Chapter 437: Probably.

Chapter 437: Chapter 437: Probably.

Gurdet gestures for a refill. Loac holds out his for another, too. It’s embarrassing in that it feels like progress, somehow.

​"Xena mentioned you’ve got some people in mind for your retinue." Gurdet is running out of avenues.

And for a second there where Loac’s fingers curl just a little too tight around his goblet he’s worried that he’s just stepped right into one of the particularly explosively ones.

​"...Person," Loac corrects after a beat, albeit not enthusiastically. "...Just the one."

​"Oh." Gurdet hadn’t realised how ready he was flinch until his shoulders relax. "...Might I inquire as to who that is?"

​"Rogard."

​"Rogard Spidra?"

​"No, his dad." Okay, perhaps he deserved that. "Yeah, Rogard Spidra."

​Gurdet makes a sound of understanding, and Loac looks a little surprised when he comments, "You two were close as children, if I recall."

​"We were," he mumbles, throwing in a small shrug as he adds, a little quieter, "And I wouldn’t mind having him watch my back, I guess."

​"...I’m glad to hear that," Gurdet admits, and is a little surprised by how much he means it. "We all need good men to stand beside us now and then."

It’s difficult to tell what his nephew means by the noise he makes, but he likes to think it was a sound of agreement. And while it seems to be a touchy subject these days, Gurdet thinks it’s a fair enough segue given the current line of conversation, if it can be called that, to follow up with, "...Has Khobi? Chosen a retinue, that is?"

​It suddenly comes to his attention that since having his goblet refilled, Loac hasn’t taken another drink. Instead, he’s just swilling it around the rim of his goblet, seeing how deep he can turn it before it spills.

​"I guess so," he eventually replies, "He...mentioned a couple of guys."

​"Wonderful," Gurdet hums vacantly, "That’s wonderful."

​And just like that the silence descends again. It feels even heavier this time, if that were possible.

Gurdet continues to sip his way to the bottom of his goblet, watching carefully as his nephew continues to play with his.

​"...He’s gonna need em, right?" he suddenly says out of nowhere.

A lick of wine spills over the rim, red dripping down the goblet and staining the dark skin of his fingers deep red, and Gurdet finds himself caught off guard by the abrupt sharpness in his voice; completely at odds with his hesitant tone of just earlier.

​"Well, it’s tradition, so of course –"

​"And what about Silas?" Loac growls darkly, setting his goblet down and agitatedly smoothing both hands out along his thighs like he’s trying to keep them from balling into fists.

"He’s coming, isn’t he?"

​"...Well, seeing as this is his arrangement, yes , he will be in attendance as our ally and as our guest," Gurdet replies, tone light but growing ever more cautious as Loac grows ever more careless with the emotions swirling behind his eyes.

Over his tenure as a king Gurdet has gotten excellent at discerning just what a man’s eyes project from within, and knows that what he’s seeing is fury.

"...He’s probably on his way here as we speak –Loac, you know all this. What’s this really about?"

​It’s not like Gurdet to be curious about his nephew’s state of mind, and it’s not like Loac to be open about it, but perhaps it doesn’t have to always be that way.

​"Tai –" Loac cuts himself off at the first syllable, and Gurdet doesn’t have time to ponder what an interesting syllable it is indeed before he sucks in a breath and tries again.

"...Khobi told me about what it was like there," he tells him, eyes narrowed and voice cast low with thinly, thinly bridled rage, "In Briyagi."

​Ah.

​"Did he now?" Suddenly, Gurdet’s wine tastes off, and he too sets it down with distaste. "...I can’t imagine that was a fun conversation."

​"No," Loac tells him icily, and while his eyes are cast down he looks not sad, but angry .

Terrifyingly angry, in fact. And even though it’s intended not for him but for a man half a world away that Loac has never met, Gurdet flinches.

" It wasn’t ."

He’s given up on trying to keep his hands under control, and now the ice in his eyes is started to follow; leaking out and frosting over and sinking a dread chill into everything it touches.

If Gurdet wasn’t holding his breath, he’s sure it would fog the moment it left his lungs.

​"You’ve been before, right?" he barks through gritted teeth.

​"...I have." It feels like the wrong thing to say, because it has Loac’s expression darkening and tension coiling his body tight, but it’s the truth.

​"So you knew."

​It’s not so much a question as an accusation.

​You knew what it was like there.

​Gurdet grimaces, unable to meet his gaze.

"Some."

​"Then why the fuck would you want an alliance with someone like him."

Being yelled at by his nephew was one thing. Hearing him so venomous is another thing entirely.

​"I didn’t have a choice, Loac," Gurdet tells him quietly, even though he knows it’s not what he wants to hear.

Personally, he knows only but a little of the horrors that await Silas’s enemies in Briyagi, and whatever else Khobi’s told his nephew has left him seething. "It was either an alliance or risk war."

​Loac scoffs derisively. "...Sounds like a choice to me."

​Ah, sweet, sweet nephew.

​" –Not if I want to keep my people safe," he replies, keeping his voice firm but deliberately low, lest he anger him further.

It’s a clear day out, but sitting here it feels as though there’s thunder rolling in on the horizon.

"Not if I want there to be a kingdom left for my daughter and her children. For you and yours. Sometimes as rulers, we have to do things that are distasteful."

He doesn’t need to see the look of utter contempt that crosses his nephew’s expression to know that it’s a useless effort trying to reason with him; trying to justify his actions.

There’ll be no reason on this earth good enough for him. Not now. Not like this.

​"...He’s gonna try something," Loac glowers, reaching for his wine again like the discussion has left a sour taste in his mouth that he’d like to wash away.

" I know he is ."

​Good instinct, dear boy. Gurdet would be a fool to be convinced otherwise.

​"...Do I need to worry about what you might do?" he inquires quietly, and Loac’s expression darkens ever further as he offers him a simple, chilling shrug.

​"Probably."