Chapter 210 - 208: Tag Along.

Chapter 210: Chapter 208: Tag Along.

There’s a knock at the door.

​Drogger freezes, fingers curled into the small of Rogard’s back, and his breath ghosting against his throat.

And then he snaps to his senses like someone’s doused him in cold water and jerks away, cursing when he notices the mess they’ve made of his nice papers.

Rogard doesn’t take offence. He’s quite familiar with the feeling that comes with almost getting caught up to no good.

​(It’s been a while since he’s felt this thrill, though.)

​(He feels a little giddy, in the best way.)

​He takes a moment to collect himself while Drogger hurriedly tries to make his desk look more presentable, then levers himself away from the desk and brushes his hair back into place.

​Oh, his shirt’s undone.

​When did that happen?

​He slings Drogger a raised eyebrow as he patiently rebuttons it, and while Drogger had been so bold only moments ago, he’s suddenly looking quite sheepish.

​There’s a second knock. Rogard internally cringes.

​"Come in," Drogger croaks out, looking quite obviously strained, and Rogard puts on his airiest, most dazzling, delightful smile to compensate.

But it dims somewhat as soon as he sees who has interrupted them.

​Vogrid never had time for his smiles. Never had time for anyone’s smiles, for that matter.

​(Well, now that wasn’t quite true, was it?)

​He goes for it anyways. After all, he’s a master of pretending that nothing’s going on.

​"Oh, Vogrid! Fancy seeing you here," he greets brightly, and even throws in a casual wave that is about as well received as the beaming smile.

That is to say, not well at all. Vogrid just looks down his nose at him like he always does, adjusts his glasses, and zeroes in on the mess spilling off and over Drogger’s desk with disapproval.

​"I, uh, thanks for your time, master," Rogard hurriedly covers, hoisting up his crutch as he makes to leave, "I’ll be back in top form in no time."

​"Of course," Drogger replies, too stiffly.

Rogard resists the urge to roll his eyes. He may be a pro at this, but Drogger definitely needs some work.

"...Goodnight, Rogard."

​Without further ado, Rogard makes for the door, privately irritated at the interruption. As he draws close, however, Vogrid holds out a finger to stop him.

He gestures at Rogard’s chest, and when he looks down, he realises in his haste he’s mixed up a couple of his buttons. So much for being a pro.

​"Oh, oops! Silly me~" Rogard laughs, and makes a morose face as he fixes it up, "I’ve been walking around like that all day?Master , why wouldn’t you tell me??"

​"...Honestly, Rogard," Vogrid scoffs, shaking his head as he stalks past him, "You should know better."

​Rogard flings a puzzled look back over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him, but Vogrid doesn’t look back.

​What’s that supposed to mean ?

...

Khobi should have known something was up the moment Binny laid out some of his fancy clothes.

But he was dazed and worn out from the day’s training, and the bath he’d just had had been so nice that he hadn’t noticed until he was already in them, and by then it was too late.

​Being dressed in his best can mean nothing good, and when Binny pulls open the door to reveal Vogrid Vector, hand poised as if to knock, Khobi sends Binny a betrayed look.

​"Sorry, Khobi," Binny shrugs, like it can’t be helped. Which it can’t be. "His Majesty’s orders."

​Vogrid looks mildly thrown by the open door, and even more so to find Khobi already dressed.

He clears his throat and loosens his hold on the blade at his side, clearly having expected some resistance.

​After a beat, Khobi unclenches, too.

​(Binny does not.)

​"...His Majesty has requested your presence," Vogrid informs him, coolly appraising him from head to toe.

Binny must’ve had prior warning and done a particularly good job though, because he doesn’t offer any criticism.

For a change. It gives Khobi an odd sense of satisfaction.

​"Do I have a choice?" he grinds out, irritated nonetheless.

The guy’s expression and curt manner of speaking never fails to put him in a bad mood.

​"You do not."

​Khobi takes stock of the ridiculous outfit Binny’s put him in –some dreadful black monstrosity with stiff, ornate red trim and a collar that is somehow too high in some parts and too low in others.

Then lets out what feels like the longest sigh of his life.

​"Fine," he relents, and jerks his thumb in Binny’s direction, "He’s coming though."

Vogrid’s eyes narrow, and the thin line of his lips all but disappears.

​"That’s hardly appropriate," he states.

​"I don’t care," Khobi retorts back, hooking an arm around Binny’s shoulders and dragging him in against his side.

He’s not sure which of them looks more alarmed by the familiarity; Binny or Vogrid. "He’s my servant, right? So he comes with me."

​Vogrid mulls this over for a long moment and looks almost like he’s going to deny him, but it must be within the rules Khobi’s not privy –or hasn’t been paying attention –to, as he relents.

​"...As you wish," he states, stiffly, and wordlessly turns to leave.

He doesn’t tell Khobi to follow but it’s abundantly clear that he’s supposed to.

Away from his direct line of sight, Binny claps Khobi on the shoulder and gestures for him to lead the way.

​"I appreciate the solidarity and all," he comments under his breath as they fall in behind Vogrid. He doesn’t look back.

"But did you really have to drag me into this?" Khobi thinks that’s a bit rich.

​"Right, like you weren’t gonna sneak in and spy anyways," he scoffs back, and Binny doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

He just grins.

​"Ah, you got me~"

...

It’s not the worst fashion that Khobi’s ever shown up in to a meeting with the king.

He’s glad he’s not being dragged –being manhandled by Vogrid is something he detests –but he could do without the getup.

His regular clothes are just fine. Most of them don’t even have that many holes.