Chapter 58: After Dawn.

Chapter 58: Chapter 58: After Dawn.

"Binny, what the fuck ."

It’s not exactly a polite morning greeting, but considering that Khobi’s just woken in pitch darkness to someone standing ominously at the end of his bed, he’s pretty sure that Binny will give him a pass.

(He does.)

"Good morning to you too," he chirps, far too chipper for what, by Khobi’s measure, is approximately the middle of the night . The candle he’s holding, however, gives him away, the flame highlighting the tiredness in his face, but Khobi misses it as he buries deeper into his pillow to escape the light as it catches his eyes.

"Nnnggghhh," he groans, but Binny’s making it pretty obvious that he’s going nowhere. "What are you doing here?" he grumbles, and as even though it doesn’t exactly come out coherent, Binny seems to get the idea.

"I’m your wakeup call," he explains, putting his candle down on the table and opening the trunk at the end of Khobi’s bed with a completely unnecessary crash. "So...Rise and shine." Khobi groans again and opens a bleary eye to find him rifling around in it for a fresh set of clothes.

"...It’s the middle of the night," he grouses, and something lands on his head. It feels suspiciously like a shirt.

"I’m afraid not," Binny informs him regretfully, glancing towards the window and the darkness outside. "It’s almost dawn, actually. And if I’m not mistaken...you have an appointment at the training grounds that you’re about to be late for."

That wakes him up, a little. Mostly because he has no idea what Binny’s talking about.

" What ." He looks up in time for a pair of pants to hit him in the face. Binny doesn’t look sorry.

"When Drogger says dawn, he means dawn," he says conversationally, and Khobi rubs rubs some of the sleep from his eyes to just check that he’s not imagining the stars he’s seeing out his window. He’s not. There are definitely stars in the sky. The moon too.

"It’s still dark out," he complains, dragging himself upright with a yawn.

"Yeah, I said it’s almost dawn," Binny points out, sparing a glance out the window, "So I’d get ready if I were you. Coz Montrel is going to be here any minute, and he’s going to be in a hur --" Right on cue, there’s a loud bang on Khobi’s door like something heavy has just crashed headfirst into it. And from the pained look Montrel’s wearing when he bursts into the room, that’s exactly what’s happened.

"...Kho --oh, good," he comments, urgency fading a little when he sees Khobi staggering out of bed and into a pair of pants. "You’re up." He breathes a sigh of relief and leans heavily against the doorframe so that he can tug his boots on. Because for some reason he’s run all the way to Khobi’s room in the middle of the night without shoes on.

Honestly, Khobi’s still a bit confused about why there are so many people in his room in the first place at this ungodly hour, but it gets a bit clearer when Montrel peers out the window, sees darkness, and curses.

"Oh fuck, we gotta go ."

"Training grounds?" Khobi inquires dryly as he buttons his pants, just to check that he’s read the situation right. And from the aggrieved look Montrel sends him from the doorway, he’s hit the nail on the head.

"Training grounds," he confirms flatly, and snorts when Binny starts manhandling Khobi into his shirt to hurry him along. Khobi makes an attempt to swat him away but Binny’s tricksy and has deft hands, and somehow manages to dress him and fasten buttons whilst dodging Khobi’s best efforts to dislodge him.

" Hey, Binny, can you not -- oh," Khobi starts to complain, only to realise that Binny’s already stepping away from him.

"All done," he declares cheekily, pressing a wrapped package into his chest with a grin, obviously pleased with himself. Khobi wants to be irritated at him, but he’s actually a bit impressed.

"What’s this?" he inquires, peeling back a corner of the gift and getting a whiff of fresh bread. Breakfast, apparently.

"Better eat on your way down," Binny advises, patting him on the shoulder, and Montrel wholeheartedly agrees.

"Drogger doesn’t joke, kid," he warns darkly, "Especially when it comes to training." From the grim expression he’s wearing, he’s learned that the hard way. He checks the sky again, for some reason, and can’t like what he sees because the next minute he’s tapping agitatedly on the doorframe, "Look, not to rush you, but can you eat and run? Coz we’re gonna have to run."

For apparently not trying to rush him, he’s doing a pretty good job at rushing him.

"Yeah, I gue --"

"Good," Montrel says firmly, and jerks his thumb out towards the hallway as he backs out through the door. "Seriously, kid, we gotta go ."

"I’d listen to him," Binny advises sagely, handing him his boots and nudging Khobi towards the door, "Good luck."

...

Montrel wasn’t kidding.

They ran the entire way, hurtled down endless hallways, leaping whole staircases at a time, and scattering flocks of servants. It brought back an uncanny sense of deja vu for Khobi, but this time there was someone running beside him.

Sometimes ahead of him, in fact.

Montrel was pretty damn fast, and he vaulted down stairs and through windows, and over balconies without fear or hesitation, like it was something he’d been doing for years. And maybe he had been, he seemed to know the route, and all its intricate little shortcuts, by heart. A couple of times Khobi even almost lost him when Montrel had casually ploughed on, and he had to pause to gauge the distance of the drop, or just how many steps he was about to try and clear.

