Chapter 395: Welcoming Audience.

Chapter 395: Chapter 395: Welcoming Audience.

If only it was quite so easy. If he had been taking any other girl out on a ride, they would have just saddled up, hopped on their horses and been off out of the city.

But Montrel’s slowly figuring out that when you’re a princess there seem to be a whole lot of extra steps to, well, everything.

The grooms know what they’re doing –they’ve been doing this a long time –and Montrel can spot a poorly adjusted saddle or bridle from further than he can spit (and believe it or not he can spit pretty damn far) but Vogrid still insists on personally checking every strap and buckle before even he lets Xena anywhere near her horse.

​Montrel gets it. But then he does the same to his own horse –twice –and that really seems like a bit much. And what’s more, it becomes abundantly clear as his scowl deepens with each tentative circle that the guy just straight up doesn’t like horses.

​Why he’s still insisting on coming when Gandy and Rogard are far more comfortable (and probably proficient) on horseback is beyond him.

​At this point he’d almost prefer Loac boring holes in the back of his head, but he doesn’t want that wild beast of his spooking the other horses.

​"You don’t have to come, Vogrid." It’s like Rogard’s read his mind. But Vogrid just sends him a haughty look at the very suggestion –one that’s somewhat ruined by his horse affectionately nuzzling its heavy grey nose into his hair.

​"Hmph, you really expect me to entrust Her Highness’ protection to you ?"

​It’s almost impressive how high and mighty he manages to sound with a horse trying to eat his hair.

​"Hey, that’s not fair," Gandy growls hotly, "Rogard’s as much of a guard as any of us –"

​"Who said I was only referring to Rogard?"

​A vein twitches in Gandy’s head.

​"So mean, Vogrid~" Rogard quips morosely, and then his voice takes on a disconcertingly light lilt as he leans back in his saddle and absentmindedly runs a gloved thumb across the hilt of the sword at his hip. "...You know, one of these days I might just get mad at you."

​The scoff that leaves Vogrid’s lips as he finally steps up into his saddle; a quiver of arrows and a longbow strapped across his back. Just in case.

​"Do as you like."

​The vein in Gandy’s forehead grows a friend.

​"I’m gonna throw something at this guy," he mutters mutinously as Montrel nudges his heels into his mare and finally gets them all moving.

​"... Try having him on your dates ," he grinds out, but then his expression visibly brightens as the princess comes up alongside him, perched expectantly in her saddle.

​"I’m ready for my ride, Montrel," she declares, and while she’s clearly trying not to sound too excited, the gleam in her eyes gives her away.

​"We better go then," Montrel declares, wheeling his horse around and nudging her into motion.

This is by no means his first ride, and not even his first ride with a girl but he’s feeling surprisingly jittery about it.

And is it hot out here, or is it just him? His cloak suddenly feels very heavy. "Hey Rogard, get up here will you? And Binny –" he adds to the servant as he passes by, nodding in the direction of Loac and Khobi, who seem to have metaphorically kissed and made up –or whatever their weird equivalent is –because Khobi’s no longer trying to wring Loac’s neck. It’s exhausting trying to keep up. " –Make sure these two don’t burn down the castle while we’re gone, yeah?"

​"Oh, no promises," Binny assures him flippantly, and when Montrel gives him an aggrieved look, simply offers him a demure wave. It’s not hugely reassuring.

​Gods, these kids are gonna turn him grey. How Drogger still has any hair left is a mystery.

​"Have fun~" Binny makes sure to add, and maybe once upon a time Montrel would’ve heard the wistfulness in his voice and known to look for it in his face.

But it’s been a long time since they were kids, and Montrel has a date with a pretty girl on his mind so perhaps he can be forgiven for not seeing it.

​But someone does.

​...

​Okay so they’re a bit late in leaving the castle, but the days are growing longer so the sun is still high.

There’s been no snow and no rain for days, and even though it’s not warm yet, the wind isn’t too strong or too cold.

​All in all, it’s a great day for a ride.

Montrel’s been looking forward to this for ages now, and Xena seems to be in equally high spirits; draped from head to toe in soft pink and smiles as they pass through the gates and head off towards the plains beyond the city.

For someone who doesn’t have the freedom to just take her horse out whenever she pleases, she’s quite at ease in the saddle and handles her mare with care and confidence.

​Montrel’s hardly surprised. He’s seen firsthand in the leaps and bounds she’s made as an archer in such a short span of time that Xena catches on fast to whatever she puts her mind to.

A lot of the soldiers had humoured her presence at the archery range at first –of the belief that the training grounds were no place for a lady –but he’s pleased to say that she sure showed them.

​At Vogrid’s insistence they rein their horses in to a slow, meandering stroll. It’s an easy pace to chat at, and even though technically they’ve got Gandy up ahead and Vogrid and Rogard equally far behind to scout for dangers, they’re at least far enough out of earshot that it almost feels like they’re getting a moment alone.

And when they are alone –or as alone as they’re allowed to be–it’s surprisingly easy. Courting a princess so far has come with a lot of rules and expectations but Xena’s got this way of putting him at ease with just a look.

Montrel’s misfortune when it comes to women has been a running joke, and something largely attributed to his somewhat f rank and occasionally overly impassioned way of talking, but she always listens eagerly to his rantings and ravings about the comings and goings of the training grounds and whatever strikes his fancy.

She remembers all the soldiers he talks about and asks after the ones he speaks most fondly of, and has figured out that the more expletives he uses to describe someone, the dearer they are to him.