Chapter 105 - 104: Authority Calls.

Chapter 105: Chapter 104: Authority Calls.

Drogger is not happy.

Unlike Khobi and Rogard, Montrel gets the dignity of not getting hauled behind a tent by the collar of his shirt, but he’s in no less trouble.

Possibly the most, actually.

"Sit," Drogger commands, and they sit, like naughty children. And then all flinch in turn as he cuffs each of them around the back of the head.

Not hard enough to hurt, but to get the point across.

That they’re idiots.

"Master!"

"Captain??"

"Ow..."

"What was that?" he demands flatly, rounding on them with arms crossed and an expression thick with thunder. "You, I expected this from," he says to Khobi, which is both a little unfair whilst being completely justified, "Your track record is flimsy to say the least. You two, however."

He glares pointedly at Montrel and Rogard to emphasise just who exactly he’s talking about, and to get some sort of explanation.

"Making trouble with a prince? Really?"

"He started it," Rogard huffs crossly.

Which, in fairness, he did.

"I don’t care who started it," Drogger says sternly, brow furrowed deep. "You’re Crade Soldiers. Have some dignity."

"Captain," Montrel complains, rubbing the back of his head and feeling a lot like he’s just been scolded by his father. Drogger isn’t even that much older than him.

"He was mouthing off about Loac. What were we meant to do?"

"Not antagonise him," Drogger replies easily, as though that were obvious, shoulders squared.

"Not take the bait. You do realise that that was what he was doing? Trying to get a rise out of you."

Montrel looks away, shamefaced.

"...Yes, sir," he mutters, annoyed.

Partly at that damn prince for taunting them, and partly at himself for falling for it.

This was exactly the sort of thing Bongo had been afraid of, and Khobi hadn’t even really been the one making trouble.

They’re lucky this is the only encounter like this they’ve had today, and they’re awful lucky it didn’t go worse.

Drogger sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

That can’t be good.

"You know I have to report you," he mutters, shaking his head and holding up a hand to halt the protests before they start. At least he sounds like he feels bad about it.

"All of you. I can’t have you mouthing off at every person who doesn’t think much of Loac—"

"Aw, come on, Captain, that’s not fair—"

"Yeah, master, Khobicchi didn’t even punch anyone this time!"

"Yeah, and I wanted to."

"Khobi, not helping, seriously," Rogard mutters. "I tried to tell you not to do anything—"

"Hey, you hated that guy’s guts just as much—"

"Yeah, but I wasn’t going to punch him."

"You were the one who told him to his face that he was unclassy."

"It was to his back, actually."

Which, now that he thinks about it, isn’t very classy either. But it’s not like snipes have ever started a war or anything.

He thinks.

Drogger sighs again.

Also not a good sign, but it gets their attention and stops their squabbling in its tracks.

"...I suppose..." he muses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose...since nothing actually happened, I can let you off with a warning.

No one got hurt, and Prince Loac is known to have a bad habit of trying to stir people up."

"...So we’re not in trouble?" Montrel ventures, as their captain gestures for them to stand again.

"Wanting to defend your prince is admirable," Drogger relents wearily, "If...out of character.

I can’t fault you for that."

Somewhere in there is a suggestion that Montrel get a little better at hiding his open distaste for Loac.

"I didn’t know you were coming, master," Rogard pipes up as he levers himself up off the ground.

The gypsy woman whose tent they’ve been concealed behind is starting to look intrigued by the proceedings, him in particular, and he’s fended off quite enough of them today already.

He doesn’t need Drogger to see him with some scantily clad woman hanging off his arm.

Wait, what?

Rogard blinks, a little stunned by the stray thought, and where on earth it’s come from.

There’s no reason for Drogger to care about that sort of thing, and no reason for him to care if he sees.

He always has women hanging off him, after all. With his looks and charm, it’s only natural.

"Loac’s not a perfect prince, but he’s still our prince," he hears Drogger say distantly, and pats Montrel on the shoulder with a firm nod, like he wants him to know that he understands the sense of duty one feels towards even a cumbersome prince.

