Chapter 115 - 114: The Start Of The Tournament.

Chapter 115: Chapter 114: The Start Of The Tournament.

Gurdet always forgets how dull archery is.

"...Remind me again why I agreed to an entire day of archery," he complains, resisting the urge to yawn as yet another arrow finds its mark with a thunk, and prompts the crowd to let out a round of polite applause.

Unbelievably, some of the spectators actually cheer, as though this isn’t something they haven’t already seen half a dozen times this morning.

It’s nice that they’re supporting their respective princes and all, but surely no one actually enjoys watching archery this much.

"...Because it’s a specialty in the east and you wanted to make all their princes and best archers look bad in front of as many kingdoms as possible?" his daughter replies without missing a beat, although it’s somewhat lacking in disapproval.

She must be tired too, although whether that’s strictly his fault or because of the event they’re currently observing is debatable.

"Oh, so you have been keeping up," he remarks dryly, "Very good, Xena. I must say I’m relieved."

"You brought this on yourself," she reminds him, and claps along politely as the next set of archers step up to take their turn at boring the audience senseless.

She’s right, of course, but one of the perks of being a ruler was supposed to be that he didn’t have to suffer consequences for his actions.

She won’t like it if he says that, so he keeps it to himself. He’s already bored stiff; if she gets too much more high and mighty on him he might just pass out in his seat.

Which, considering how long today is feeling, might just about be preferable.

As if to rub it in his face, Khobi lets out a particularly obnoxious snore from the other side of the booth.

Slumped in his seat, legs outstretched and head lolling; he’s unashamedly asleep; clear boredom on display for the entire kingdom to see, and looks so obscenely comfortable that Gurdet finds himself almost jealous.

The snore makes Xena wince a little. People are staring. And of course they are. They’re supposedly here to celebrate a marriage between two princes, but one of them is clearly uninterested in the proceedings, and the other isn’t even there.

The seat next to Khobi’s; set in pride of place and all decked out in Crade colours for the occasion, is glaringly vacant.

It’s a bad look; one half of the unhappy couple vanished off the face of the earth, and the other sleeping his way through his own engagement celebration.

It’s a good thing he’s built a solid reputation, and that Vogrid is such an excellent archer, or Crade would be a laughing stock of a kingdom right now.

"Do you want me to wake him up, Your Majesty?" Bongo inquires quietly, nodding in Khobi’s direction.

His mouth’s open now, and Gurdet’s fairly certain that the guard standing behind him is tempted to try putting something in it.

And as funny as that would undoubtedly be, the public stage is really not the one for that sort of thing. Bongo clearly seems to share his opinion.

"Wake him up?" Gurdet scoffs, rolling his eyes, "I can’t believe you let him fall asleep to begin with."

"Sorry, Your Majesty."

He’s sure it’s a bad sign that Bongo doesn’t really seem sorry.

So he turns to the guard standing diligently (for the most part) behind Khobi’s seat upon their royal booth, who has been eyeing Loac’s empty seat for the better part of the morning.

Bongo’s used to standing for hours on end attending him --Montrel, it seems, hasn’t had the practice, and isn’t very good at hiding how much he’d like to just sit down.

"Montrel, wake him up, would you?" he orders, and takes it as another bad sign that his soldier doesn’t immediately obey.

"Are you sure, Majesty? He’s usually pretty cranky when he wakes up," he informs him with a grimace.

Gurdet can’t remember exactly when he started keeping soldiers around for their opinions and not their military strength but it must have happened because they’ve definitely started talking back more as of late.

"Yes, well, if we’re not allowed to sleep then neither is he."

Montrel shrugs in an I warned you kind of way, and punches Khobi in the arm.

"Ow!" Khobi yelps loudly, jolting awake and flinching away, looking wounded by the rude awakening, "What’s your problem??"

"You fell asleep," Montrel offers flatly, glancing over at the king in explanation for his actions.

Khobi sends Gurdet an irritable look but thankfully thinks better of saying or doing anything that might get him punished further.

