Chapter 60: A Servant A Friend.

Chapter 60: Chapter 60: A Servant A Friend.

Eating in the servants’ quarters is a very different experience to eating in the mess hall.

Up there with the soldiers the long tables are almost always packed fit to bursting, and there’s always drinking and shouting and hostile glares thrown in his direction.

Fewer than there used to be, sure, but still enough that he feels them burning holes in the back of his head. Down here, it’s different.

It’s laid out the same, with long tables and hearty fireplaces, but the faces seated are ever changing, the servants are there one second and gone the next, off into the castle to go do all the things that servants do.

The kitchens are up the stairs, and Khobi can tell when there are no nobles in earshot because the hall breaks out in song.

Binny, sitting across the table from Khobi, cheerfully hums along with them as steaming bowls of stew are dumped in front of them.

"Ooh, looks delicious~" he chirps, leaning over his plate and breathing deeply. Khobi shares the sentiment, and notes that his bowl is considerably bigger.

The servant girl gives him a deeply reproachful and meaningful look that Khobi’s pretty sure relates to his presence there, but Binny just waves her off.

"--It’s cool, he’s with me," he explains, "Don’t worry, you’re not going to get in trouble."

"That’s real reassuring, coming from you," the girl sniffs, folding her arms across her chest nervously, and Khobi’s gotta say he agrees with her. There’s an air of mischief about Binny and he’s obviously not the only one who’s noticed.

"Oh come now, don’t you trust your big brother?" Binny chuckles, and the fondness in his smile is enough to loosen some of the tension in her shoulders, "Khobi, this is my baby sister by the way, my pride and joy --"

"--Son, can you not?" She has Binny’s eyes, and evidently, his sass. "And no, I don’t. You were meant to be in the east wing a half hour ago --"

"I know, I know, I’m going, I’m going," Binny assures her, making a point of inhaling a huge spoonful of stew and burning his mouth on it.

"Things took a bit longer down at the stables than I thought they would." It’s mostly the truth, but not all of it. He hadn’t eaten today, and well, neither had Khobi, who’d been at the training ground since dawn for the umpteenth day running, so he’d figured that it couldn’t hurt to make a brief stop at the kitchens.

Honestly, at first he’d had a little trouble believing that Khobi, the bottomless stomach, hadn’t gotten around to eating, but he’d been so dedicated to the training ground in days of late that Binny had conceded that sometimes, priorities changed.

His sister isn’t buying it, but she lets it slide because they’re in company, and she knows better than he ever did that servants should hold their tongues around noblemen.

He’s told her before that she doesn’t have to worry --that Khobi’s not the usual breed of noble --but she’s a little past the age where his word alone is enough to convince her of anything.

"Okay, well..." she doesn’t have anything more to say when Binny crosses his heart that he’ll go straight to the east wing after he’s eaten. "...Enjoy your lunch."

"Thanks," Khobi says, mouth full of stew, and his sister surprises all of them by giggling when broth drips off his chin.

She immediately claps a hand over her mouth in horror, but Khobi just blinks, wipes his chin off with his sleeve, and nods approvingly. "It’s good."

Binny snickers into his stew and she cuffs him on the back of the head as she slinks off.

" Ow ?" He calls after her, mock wounded, and laughs good-naturedly when she ignores him. "Ah, they grow up so fast..." He blows on his stew and tries not to burn his mouth again. It doesn’t work. It’s good, but it’s obviously fresh from the pot and way too hot.

Somehow, Khobi’s almost finished his.

"You almost ready to go?" he asks, and Binny has to stop his mouth from dropping open.

"Uhh, still workin’ on mine," he chuckles, taking another sip of his broth. Khobi shrugs, stretches, and then groans as the motion pulls something in his back. "Still hurting, huh?"

"Yeah," Khobi grumbles, working his fingers into his shoulder and then turning his attention to his thighs, "I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be a crazier drill sergeant than my aunt."

