Chapter 402: Snapped

Chapter 402: Chapter 402: Snapped

Xena wishes she had started coming by the training grounds sooner.

Even when she’s not at one of her lessons there’s so much to enjoy about the training grounds.

It’s such a bustling, industrious kind of place; so noisy and interesting smelling, and full of sounds and sights rarely seen by ladies.

It’s so strange to her how good princesses are expected to dedicate so much time to arts like history and geography and political negotiation, but warfare falls so often to their fathers or husbands or brothers.

History is wrought with violence; it makes no sense for a ruler to have no knowledge of such things. Xena has sat in many courts where ladies sit and let others speak for them, and she does not plan on being one of them.

​Drogger and Bongo have been most wonderful in that regard. Both of them have had their fair share of experience in the field and have been more than happy to (if surprised by) answer any questions she has. And she has so many questions.

Not just about their foes but about their friends and their own army. What they’re good at. What they’re not. How the terrain of Crade aids in its protection and where it’s weak.

Crade is renowned for its swordsmanship, but other kingdoms have fearsome companies of elite archers, and others still could run rings around their soldiers on horseback.

​It’s fascinating.

​Father disapproves, but he doesn’t order them to stop.

​And it’s certainly a favourite topic of discussion with Montrel; he can talk blades and horses for hours, and she always likes how pleased he looks when she joins in with her thoughts.

Never once has he dismissed her opinion or suggestion as being silly; he always considers what she’s said, and if by chance she’s wrong he’ll tell her why. But it’s nice that she’s not often wrong.

He even told her once that she’d probably make a good Captain; one who did their paperwork, too, unlike some. She’d laughed, because she’d thought it was a joke, but he hadn’t seemed to find anything strange about what he’d said, and pointed out that Khobi’s aunt had been something like a Captain in Scargga.

​After her tea with Khobi, Xena had read all that she could about Scargga. About Khojin Frost, and Mozry. Mozry in particular had sounded quite terrifying.

​She’s decided that she would quite like to meet them one day.

​Drogger dips his head to her as he spies her approaching, and she tries not to smile too hard in case he thinks she’s laughing as she watches her cousin run off with his friends.

He’s saying some very angry words, but she can see the grin in his eyes and the lightness of his heart and she can tell he’s having fun.

It’s nice to see that some of them are still in high spirits; the training grounds in general seem to be lacking a little in vigor today.

She’s already decided not to linger too long out here; her pretty, heavy silks are positively sweltering today even with the parasol and her handmaidens are already starting to look a little faint from the heat.

​"Xena," Montrel greets in surprise. Xena would love to be able to step in and maybe accept a kiss on the cheek, but even that much is entirely inappropriate in this setting. Maybe one day, though. "I didn’t know you were coming today."

​"It was so nice out I couldn’t resist," she admits, offering a sympathetic look when she sees just how knackered the men are looking.

And then abruptly decides to look somewhere else because it’s not polite for ladies to ogle shirtless men. "...A little warm for spring, though."

​Especially men who happen to be courting her.

​That would be very inappropriate.

​Ah well, she’s been doing all sorts of things not appropriate for princesses these days. What’s the harm in just one more? So when Montrel hollers for Jaga to toss him a waterskin, she...sneaks a little look.

​Oh .

She already knew that Montrel was handsome –in her entirely objective opinion the most handsome man in the castle, even –but who knew that under all those layers of armour and fabric and steel...

​He looks exceptionally strong.

​A flush starts to rise into her cheeks, and when Montrel glances her way with water dripping off his chin and the sweat setting his hair askew she suddenly has to find something –anything –else to look at.

It’s not like she’s never seen the male form before, but there’s something different and kind of thrilling about it being someone she’s kissed.

​Suddenly she knows why her father has made it his life’s work to never be caught off balance.

​It is a very strange feeling.

​"If you’re looking for Loac, you just missed him," Montrel informs her, gesturing vaguely towards the distance where she has already seen her cousin’s back disappearing in a cloud of dust.

"Those idiots got themselves in trouble again. Well, Gandy got them in trouble, but whatever."

​"I’m sure it was only a matter of time," she remarks, and while it was more observation than joke, she feels quite pleased with herself when it makes Montrel and his men laugh.

​" Thank you , Your Highness," Gandy states, dipping his head deferentially.

​"...Why is Binny running with them?" she inquires curiously, because she’s seen many different combinations of faces paying their dues but the servant has never been one of them.

​"Dunno," Montrel shrugs, knocking back another mouthful of water, "Guess Drogger finally snapped."

It turns out that today Drogger has decided to implement a really fun policy around laps.

​That being, once you start running, you never stop .

​The only thing that made it in the least bit bearable was that at some point in the day, Ynoro –to the delight of everyone –had caught the Captain redhanded in complaining about the heat in a moment of weakness.

And Drogger was nothing if not a man who led by example.

So at a look from his faithful friend, off came his shirt and off he went; back straight, jaw set, and head held high as he set a punishing, steady pace that while not the most impassioned, wavered for no man.

In fact, by the time training winds down for the day, while he’s red from his hairline to his waistline and just as drenched in sweat as the rest of them, he’s the only one who hasn’t flagged to the brink of death.

​(Gandy would later report that the difference in Drogger’s time to complete his first lap and his last varied by mere seconds. Which honestly begged the question of what the fuck he’d been doing all day and just how exactly he’d managed to do it without getting caught.)