Chapter 193 - 191: Against The Rules.

Chapter 193: Chapter 191: Against The Rules.

Drums, it sounds like, and bells, and it’s hard to know whether Loac is the one keeping time with them, or they with him.

​" Ah , he’s so cool," Rogard laments, and Khobi jumps, having completely forgotten he was beside him.

​They’ve both stopped running.

​Most of them have.

​"You think?" Khobi scoffs, but there’s too much awe and not enough bite for any real contempt to show through.

​He’d never admit it, but Rogard’s right.

​Loac looks so fucking cool.

​And yet, at the same time, as mesmerising as it is to watch, it has none of the vibrancy that Khobi has seen –and felt –him fight with; that desperate, untamed energy that is both terrifying and intoxicating and dares him to flee in the same breath that it dares him to reach out and touch.

Each movement –every extension, and each flourish –as light and as fanciful as he wields them, still carries with them an overwhelming, crushing intensity, but when Khobi sees his face, there are no sparks in his eyes. Not even a flicker.

​Khobi doesn’t like it.

​Not one bit.

​It feels wrong , because he knows that there’s something alive in there; something fierce and endlessly bright, dying to break free and burn to its heart’s content.

​All it needs is the right match.

​...

​It’s been far too long since his prince has shown his face within these walls, but it doesn’t show.

Unbelievably, there’s not a shred of rust to his movements, and his deftness with a blade hasn’t aged a day.

​If he wasn’t completely undermining him, Drogger would be impressed.

​(He still is, despite himself.)

​His prince may have his faults, but when he takes up a blade it’s difficult for even his harshest critics to not be impressed by Loac Trent.

There are just some soldiers it’s impossible not to admire.

​Almost out of reflex, his eyes begin to search for Rogard, and he has to chide himself for letting his thoughts and his gaze wander so easily.

The castle walls have eyes and ears everywhere, and all of them are constantly on the hunt for secrets; the more salacious and more tightly guarded, the better.

Drogger has never really been interested in listening to their whispers, and very rarely have they been about him.

​After all, he had nothing to hide.

​It’s different now, and he would rather not catch their attention.

​As such, he needed to exercise a little more restraint. Which, as evidenced by their interactions to this point, is going to prove difficult.

Rogard has an uncanny way of making him forget himself, and he has a bad feeling that getting involved with him is a surefire way of landing him in trouble.

​And he’s gone and done it anyway.

Despite all of his good intentions, his wandering gaze still catches on Rogard, and lingers –just long enough to notice Rogard glancing his way to see if it’s been noticed that he and Khobi have gotten distracted –but longer than it should.

​Of course I’ve noticed .

​"Get back to it!" he yells, which is fine because it applies to almost every soldier in the vicinity.

You’d think he’d cracked a whip with the urgency with which they all snap back into motion.

All but one; a servant –male, with dark hair, and a concerningly intense grey gaze –who has been loitering around in a very un-servant-like fashion for quite some time.

They do come and go from the training grounds, carting equipment and water and tending to the various needs of the soldiers but the servants of the castle are capable and hard working, and generally exceptionally discreet, and for one to be so openly... lingering ...is unprecedented.

​Not just lingering, either. Watching .

​Drogger wonders who –or what –he’s looking for. Nothing and no one specifically seems to be holding his attention, and he’s not sure if that should be reassuring, or concerning.

At first glance he looks much like any other servant, but the way he carries himself doesn’t quite pass a second.

He’s dressed like one, sure, but his gaze on the soldiers at their drills is too intent, and there’s a familiar kind of anticipation in the way he watches.

​And despite what Ynoro might have to say about him, he knows well what excitement looks like.

​He’s doing no harm, he’s staying out of the way, and not doing anything overtly suspicious, so Drogger lets him be.

But he makes sure to keep half an eye trained in his direction as he circles the training grounds, appraising the soldiers for their efforts and snapping at the ones getting distracted by their prince, and eventually it becomes obvious what he was waiting for.

​Or rather, whom.

​He should’ve known it had something to do with Khobi.

​It always has something to do with Khobi.

​As usual, he and his regular compatriots have set up camp in one of the prime sparring rings –the lot of them have a tendency to neglect their other drills in favour of beating each other senseless, and if they didn’t work so hard at it Drogger would’ve put a stop to it weeks ago.

The servant joins them, and as he drops in beside Khobi, Drogger sees a layer of the dutiful servant drop away, too.

​Around Khobi his smile grows wide, and the stiff posture demanded by a life dedicated to the service of those of higher birth gives way to slack shoulders and an almost carefree slouch.

​(They seem like they’re friends.)

It’s a dangerous line to tread –Drogger knows from experience how treacherous aiming above your station can be, and how cruel those who would bar you can be –but it warms his heart nonetheless.

A couple of the soldiers greet the servant too, almost like they’re used to his company.

It makes Drogger smile to realise that Rogard is one of them; that he’s no longer the cold man his father had influenced him into being.

While it’s not strictly proper for a servant to be here as he is, it’s not exactly against the rules .

What is against the rules, is what happens next.