Binny laughs at that.

"Drogger got you running laps, huh?" he snickers and Khobi hangs his head in despair.

" So many fucking laps. "

"Yeah, he’s known for that. And for his endless drills," Binny admits, and from the way Khobi grimaces, he’s already become well acquainted with those as well. Drogger is a captain with a reputation for building great soldiers, ones with discipline, enormous strength and incredible skill, but such things never come easy, and a lot of men are quick to forget that. "...Have you tried maybe... not being late ?"

From the glare he receives, Khobi’s definitely tried that, and for some reason or another, it hasn’t worked.

"Right," Binny deadpans, and rolls his eyes. "Well, next time you miss lunch, feel free to come down here and grab some.

There’s always someone in the kitchens. They’ll fix you up with something." He picks up his bowl with both hands and raises it to his lips. He’d best get going, after all. "And if you’re real nice, they might even help you out if you get a bit snacky in the middle of the night."

His mouth is totally burned up, but what does it matter, he’s not meant to be using it anyways. "Okay, I better get goin’. Are you going back to the training grounds?"

"Uh, probably," Khobi shrugs, because he kinda doesn’t really know where else he’d go. And there’s really nowhere in the castle he’d rather be. He gets up from his seat, legs definitely still stiff but slowly getting used to the punishment they’ve been receiving. "Where are you going?"

"East wing," Binny replies, getting to his feet as another servant swoops by and scoops up their empty bowls. "It’ll be empty right now coz a lot of the nobles will be in the throne room. The princess is holding court today and they like knowing what’s going on. Who’s getting taxed,who’s getting married, and all that."

Khobi finds it hard to believe that it’s just the nobles that like going, and his hunch proves correct when Binny turns to him with a wicked grin.

"C’mon, we’ll go check it out. It’s on the way, anyways."

...

Khobi can’t say he’s thrilled by the idea of voluntarily entering a giant hall packed fit to bursting with nobles at their most scathing and critical, but Binny’s got the conspiratorial gleam of a young troublemaker in his eyes, and Khobi knows that look.

That look got him in a lot of trouble when he was a kid. It got everyone in trouble, but that was partly the fun of it. If they all got caught stealing treats, then they all got caught, and they all took the punishment, and then they all laughed about it after.

It makes Khobi feel young again.

Young, and a part of something.

Binny has that kind of effect on him.

He wonders if he knows.

...

Binny knows.

It was a talent of his, he’d once been told, by a pretty young girl with hair like silk.

And when he’d frowned at her and asked her what she meant, she’d giggled like he was silly, and pointed at the knife he was twirling between two fingers.

It wasn’t his. It belonged to the boy sitting in the courtyard beneath them, the one with his nose in a book, being needled by the two young troublemakers either side of him, and doing his utmost to ignore them. They both remember a time when the boy sat alone.

(He’d just asked Binny to hold onto it.)

(He didn’t say for how long, and Binny had humoured him, and promised that he’d take good care of it.)

And the girl laughs, as they watch the scene below them

("Just this once?" one’s saying, with eyes bright and sparkling with mischief, a vivid, endless blue. " Come on, just one fight !"

"Aw, please!" the other begs, pouting mightily and threatening a tantrum when his pleas fall on deaf ears, "You’re no fun, Vector! Binny says you’re really good!")

It’s a talent of yours , she says again, voice kind and full of endless joy, as Binny spies a glint of green eyes, calling to him, and pockets the knife.

The book snaps shut, and catches Spidra on the nose. Probably on purpose.

Definitely on purpose.

"Come, Binny." Binny’s already bouncing up onto the railing before the words come, ready to drop in to the rescue. It’s time to go. They’ve won, worn him down again.

They always do.

Not that he’ll never admit it.

"Coming, Vogrid!" he hollers, and the princess’ words make him grin.

...Befriending those who didn’t think they wanted a friend.