"Something the matter, Rogard?" Drogger asks, looking at him strangely.

Rogard is horrified to find that he’s been staring at him.

Again.

It’s a bad habit he’s noticed himself developing recently.

It’s just, Drogger looks kinda different in casual clothes is all.

Good, even.

Distractingly so, apparently.

Blue is a good colour on him. And the cold can’t bother him because his shirt is probably a little more open than Rogard would’ve worn at this time of year.

It suits him.

Rogard thinks, privately, that he’d probably have no trouble finding a new wife if he wore shirts like that a bit more often.

Not that he looks bad in armour.

Heavens knows Drogger looks great in armour, like, Rogard hadn’t ever known anyone could make worn old leather look so good.

Really, he needs to stop.

"Nope!" he announces, too enthusiastically, and flushes when he realises that despite just scolding himself for staring, he’s already doing it again!

"Sorry, master!" he adds, when he gets a blank stare in response. "Just uh, just had a bit to drink is all!"

He glares emphatically at Khobi and Montrel to corroborate his story.

Immediately.

"Yeah, we’ve uh, been drinking," Montrel replies, without really knowing why.

"Clearly," Drogger replies flatly, shaking his head and sending Rogard a curious sidelong glance as he holds back the tent flap in apology for dragging them away from their revelries.

Hopefully the alcohol excuse is enough to explain away the sudden heat in Rogard’s cheeks.

"Behave yourselves, all of you."

...

"Y’know, I seriously can’t believe that guy," Gandy snaps irritably, as they stumble their way back through the castle gates, the sun setting at their backs.

The guards on the gate, already annoyed because they’re on duty when practically the entire castle is out getting drunk down on the plains, give them all a reproachful look.

"Captain said before sunset," one of them comments dryly, and Montrel slings his middle finger at him.

"Not sunset yet," he growls, jabbing a finger at the rapidly reddening horizon.

He’s right, so the guards’ thinly veiled threats to go running to Bongo are meaningless.

"Tryin’ to fuckin’ start a fight in someone else’s kingdom?? Is he tryin’ to start a war, or what??" Gandy continues, like he hasn’t been interrupted.

He staggers into Mural, who dutifully props him upright again like this isn’t the dozenth time he’s heard this complaint this evening.

It can only be a good thing that that was the only direct confrontation they’ve had today.

"Maybe he’s just a dick," Montrel points out. "Anyways, if he’s that prince, who’s he to talk smack about Loac?"

"Huh?"

Khobi feels like he’s missed something.

Rogard flings an arm around his shoulders a little familiarly, and snickers in his ear.

"Whaaat? Khobs, everyone knows that that snob’s sneaking around with his hic beefy Captain."

Khobi blinks.

Ignores the use of the word beefy.

"What, the one who was with him?" he queries, raising an eyebrow and pushing Rogard off him.

He comes back a minute later, smelling of wine.

"Yup."

Well, that fucking explains a bit.

"I fucking knew it," Khobi exclaims hotly, and the soldiers all look at him for immediate explanation.

One which he doesn’t really have.

Apart from that he just kinda got the feeling that there was something going on between them.

Something not...purely professional.

"...He uh...the Captain guy just uh...just kinda looked at him like..."

"Like?" Rogard prompts, eyebrow raised.

Embarrassed, Khobi fucking blushes.

"I dunno," he snaps irritably, ducking his head away so no one will see his cheeks turning red.

Because there’s no way to say that they looked at each other the way his aunt and uncle always did without sounding corny as shit.

"Like he uh, would’ve punched you out if you touched his prince, I guess?"

"Like he loves him, you mean?" Rogard teases, and Khobi wishes he’d never said anything.

"Yeah, so what."

"So how did you notice?"

"I could just tell, okay??" he growls, ignoring the jab.

"Ooooooohhhhh, Khobs, didn’t know you were such a romantic!"

"Hey! Shut your mouth! And get off me!"