Chapter 382: From The Kings Eyes.

Chapter 382: Chapter 382: From The Kings Eyes.

It’s hard to say what exactly it is that keeps Gurdet there.

He –and until recently, his daughter and his nephew –have never made a habit of frequenting the training grounds.

In the times of peace during his reign, Drogger and Bongo have always been more than capable of overseeing their soldiers’ training, and as such Gurdet’s never felt much need to hover anxiously over their shoulders.

​Today, he lingers; his hands resting lightly on the stone before him as he gazes out across the training grounds.

The warmer weather seems to have lifted the soldiers’ spirits –although on closer inspection that does seem somewhat balanced out by Drogger’s displeasure at how slack they’ve grown over winter.

A lot of them look to have already spent the morning running.

​But he’s not interested in them.

Instead, Gurdet settles his gaze on the sparring ring that had captured Khobi’s attention from the moment he looked out, and is by this point not entirely surprised by who he finds there.

What does take him by surprise, however, is that his nephew is not alone. Not by a long shot. In fact, he’s practically surrounded.

By soldiers; by all accounts the same soldiers who for years had given him a wide berth and held him at arms’ length.

Trent had kept company with the Rogard boy when they were children, and it had obviously come to Gurdet’s attention that that that was once again the case, but Montrel, too? The castle guards? The soldiers he’d spent the better part of his adult years clashing with?

​And he’s laughing.

​Gods , when was the last time Gurdet saw Trent laugh like that?

​They’re all laughing. (At Montrel, Gurdet realises somewhat grimly.)

​And then the laughter stops, and he knows that they’ve seen Khobi.

Against the drab greys and browns of the soldiers at works, his shock of red hair stands out like a beacon in the night.

And while they’re too far for him to properly make out their faces or the exact expressions they’re wearing, but excitement is something that need not be seen to be felt, and even from here Gurdet can feel the way they light up at the sight of him.

It’s impossible to know for sure, what with the calamity carrying on below, but he’s certain that the howls that rise up in the moment above all the rest come from them.

​Before his eyes, Khobi breaks into a run.

​Incredible, how a man can still have the capacity for childlike joy after weathering the darkness of Briyagi.

​He makes it all the way to the fence before he gets tackled clean off his feet.

It’s impossible to tell exactly who is responsible, but from the dog pile of limbs that ensues it was inevitable.

​From their reactions Khobi may as well have risen from the dead.

Gurdet wonders if he should find that concerning or heartwarming, or perhaps a disturbing mix of both.

And when he finally makes it back to his feet he’s covered in dirt and there are hands in his hand and around his shoulders as the soldiers greet him in their own boisterous way.

Trent’s right in there too, slugging him in the arm and then slinging an arm around his shoulders and dragging him close.

And then, amidst the chaos, Gurdet catches a glimpse of something he’s not sure he was meant to; he sees him lean in to lightly nudge his forehead against Khobi’s cheek.

It’s just a moment, and none of the soldiers seem to notice, and he pulls back again so fast that Gurdet wonders if he imagined it.

​But he’s always had excellent eyes.

And he’s not to know it, but as he gazes down upon the scene before him, they soften.

​There’s already a sword in Khobi’s hand, and Gurdet is mildly bemused to find that a couple of the soldiers are stripping out of their armour and handing it to him.

​"...His Highness has been training with the soldiers," Bongo states, and Gurdet has to scold himself for forgetting to appropriately hide his confusion.

Such rumours had reached his ears –it would have seemed entirely preposterous but for the changes that he’d already noted in his nephew.

"...And he has developed a rather bad habit of working them rather hard when Khobi isn’t around."

​(That’s putting it nicely. Gurdet had heard that he worked them to the brink of death.)

​"...I daresay they’re pleased to have him back."

​A cheer rises up as Khobi leaps the fence into the ring; far louder than Gurdet was expecting.

Trent is already in there –waiting for him –and while he’s not doing anything quite so obvious as pacing, the impatience and anticipation is written all over his frame.

As it is on Khobi’s.

​As one they move, and the instant their blades meet for the thousandth first time, Gurdet understands that these are not the same two soldiers that he once saw face off against one another in this very place.

They’re both faster than they were; their movements slicker and more polished after the long days spent polishing them back to gleaming, but for all their skill, that’s not what strikes him.

​Back then, the tension in the air had held an entire crowd hostage; sucking the wind from their lungs and filling them back with dread.

It hadn’t been with anything quite so malicious as murderous intent , but back then, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Loac Trent and Khobi Frost fought as enemies .

It’s not like that now. The tension’s there still –when two swordsmen of their calibre meet there’s no escaping that –but this is warmer and endlessly more vibrant .

And as they strike up; their blades catching, turning, and breaking away again all with practiced ease, it becomes abundantly clear that while they are opponents still, they’re enemies no longer.

​( Equals .)

​The other soldiers feel it; it’s why they turn and watch even when they know they shouldn’t.