Luc isn't fool enough to claim to be any sort of expert with the weapons he carries, but he knows one end from the other and has used them against something other than straw targets a few times with passable results. Still, surprise always helps so until the boy's traveling with a company he likes and trusts there's not going to be any requests for practice spars, that's for certain. It's practice he both needs and wants, admittedly, but it just never seemed a good time to tell the scruffy band that he'd like to be beaten around in the ring a bit... Especially since none of them probably had the skill, much less the consideration, to be careful of his fingers. They'd be more interested in just beating him up, like as not.
It would appear, however, that in need of practice or no- it wasn't going to matter this night. Eragos seems more inclined to tend to the unruly pair on his own and the bard is hardly going to go arguing about it unless it becomes clear that the White Rider is disdaining assistance he truly desperately needs. Don't ever argue with a man you owe a favor that big unless you're damn certain it's an argument you'll win; an argument you -ought- to win, it makes no sense.
Xias isn't even noticed, Luc slightly preoccupied with the closer, better-known menace since Eragos hadn't elected to warn him about... other potential issues. It would have been nice, but who knows, maybe it really wouldn't have helped. It would have taken more explanation to prepare the kid for the imminent assault though. Sharp sound bring him to more intense alert, but the falling bolt isn't visible from just inside the wagon behind the bulk of the Rider, though the retort was enough to bring hand clutching at the amulet tucked beneath linen shirt with silent prayer to Bahamut, or honestly any deity that was listening.
"Take cover!"
But with the only 'cover' around being the wagons- either in or under them, and either a flimsy-seeming prospect though the wood was sturdy enough...