. The lad knew it, took pride in being the better fighter. However, Jacob had noted how he selected his opponents, casually trying to pick men he knew he could defeat. No wonder he had a reputation from the fighting pits. He was a proud lad, and a bad looser. Facing Tom, he found himself the underdog his eyes flashing dangerously, in jealousy, more than in anger. Jacob did not like it. The lad could be a great asset, a great fighter, but Jacob was unsure if he was reliable. He did not seem to respect anyone but himself. Jacob found himself watching the Rooks glowing green in front of him and realized he was checking the lad in eagle vision, making sure his intentions were clean. Jacob averted his eyes to the ground. Was he that unsure about the lad?

Sam was his name. He had come along one evening, walking up to the gate alone, wearing his red Blighter coat, and asked to talk to the boss of the Rooks. When Jacob had come outside, he had stood in the middle of the yard, surrounded by a hostile bunch of Rooks, waiting calmly and ignoring the crowd gathered around. Then he had pledged his allegiance to the Rooks and thrown off his red coat. It was not an unusual occurrence, Blighters changing their coats, but most did it after losing a gang war or having their stronghold conquered. There was something shifty about a man turning his coat that way, choosing to leave the Blighters for no particular reason but his own interest.

His trail of thoughts were interrupted as Ed and Greg, beckoned him to join in the training, Jacob had already gone a round, besting Liam for his impertinent remarks a few days prior, nevertheless he didn't mind another round at all. The lads were starting to become acquainted with his style of fighting, and as they learned, fighting them became more challenging, giving him the training he needed as well.

In the beginning after coming to London, Jacob had visited the fighting pits for training. Evie was still able to provide him with real resistance in the ring, but he could not rely on her to make time to keep his skills honed. Therefore, he had sought out other options, and had revelled in the fighting clubs. It had given him a nice income as well in the early days, before the Rooks operations started to generate a steady flow of cash.

Jacob shed his vest and shirt and walked into the ring to meet his opponents. The men's eyes gleamed in anticipation, both adamant to take Jacob down. In training, the rounds were won when the opponent was down, both shoulders touching the ground. It was a competition amongst the men, getting Jacob down on his back in the ring, the reward being respect from the gang and a reputation as one of his best men. The two Rook's devilish smiles mirrored Jacob's own as they circled him, eager to take him down. Jacob stood still, his senses on high alert, waiting for them to make the first move. The training around them ground to a halt, this fight drawing the attention and interest of the others. The crowd gathering around intently studying the three in action and wagering bets on who would win this time.

The two men struck simultaneously, Ed aiming a low kick at Jacob's legs to unsettle him, Greg throwing a punch at his face. Jacob avoided the kick and deflected Greg's fist. Following through the motion, he grabbed the outstretched arm, ramming down on his shoulder bringing him to his knees. Shifting his attention back to Ed, Jacob received a punch to the side, before blocking a series of blows, and striking him in the gut, winding him.

In a training session, they held back on the force of the blows to avoid inflicting serious damage. Still, the fighting left marks. The blows were painful enough to make one want to avoid them and spiking the senses into alertness. However, it meant his opponents were not stunned as long as in a real fight, leaving him shorter time to react.

Jacob turned his attention around yet again, and ducked a fist swinging at his head. Greg received a punch to his side and let out a groan of pain, but stood his ground.

Ed would soon be back in the fight. To keep them at bay, Jacob knew he should face them one at the time, keeping one incapacitated, while fighting the other, or get both of them in front of him. The Lads had learned that lesson as well, and were trying to get to him from separate angles at the same time. Jacob would have to take one of them out soon, or risk losing.

Jacob feigned a punch at Greg's head, making him lift his arms in a block. Then he kicked the back of his knee and shoved him to the ground. The Rooks betting on Jacob cheered loudly. One down, one to go. Greg left the ring to watch the remainder of the match and received a clap on the shoulder by John and Liam, while Jacob turned to face the remaining opponent.

Ed was slightly more apprehensive, facing Jacob alone, but still determined not to lose. Jacob swung a punch at his head. The blow was efficiently blocked with a forearm, without exposing the rest of the body. Jacob nodded approvingly, and aimed a series of low and high punches. Some of them, Ed was able to block, but a few hit the target. Jacob smiled satisfied. The results of a year of training and fighting was becoming evident in his men. A year ago, none of the Rooks had been able to hold their ground against him, not even a bit. It was fulfilling to see the work he put down giving results. Nevertheless, he was not going to let Ed win.

Jacob dove low, grabbing the man's ankle, yanking his feet from under him, sending him to the ground. A wide grin spread across his face as Ed acknowledged defeat, hitting the dirt with his balled fists, before smiling back at him, shaking his head. No new glory today.

Jacob rose to his feet drying sweat from his face with the back of his hand, when another man entered the ring.

"Give me a go, Mr. Frye!"

He turned and saw Sam in the ring taking a stance, his fists up and ready for a fight. Jacob let his arms fall down his sides, watching him as he walked closer. The men usually allowed for a pause between rounds, out of curtesy. Not that it mattered to Jacob, but it struck a nerve in him that this fellow didn't abide to it. Jacob suspected it was intentional. Sam thought it would give him an advantage and increase his chances to defeat Jacob. Jacob decided to prove him wrong and put him in his place.

Raising his fists, loosely tucking the fingers in, he rolled his shpulders and took a stance.

"Go on then, give us your best shot," he said smiling at the lad.

