Chapter 252 - 250: Royal Acheivement.

Chapter 252: Chapter 250: Royal Acheivement.

To his surprise, Loac eats a single one, and then starts transferring them into a box, brow furrowed with concentration as he tries to stack them in without crushing any; a difficult feat when the honeycakes are too small and his hands are too big.

The juxtaposition is comical but Khobi’s honestly a little put out that they (he) put in all this work for him to not even eat them.

Not that they were overly difficult, in the end. If anything, the most taxing part was managing Loac .

​"What, you’re not even gonna eat em?" he states in disbelief, and gets a wordless scowl in response as Loac finishes filling the box and even more unbelievably, pawns it off to a servant. "Seriously? After all that?"

​Well, Loac’s just wasted his one favour.

​And this is just one of the reasons this guy pisses him off, he just goes and demands –

​"...They’re for Xena."

​"Wha --all of them?" he splutters, as Loac waves the servant away and receives a deep bow in return.

​"Yeah," he says quietly, "All of them."

​Something in Loac’s voice causes the sudden rush of irritation to dissipate in an instant, and Khobi’s internal rant stops before it even starts.

It’s strange; he’s right next to him but his words sound oddly far off, and when Khobi sends a sidelong glance his way, his expression is equally a world away.

Not vacant in the way that had always made Khobi’s skin crawl, just...somewhere else.

And it’s none of his business, but he finds himself wondering just what he sees for his expression to pinch the way it does.

​"Oh," is all he can say, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. He’s never heard him speak like that before; didn’t know it was something he was capable of.

It’s kind of jarring. "I uhh...hope she likes em?"

​"Me too."

​Loac finishes his drink as he gets to his feet, and if that wasn’t baffling enough, what he says as he departs leaves Khobi dumbstruck.

​"...Thanks, Khobi."

...

Winter is such a dreary time.

For all their many differences, it’s one of the few things that Gurdet and his daughter agree on.

It’s cold, and every year the weather is appalling and isolates entire kingdoms inside until the thaw.

After all these years as king he’s long since grown bored with all the same mundane little squabbles and disagreements and raids that crop up around this time.

Nothing interesting ever seems to happen in winter. Even war bides its time for spring.

​And yet.

​Xena seems in high spirits. Why, Gurdet can’t fathom; the weather outside is as dreadful as ever, and the noblewomen they’ve just finished breakfast with only seemed interested in complaining about what a bitter winter it’s been so far and how it would be wonderful to have a royal wedding to look forward to come spring.

(A proper one, had been the implication; one for their Crown Princess, not her insufferable cousin.)

Xena despises such talk but has gotten quite good at pretending she doesn’t.

​By all accounts she should be in a terrible mood.

​But she’s positively cheerful .

​In fact, she hadn’t been nearly as vocal at breakfast as she usually is.

​Gurdet wonders if he should be concerned.

​"You’re looking awfully chipper today," he remarks conversationally, as the servants bring by a round of tea to wash away the false sweetness of the noblewomen they’ve had to endure the last several hours with.

He sends away his tea and signals for wine instead. Xena doesn’t so much as give him a disapproving look, which while appreciated, is certainly unprecedented.

​"Do I?" she remarks brightly, and perhaps it’s a little too dramatic but Gurdet just has to take off his glasses before her smile blinds him.

It’s far too real for a princess to be caught wearing; he’s sure he and his wife taught her better than this.

​"You do, sweet daughter," he replies flatly.

​"Is that such a bad thing?" she inquires lightly.

​"...This wouldn’t have anything to do with your little excursions to the training grounds?" he remarks, and knows he’s hit the nail dead on the head when she looks away like a child caught out of bed after bedtime.

​"Oh, so you heard about that."

​"Yes, I heard about that," Gurdet muses dryly.

Like he wouldn’t know what his own daughter was up to under his roof.

​"...Well, did you hear that I hit the target?"

​He had, but he humours her.

​"Did you now?"

​"I did!" she exclaims, clearly delighted. Another bad sign.

Princesses are meant to be far more composed, and shouldn’t be exclaiming, in delight or otherwise.

As a king, he’s disappointed.

​As a father, however, he feels an uncomfortable, tiny pang of joy.

​It’s quite disconcerting.

​"Not right in the middle," she prattles on excitedly, and it’s a sign of her strange state of mind that she continues unprompted.

She should know the dangers of speaking thoughtlessly, especially to him.

"But it was better than before! And Montrel says I’m doing very well for a beginner."

​A bad feeling starts to creep into the back of Gurdet’s mind; one that he can’t quite place or give a name to.

​"Montrel said that?" he repeats back slowly. Sometimes the easiest way to get information from someone is to just let them talk.

​"He did," she gushes, and her beaming smile suddenly turns smaller, but soft.

​The bad feeling intensifies.

​"Yes, I’d heard he was...giving you some pointers,"

Gurdet remarks flatly, not exactly sure why his words come out on something not unlike a grimace.

Xena doesn’t even notice.

​"He has! He’s a very good soldier, father."

​It’s the truth, but Gurdet does not like the way she says it.

He does not like it one bit.

​"And with my new shooting glove –"

​" –You already have your own shooting glove?" This is news to him.

He knew she was getting quite into this whole archery business, but he didn’t know that it had gotten to the point where she was commissioning her own equipment.

​"Well, it was a gift from Montrel, but –"

​Oh, well that explains it.

​And yet at the same time, the mystery deepens.

​