"God, this is so much easier with two people," Montrel huffs as he hauls Khobi up onto a balcony after him, biceps straining under his skin and his face steadily turning a brilliant shade of red.

"What --what are you talking about?" Khobi pants, clambering up over the parapets after him and almost falling onto his face.

" --Usua..." Montrel manages to get out before doubling over and sucking in a deep lungful of air to try catch his breath, "Usually...Training? I’m just...just me.... phew ...climbs hard.... And before --" He winces, breathless, motioning back the way they’d just come, to the several floors they’d just scaled. Khobi gets it. His entire upper body is burning, and that was with Montrel’s help. Without a second body to boost and hoist, he’s not sure he’d still be standing. " --Before," Montrel continues with a gulp, shaking his head incredulously, "...Impossible... Loac ...He...So fast. Never...god....crazy fast."

Khobi takes a break from trying to get oxygen back to his muscles to stare at him.

"...What?" He deadpans, huffing heavily, "He did that?"

"Yeah. That and some." Montrel spits out the window and cracks his neck, and Khobi can see he’s about ready to start running again. "...He was a fucking nightmare to chase after, that kid.

"--Learned some great shortcuts from him though."

...

They’re still late.

And they’re not the only ones.

By the time they stagger out into the training grounds, sweating, panting, and in Khobi’s case, shoeless, the sun is starting to peek up over the horizon, and there are already shattered looking soldiers in various states of undress prostrated before the Second Captain, and begging for what looks to be their lives.

Drogger is having none of it.

A couple of them are sobbing. It’s a little bit sad, really.

"I said dawn," Drogger says as they stumble to a halt a few feet away from him, voice flat and eyebrows drawn down tight into a stern scowl. There are little creases in his forehead that indicate that it’s probably an expression he wears often.

It’s not particularly dignified, but Khobi dumps himself on the ground and starts untangling his shoelaces as Montrel ignores the fact that no one else has succeeded in swaying the jury, and takes his turn at pleading their case.

"You’re late," Drogger cuts in first, arms folded across his chest. He’s looking up at Montrel, but the soldier somehow looks smaller.

"Aw, come on, Captain, by like ten minutes ," Montrel complains.

"I said dawn," Drogger repeats, glancing briefly over his shoulder to the swiftly rising sun.

"Yeah, and it’s like barely dawn --" he points out, and gets a long-suffering eye roll from his captain, who is obviously getting a little tired of repeating himself. .

"Laps, Montrel," he declares, and then reassesses when he sees Khobi folded over behind him, panting heavily and trying to yank his boots on between breaths. "...Both of you." Montrel lets out a stubborn whine and Khobi looks up incredulously.

" Laps ?" he gasps, the word coming out high and winded as he tries to catch his breath. Drogger gives him a grim smile, thin lips, no teeth, and jerks his head towards the distance where it quickly becomes apparent that he means exactly what Khobi thinks he means.

No way.

He shoots Montrel a look, and there’s no misunderstanding the melodramatic way he’s dragging his feet and gazing mournfully out towards the distance.

Yes, way.

"Sun’s rising," Drogger informs them, as if they needed reminding. Khobi’s managed to get his shoes on, but getting back on his feet’s going to be a different story. His thighs are burning and they are not thrilled by the prospect of more running. Frankly, he’s with them, but no one gets anywhere by giving up, and he’s definitely not one to quit when things get hard. So he sucks it up, and drags himself back to his feet as the Second turns away from them to address the next wave of tardy newcomers. "So I’d get running."

It’s a suggestion not only meant for them, and elicits noises of dismay from the men unfortunate enough not to beat the sun to the training grounds. None of them look too motivated to move any time soon.

"Idiots," Montrel scoffs at them, stretching out a hamstring, like it was going to be any use at this point. "--Shoulda just started running when they got here..." Obviously he’s happy to pretend he didn’t try to haggle with their captain just like the rest of them. "I told you to hurry up," he adds reproachfully as he scans the edges of the training ground, gauging the perimeter and not at all liking the distance that he sees. "Laps are the worst."

Khobi can see what he means. If the other figures bobbing in the distance are anything to go by, a lap by Drogger’s measure is a lap around the entire training grounds. Which is a pretty decent distance. "....But we have to run em?" he asks dryly, because he’s really getting the feeling that when Drogger says jump, you don’t even ask how high , you just fucking jump and hope it’s high enough.

"Yeah," Montrel answers, just as dry, even though Khobi already knew the answer. It’s not so bad, he thinks. They’re just laps. It’s just running, and he’s pretty good at that. And if that’s all he has to do to be allowed back here, then he’ll do it.

He’s not going back to being locked up in a cell. Not after he’s tasted how sweet the air is out here. Not when he knows what days can be made of.

So he drops into step with Montrel, who, despite all his complaints and general negative attitude to the punishment they’ve just been dealt out, still sends him a wicked look from the corner of his eye.

"...Hope you can keep up."