Sam threw a punch that Jacob ducked to avoid. The two circled silently, Jacob awaiting his attack and taking measure of the lad. Sam threw another punch, this time at his centre. Jacob turned sideways, easily avoiding the blow, still sizing him up. He had potential, this one. Sam's eyes lit up in anger and threw a series of punches. Jacob deflected and blocked them, one after the other. Still he had not made a move against him. It was infuriating Sam. Jacob smiled a lopsided smile. He was fast, and he threw a good punch, but the lad didn't mind his balance. When Sam swung at him again, Jacob ducked the blow, grabbed his leg and yanked him off his feet, pummelling him into the ground. One hand pressing down on Sam's chest Jacob met his eyes.

"You're not ready," he said before getting up to walk out of the ring.

He had not taken two steps away before he was tackled, Sam throwing his full weight onto his back. Jacob's training kicked in as he threw an elbow back, hitting Sam in the ribs. This time there was no holding back, and Sam was thrown off, winded by the blow. Jacob got to his feet, grinding his teeth, anger raising inside. The Rooks around the ring muttered in contempt of foul play.

"Who are you to say I'm not ready?!" Sam said jeering as he got back up. "I took you down."

"You just earned yourself the pleasure of another round, Sam," he answered darkly, containing the with clenched fists.

Sam let out a short, snide laugh and resumed fighting position.

The first attack was instant. Jacob kicked Sam's feet from underneath him and plunged him into the ground, before he had time to react. Jacob stood back up, his senses alert when turning his back on the lad.

"Get up!" he growled, and heard Sam stir behind him.

Sam got to his feet, red faced and furious he plunged forward, aiming to floor Jacob. Jacob sidestepped, grabbing his arm, yanking him out of balance, and shoved him down.

Spitting dirt Sam got back on his feet, once more taking a stance, mirroring Jacob. Anger fuelled him and made him oblivious to anything other than his hurt pride. Jacob was adamant to see him yield, not only say the words, but truly yield in mind as well. The lad's loyalty was questionable and with this display, Jacob wanted a definite conclusion.

Sam was taking a slightly more defensive role, circling and awaiting Jacob's next move. Jacob threw a feign punch, exposing himself to draw him in. Sam recognized the chance and fell for the trick. Jacob spun away, kicked the back of his knee and struck him over the neck. Again, Sam was on the ground spitting dirt. Jacob walked in a circle around him as Sam got up, a little less agile this time. He was clearly feeling the beating by now, but the anger burned just as fresh.

Jacob continued to bring him down, changing his tactics slightly each time. As fatigue started to set in, the fire in Sam's eyes slowly subsided and getting back up was taking him a little longer each time. Jacob was starting to feel the strain as well, however showing it was not an option. Unwavering he circled Sam and made sure to bring him down resolutely.

Sam was on his back in the dirt closing his eyes and taking an opportunity to rest.

"Get up!" Jacob was not going to let him take time to rest.

"I yield Mr. Frye."

Jacob walked closer, and met his gaze.

"We are not done," he said, "get up!"

The reaction in Sam's eyes was as expected, at first surprise and hesitation, and then resolve set inside. He found new strength, swinging at Jacob with renewed ferocity; however, the anger was not there anymore. Jacob blocked and countered the punches, drawing out the fight, letting the man spend the energy, before flooring him once more.

Sam got back up without a word. Jacob repeated the drill, his face set in a mask of determination, showing no signs of the strain he was starting to feel. Sam however, was tiring, his movements slower and less accurate by each punch, losing his footing and getting easier to throw off balance. It was time to make a final statement.

Sam barely got to his feet before Jacob kicked his feet from under him, sending him flat on his back in a second. Sam closed his eyes and got back up, the effort now evident on his movements.

He took a stance once more, but Jacob could see he was hardly putting up a fight. The weakness was becoming prominent, Jacob had made his point, and it was time to finish. Jacob leapt forward, grabbing hold of Sam's elbow, forcing the arm up and backwards. With his footing unsettled and no strength left to withstand the force, pushing his arm back further was all it took to bring him down. Jacob pinned him to the ground with one arm as he locked gaze with Sam. Comprehension had set in. Sam knew he had gone too far, knew he was beat and that he would keep losing until Jacob was done with him. He was just waiting for it to end. Jacob was satisfied.

"Now we're done," he said and released the grip. Sam closed his eyes and remained lying.

Jacob stood up and walked to the edge of the ring. The Rooks surrounding the ring were excitedly discussing the fight, all except the seasoned men, standing at the edge of the ring, where they had gravely watched the fight in silence. The gang was dependent on a firm leader, one that would enforce leadership and meet any question to it firmly. One by one, the former Clinkers, Ed, Rob and Charles met his gaze and gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment of what he had done. Sam's challenge was met in a way that would discourage anyone else to try the same, without killing or injuring the man.

Jacob put on his shirt and threw the west over his shoulder. Sam was still on the ground, collecting himself from the fight. Jacob decided to take the edge off his defeat and walked back to his side.

"Come on, Sam. We need a drink after this," he said. Sam met his eyes again, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Yes, Frye, we most certainly do," Jacob reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet.

For now, he had put Sam in his place and reinforced his hold on the Rooks. However, he was sure this would not be the last challenge he met from him. The man was a sly opportunist, and given some time, he might decide to make another try at Jacob. Jacob knew it, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the lad as they all filed into the dining hall, where the fumes of dinner greeted the hungry men.