Clearly he shares Gurdet’s view that this sorry excuse for a tournament event is punishment enough.

He doesn’t sit up straight, but at least he’s awake. A couple of people are looking up to see what the fuss is all about, but his latest disturbance hasn’t disrupted the archers, so Gurdet counts it as a win.

"...Did you have to punch me?" Khobi grumbles, fidgeting in his seat and trying to get comfortable.

"Nah, but I kinda wanted to," Montrel replies, smirking when Khobi rubs agitatedly at the sore patch on his arm, "My feet hurt from standin’ all mornin’ and you were looking too damn comfy."

"Was that really necessary?" Xena asks Gurdet, as Montrel narrowly avoids getting an elbow to the groin for his efforts.

"Of course," he replies, trying to resist the urge to point out her own hypocrisy. Maybe she’s a little less obvious about it, but she’s definitely trying just as hard as him not to fall asleep.

As he’s sure most of the audience present are. No one came this far for fucking archery, after all.

They came to get drunk and stupid on someone else’s gold, poke fun at the sorry sod who has to spend the rest of his life chained to his nephew, and to beat Crade at their own game.

Xena likes to call him petty, but what she clearly hasn’t realised yet is that all kings are petty. And that one day when she’s queen, she’ll be just as bad.

Worse, probably.

"Uggggh," Khobi groans, stretching and not bothering to try and conceal a yawn, "Is this still going?"

"Unfortunately," Gurdet sighs, and beckons for the nearest servant to bring wine and goblets.

On his suggestion one of them offers Khobi a goblet, and after a moment of deliberation he grudgingly accepts it.

Even Xena helps herself to an empty one unprompted, which is testimony in itself of how uninteresting the occupants of the royal booth are finding the proceedings. "At least the wine is good."

Khobi makes a low noise of reluctant agreement as he takes a swig, like he likes the taste but doesn’t want to admit it.

Of course it’s good; Gurdet is acutely aware that he has excellent taste in all things fine.

"...Why am I here?" he asks, licking his lips and sparing the archery range a passing glance as roars of approval erupt from the stands.

Something amazing must have happened, but Gurdet is at a complete loss as to what it might have been.

One of the foreign princes is lowering his bow looking awfully pleased with himself and preening for the applause.

Well, Gurdet’s sure that whatever he’s accomplished, Vogrid will be able to make look like child’s play.

You could say a lot of impolite things about the man, but put a bow in his hands and he could make anyone look bad.

His skill as an archer really was unparalleled --it was almost a bit of a shame there hadn’t been a good war in a while.

"--Because we are celebrating an engagement, and at least one of couple to be wed should be here," Gurdet explains simply, and raises his drink in mocking toast to Montrel, "It’s bad enough that your friend here lost track of my nephew again..."

"He is slippery, Your Majesty--"

"Clearly," Gurdet remarks dryly, "And I’m sure it would be unpleasant to linger on as to why that is."

Montrel very barely manages to cover up a dry retch; a reaction that has Khobi practically inhaling his wine through his nose with laughter.

"You wouldn’t happen to know where your dear betrothed is, by any chance?" he adds conversationally, directing his question to Khobi since there’s no way on this green earth that Montrel has any idea.

The man’s been truly incompetent at keeping tabs on his nephew for years, but it sure is entertaining watching him try.

"Huh? Why would I know?" Khobi scoffs flatly, offended by the notion. Gurdet just sips away at his wine, unblinkingly observing him.

"...Word is that you’re getting along quite well."

From the look that Xena sends him, you’d think he’s just renounced his throne. Khobi looks equally baffled by the statement --as do the two guards currently keeping them company in their booth --but Gurdet just smiles back at them all like he’s said nothing unusual.

"No offense intended, Your Majesty," Montrel remarks wryly, "But I think you need to get better sources."

"Oh? My mistake," Gurdet titters, and snickers when Bongo leans in to whisper in his ear that just maybe his thus far tense relationship with his future nephew would progress a little smoother if he didn’t intentionally try to rile him up.

