Chapter 422: Right Fitting.

Chapter 422: Chapter 422: Right Fitting.

Khobi’s not entirely sure what Xena’s doing here, but he suspects that Gurdet might have been a little concerned about the safety of his tailor and thought it prudent to send a mediator.

A reasonable assumption. And a good call, in hindsight, although he wouldn’t put it past Xena to have volunteered. She seems to be really enjoying herself.

​That makes one of them. Two, maybe. Loac seems to be enjoying watching.

​At being addressed the princess looks up from whatever she’s absorbed in over at the table, and doesn’t quite manage to completely stop her face from scrunching when she catches sight of him.

​"Oh no ," she states in dismay, immediately abandoning whatever it is she’s been doing and coming over to assess the damage. From the look on her face it’s considerable and she and the tailor exchange despairing looks. "Oh, this is all wrong."

​"It’s as I said, Your Highness," he tuts, as Khobi catches sight of his reflection and grimaces.

He’s not usually fussy about what he wears, but he draws the line at something that makes him look like the unholy offspring of a giant cream pie and a scrotum.

Which is what this nightmarish creation has somehow accomplished. "This texture..."

​" –Lemme see," Loac snickers, popping up and craning his neck so that he can get a good view of him in the mirror.

It can’t be a good sign that he bursts out laughing the moment he sees; not even trying to disguise a grin as he splutters, "Wow, you look bad ."

​"Hey, shut up , no one asked you!" Khobi growls back crossly, and flinches as the tailor begins aggressively plucking out all the pins he’s meticulously placed to spike him every time he breathes. "How come you don’t have to do this?"

​"They already got my measurements," Loac shrugs, and flashes him an easy smirk as he reclines back, arms tugged behind his head, "And I look good in everything, so..."

​If Khobi could bend his arms without getting stabbed he’d throw something at him.

​"I’m sorry about him, Khobi," Xena whispers, dropping her voice as the tailor backs away towards his ridiculous selection of fabrics muttering under his breath. "He can be very... particular ."

​He can be an asshole , is what.

​"Why do I need something like this anyways?" Khobi grumbles, flapping at a loose piece of fabric with distaste.

When Gurdet had said something about dressing nice for a change, he’d just assumed he’d have to wear something that Rogard would pick out.

He hadn’t considered that there were worse options. There are so many goddamned layers . "What’s wrong with armour?" Armour’s comfortable. It’s practical. And he actually looks good in armour.

​"Ah, it’s considered distasteful on your wedding day," Xena explains, stepping aside to thoughtfully survey the tailor’s wares –presumably for something less scrotum-like.

"You see, it implies that you don’t trust the person you’re marrying."

​"... So what’s the problem then ?" Khobi deadpans, and seeing as he’s still strung up like a scarecrow, has no choice but to let the pillow that Loac tosses at him smack him in the back of the head. " See ?"

​"Indeed," the tailor hums bemusedly, thumbing across a few different, and somehow more horrifying textures of fabric and making a concerning noise of approval when he finds a particular one, "Although I must say, your betrothed isn’t usually the one you have to worry about.

It’s usually, you know...Disapproving fathers. Jealous lovers. Enemies . Surprisingly violent, weddings." He holds up a new selection for the princess to assess, and seems to agree when she shakes her head.

"Why, if I had a gold for every wedding I’ve attended where there was an attempt on the groom’s life... well , I’d have more gold than you’d expect."

​" Great ," Khobi deadpans, "Good to know."

​" –Don’t worry, Khobi, you’ll have protection," Xena pipes up, offering him a reassuring smile. Khobi wasn’t worried. He is now .

"That’s what your retinue is for."

​"What’s a retinue?" Khobi inquires with a frown, finally able to breathe a little easier as the tailor starts unwrapping him from the ungodly creation he’s got him layered in.

Unfortunately, it looks like he’s already got a whole new ensemble ready to bundle him up in. It somehow looks worse. "Rogard said something about it once but –"

​"...Hah? Why was Rogard talking about it?" Loac interjects with a frown, and Khobi immediately fumbles for a believable lie because for someone who so enjoys discussing his private life, Rogard’s been surprisingly shy about the fact that Drogger wants to marry him.

​"...It...came up."

​(Nailed it.)

​" Right ."

​Okay, so maybe not. But Xena jumps in before Loac can press the issue, nattering on about how it’s a time-honoured Crade tradition, entrusting a select few with the duty of standing beside and protecting them on their wedding day.

Apparently the tailor hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that weddings could be violent. It’s largely historical, she makes sure to assure him, but the tradition has endured.

​" Lame ," Loac chimes in from the bed, "Who needs anything like that? The only one who can protect me is me."

​It’s a shame that laughing makes every pin in Khobi’s nightmare of an outfit stab him at the same time.

​"That was the lamest thing I’ve ever heard," he splutters, tears beading in his eyes as he fights the urge to double over and clutch at his stomach.

Affronted by his laughter, Loac throws another pillow at him.

​"Don’t listen to Loac," Xena insists, as Khobi takes it right to the back of the head and whips around to glare daggers back at her cousin. "It’s a lovely tradition."

​" Sure ."

​"It’s an important day, surely you would want your most precious friends to be there with you," she presses, like she can’t even imagine why he wouldn’t.

And it’s not that Khobi wouldn’t; it’s just that he’d kind of figured that since he didn’t have any say in the marriage, he wasn’t gonna get any say in anything else about it either.

​The tailor’s monstrosity; case in point.

​"...Is that even... allowed ?" he ventures with a frown.

​"Well, I mean...they’re meant to be your closest and most trusted friends," Xena says, her expression pinching and then hardening as she promises, "I’ll talk to Father.

That is...if there’s anyone you’re considering...?" It’s a loaded question, and one that she seems to already know the answer to without even needing to see the way his expression visibly softens.

​Precious friends, huh? That he can trust to protect him?

​Yeah, he thinks he’s got a couple of those.