Chapter 101 - 100: Outside The Castle Walls.

Chapter 101: Chapter 100: Outside The Castle Walls.

Bongo sighs to himself, and wonders when exactly his own men became so difficult.

"Oh come on, Captain, have a heart," Montrel complains, like he’s the one who’s being unreasonable.

Bongo’s not sure if it’s his intent to sound like a hard-done-by child, but that’s how it comes out.

"Montrel," he repeats wearily, for what feels like the hundredth time, "You do know what it is you’re asking, don’t you?"

"’Course I do," he scoffs, "I wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t."

"That’s reassuring, and all," Bongo replies patiently, "But I’m not sure you do. You know Khobi’s situation, Montrel. You know that I can’t just let him go walking out into the city whenever he feels like it."

"I know that," Montrel snorts, rolling his eyes impatiently. Bongo doesn’t mind, but wonders if he would speak to Gurdet so petulantly.

"And that’s not what I’m asking!"

"Isn’t it?" Because that’s exactly what it sounds like he’s asking.

"...It’s just one time," he defends, and Bongo can’t stop himself from sighing again, "Just for a couple of hours? Everyone is going."

He’s not even exaggerating.

Over the coming days, most of the castle and half the city will spill out onto the plains to venture through the maze of colourful tents that has made camp outside the city walls.

It’s not yet gypsy season, as such, but the fires already burn late into the night, and on a clear day like today their bright music carries on the wind even up into the castle.

But the revelries are about to start, and in a big way, too. And Montrel is starting to sound very much like a child trying to convince his friend’s parents to let them go out and play.

"That’s hardly the point," Bongo reminds him sternly, since ’because everyone else is going’ is hardly a good enough reason for him to let a political prisoner, a controversial, somewhat volatile one at that, out among the populace.

Heaven knows he’s already caused quite a stir within the castle itself.

"I can’t agree to this, Montrel."

"That’s not fair. What you gotta keep punishing Khobi for, huh?" he grumbles, and honestly Bongo doesn’t think he’s being at all unfair.

"He’s not allowed to have fun?"

Bongo has nothing against Khobi. In fact, he thinks he’s a nice kid, with a good heart.

But to hear Montrel talk, you’d think he was the one who had him shipped off to Briyagi in the first place.

He’s been privy to an awful lot of conversations like this over the years.

The princess and her father rarely saw eye to eye, even at the best of times, after all. He’s not so familiar with being a part of it though, and he can’t say he’s enjoying it nearly as much as His Majesty seemed to.

"Now, Montrel—" he tries again, because as much as he would like to grant his request, as much as he would like for Khobi to go out with his friends and get up to whatever mischief it is that young people got up to these days, the situation is a little more complicated than that, and—

"Oh, go on, Bongo," Gurdet interrupts, not even looking up from the paperwork he’s been poring over for much of the conversation.

Bongo hadn’t even realised he’d been listening.

He’s confessed to finding Montrel’s voice grating and tends to tune him out a lot of the time.

Both Bongo and Montrel stare at him, one gawking more than the other.

"It’s just for a few hours," Gurdet points out, frowning at his paper and then scratching something he deemed appropriate.

"How much trouble can he get into?"

Bongo doesn’t answer that, because Gurdet knows full well just how much trouble Khobi can get himself into in just a few minutes, let alone hours.

"Your Majesty," Bongo says meaningfully, voice somewhat strained, because of course this is the time his king chooses not to back him.

It’s not an outright protest, but it’s close enough to it that Gurdet raises an eyebrow at him.

"Exactly," Montrel grins, saluting his king and getting ignored for his efforts, "What’s the harm? It’s not like he’s going alone. We’ll be with him the whole time. On my honour, sir."

"...Because you have such a good track record when it comes to minding princes," Gurdet remarks dryly, looking up over his glasses and giving the soldier a reproachful look.

Montrel at least has the grace to look a little embarrassed.

"Khobi’s...more cooperative than Loac," he points out, and Bongo can’t entirely disagree with him there. "Look, Captain, he’ll behave."

It’s rare that a conversation has the ability to exhaust Bongo.

Patience is a virtue, and one needed wealths of it to serve a king like Gurdet so closely. He’s never wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose so much.

"...You’ll vouch for him?" he presses, wishing that Gurdet hadn’t put him in this situation.

Saying no had made him feel bad because he liked the kid, and he liked the fact that he’d somehow won over his own guards enough that they would go this far for him.

He’s sure that there are at least two, possibly as many as four more of them waiting outside to hear the verdict.

But for some reason saying yes now almost feels worse. Like he’s given in too easily.

"Uh," Montrel says, "I guess so?"

"A yes or no would be nice, Montrel."

"Then yes. Captain. I’ll vouch for him."

Bongo’s never heard Montrel so liberal with the appropriate title.

Apart from the brazen defiance, he’s on his best behaviour. Bongo’s not sure whether to be proud or troubled by that.

"Fine," he finally relents, and cuts off his soldier’s premature celebration by adding, "But only for a few hours. Have him back before sunset."

"But—"

"Montrel," Bongo says, more firmly this time, and Montrel’s complaint snaps shut behind his jaw.

"...Before sunset," he repeats back once prompted, just so Bongo knows he understands.

Because he’s not having them sneak back through the castle gates past midnight, drunk off their faces claiming to have misunderstood the conditions of their agreement.

"Got it, Captain."

Why doesn’t he feel reassured?

"Montrel," he repeats, because he’s not sure the soldier has quite grasped the gravity of the situation.

Or of the consequences if anything goes wrong.

It’s true that Khobi’s been well behaved as of late, but once outside the walls...

"If anything happens..."

"Nothing’s gonna happen, Captain," Montrel assures him, more seriously, like he does actually understand. Which comes as some small relief.

"And uh...thanks."

Bongo feels like he’s just aged ten years. And sold his soul.

"...Just watch yourselves, okay?" he says stoically.

There are a lot of strangers in their lands at the moment, and not all of them are here to make friends, or sober.

Montrel responds by giving him the crispest salute of his life and bows deeply before turning to leave.

"Montrel," His Majesty calls out as an afterthought, and the soldier pauses, hand on the door, "Will you please make sure he gets something appropriate to wear for the ball? Xena is just beside herself with worry that he won’t have anything to wear.

Or will turn up in bloodstained armour, or something."

"Ah," Montrel says, brow furrowing like he’s only just remembered that there is, in fact, going to be a ball.

And that he, himself, will also have to show up wearing something other than bloodstained armour.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

He makes sure to shut the door very respectfully behind him.

It does little to drown out the noises of celebration on the other side.

Bongo just drags a hand down his face and wonders where he’s gone wrong with his life.

"What do you think, Bongo?" Gurdet inquires curiously, watching his ink dry like his own words are truly fascinating. "Is Khobi going to behave himself? Your men seem convinced."

"Your men," Bongo corrects dryly, and regrets his tone a little when his king raises an eyebrow at him, saying nothing.

"I think...I think he’s been true enough to his word so far."

"Apart from getting in a brawl with my nephew?"

"True enough," Bongo emphasises, which he thinks is a good enough point considering Gurdet hadn’t been concerned enough about said brawl to imprison, or even relocate his fiancée.

"True enough," Gurdet concedes, and glances up as Bongo sighs again.

Gurdet overturned his decision, but the one he’d made was definitely the right one. And yet, inexplicably, he feels like the bad guy.

Ever perceptive, his king seems to understand.

"Try having children, Bongo," he snorts, rolling his eyes. "Trust me, it’s not nearly as rewarding as everyone would have you believe."