"Oh come now, Bongo, he can take a joke," he scoffs, waving away his bewildered guard.

"That was a joke?"

"Obviously," he snorts, tipping his glass in the direction of the archers, all lined up in pretty little ranks, all set to display their mastery over bow and arrow.

They’re all amazing, he’s sure, but armed combat is where the thrill is at these days. The crowds are rowdy today, but when the blood starts falling they’ll be insatiable. "I’m just trying to entertain myself. Someone has to."

"Bring on the duelling is all I can say,"

Montrel shrugs, "It’s like, oh look, he hit the target. Oh look, he hit the target while moving!"

Over the years Gurdet has learned to block out a lot of what comes out of Montrel’s mouth, but every now and then he does say something sensible.

"Montrel, you’re a soldier," Bongo reminds him dryly, "You should appreciate the skill it takes to do that."

"Well yeah, Captain, but it’s not like it’s interesting to watch."

"I must say, it always looks much more exciting up close," Xena pipes up, craning her neck to get a better look. She seems a little disappointed with the display thus far.

"Oh that’s right," Gurdet chimes lightly, and enjoys the sudden look of mortification that blossoms up on his daughter’s face, "Xena used to rather fancy herself as an archer.

Didn’t you, sweet daughter?"

"...When I was a child, yes," she sniffs, scrambling for some form of defense. It was perhaps a little unclassy of him to bring up such a thing but he’s bored and he’s aware that he has a bit of a bad habit of trying to ruffle feathers when he’s bored.

And embarrassment suits her so well. Right now she’s boldly glaring around at the men present as though daring them to laugh at her childish fantasies, but none of them are laughing. In fact, quite the opposite.

"Why don’t you?" Khobi asks flatly, as if it were that simple. "Learn?"

For a second Xena seems to think that he’s making fun of her, but then she realises, as Gurdet does, that he is, in fact, being completely serious.

Like her just learning how to shoot an arrow was a reasonable dream.

"I...I couldn’t," she fumbles --a second in as many minutes; she’s clearly off her game today, "It’s not very...ladylike."

She’s the one fidgeting now, and there’s a telltale redness to her cheeks that tells Gurdet that being a noble archer is not just a childish fantasy, but one that’s stayed with her to this day.

How interesting.

"Why not?" Khobi presses with a shrug, "My aunt was my uncle’s Captain." In all fairness, Aida Riko wasn’t exactly the first word that sprang to mind when describing her.

Probably wasn’t even on the list. But that clearly wasn’t Khobi’s point. "Aren’t you the princess?" he points out, like she’s being absurd. Which is usually Gurdet’s job.

It’s nice to see someone else take up the mantle for a change. "Just...order some soldiers to teach you or you’ll throw them in a dungeon, or whatever it is you guys do. They’re... all right. They’d probably teach you if you asked."

Xena blinks, slowly, like she’s trying to process what exactly he’s said, and then she smiles down into her lap, secretively, like she doesn’t want her father to see.

She’s touched. How precious.

"...But don’t listen to Montrel too much," Khobi adds, sending a pointed glance said soldier’s way, "He can be a real dick."

"Khobi," Bongo groans, rubbing a crease out of his forehead like he’s just realised he’s fighting a losing battle.

"Language, please. There’s a lady present."

"Oh shit, my bad."

(Bongo wonders why he bothers.)

Montrel lets out a hearty bark of laughter, and after a moment, Xena joins in, until her shoulders are shaking and there are creases around her eyes. Khobi looks bewildered by the reaction. He watches her continue to giggle.

"I’m sure he’d say the same about you," she titters back, once she’s regained some of her composure, and then lowers her voice conspiratorially, "...That you were...a dick."

Bongo looks a little scandalised, and Gurdet almost laughs along with them. Maybe someone should have told him that delightful little children are always corrupted eventually, no matter how hard you try to protect them from the world.

"Yeah, Your Highness," Montrel admits with a snicker, grinning wolfishly, "I would."