Chapter 189 - 187:Cleaning Out The Mess.

Chapter 189: Chapter 187:Cleaning Out The Mess.

Vogrid follows his gaze, and recognises Khobi Frost at centre stage of one of the sparring rings, currently in the process of making the young Lord Gandy look like he’s never held a sword in his life.

Rogard can’t know what’s good for him because he’s there amongst it too, making a fool of himself again as he joins in the hooting from the sidelines.

Idiots, the lot of them, to be causing such a scene; shoving each other and laughing as they cheer and boo in equal measure.

​Loac’s eyes are dipped low, but as he watches them chase each other across the ring, his eyelids flicker to the beat of the heavy, dull thuds of dull blades clashing and beating at one another.

And Rogard must be Khobi’s next opponent, because the moment Gandy throws his hands up in disgust he’s hurdling the fence, sword in hand.

There’s no preamble either; Khobi is on him the moment his feet hit the mud, and they strike straight into it like this is an old, favourite game of them both.

And from the way the soldiers around them whoop as Rogard ducks aside and smacks Khobi on the backside with the flat of his blade for such a cheap move, the crowd is equally pleased with the matchup.

The stakes aren’t anywhere what they would’ve been if they had faced each other during the tournament –as they had clearly wanted to, so desperately –but they fight like there’s something on the line, weaving back and forth through the mud, and diving at each other and away over and over again.

​Eyeing the display with arms folded, and expression slack, Loac looks unaffected.

​But his fingers, drumming against his biceps with agitation, tell a different –much stranger –story.

​If Vogrid didn’t know better, he’d say that Loac wants to be doing that, too.

​...

​Khobi honestly has a lot to be grateful to Binny for, but never has that been truer than today.

​He’d been dreading returning to his own room, but when he gets there, there’s a fresh set of clothes laid out on the chest at the end of the bed, and the bath is already full, and steaming.

​Aching, cold, and crusted over with dry mud and sweat, it’s suddenly everything Khobi could have ever dreamed of.

​No sooner has the door swung shut behind him than Binny is at his side, peeling him out of his ruined clothes with practiced ease.

Khobi immediately swings an alarmed glance towards the bed, but it’s empty. In fact, it barely looks slept in.

​"Don’t worry, he’s not here," Binny assures him, ushering him towards the bathroom.

Once upon a time Khobi might’ve shrugged him off –might’ve scoffed and told him that he’s been undressing himself his whole life, dammit –but he’s honestly too tired to fight him today.

It’s a miracle he made it back here, honestly. His fingers had been so frozen and his arms so leaden by the time Drogger had decided to take pity on them and call training to a close for the day.

​"I wasn’t worried," he scoffs back.

Binny hums something indiscernible, and scrunches up his face as he manages to extract Khobi from the dregs of his shirt.

There’s a chill to the afternoon air but it feels amazing to have it gone.

The rain had made it stick like a weird, second skin, with the layers of mud giving it all the weight of armour but offering none of the protection.

​Once the shirt is gone, it quickly becomes apparent that there’s just as much mud caked to his skin. More, if that was even possible.

​"You look awful," Binny states, looking like he’s desperately trying not to laugh. Khobi grins for the both of them, and feels some of the mud on his face creak and crack.

​"I feel awful," he admits, and tries his best not to track too much mud everywhere as he makes a beeline for the bath. He definitely overdid it today.

​(It was hard not to.)

​(But what was he supposed to do?)

​He’s going to feel so dreadful in the morning. Adrenaline and anticipation for his arrangement with Loac had gotten him to the morning in reasonably good nick considering how much he’d had to drink, but that had worn off around lunchtime and he’s been feeling worse for wear ever since.

His stomach had been made of sterner stuff than other’s, but he definitely didn’t escape the night out unscathed.

​Completely naked, and blissfully free of the unsalvagable mess he’s made of his clothes, Khobi steps into the bath and immediately sinks down to his chin.

The water immediately starts to turn an ugly brown.

​Binny shuts the door behind them and gives the discarded pile of clothes a mournful look as he retrieves a bucket and –much to Khobi’s dismay –a brush.

His skin had smarted for days the last time Binny had scrubbed him clean, and it looks like he’s intending to do much the same this time round.

Montrel says it rains a lot here before the snows come. If that’s true, Khobi’s skin is going to be gone before too long if he gets this muddy each time.

​"I’m going to have to burn those," Binny informs him, in a tone of there’s no way I’m cleaning that up.

​"That’s fine," Khobi tells him with a shrug.

​"Rogard is going to be upset," Binny reminds him with a chuckle, and Khobi rolls his eyes because why would anyone be upset about getting rid of clothes that weren’t good anymore?

​"They’re just clothes?" he scoffs, and yelps as Binny douses him with a bucket of water to get started on the muddy matts in his hair. It always feels very intentional when he does that, especially since he always laughs afterwards.

​It doesn’t take him too long to get the worst of the mess out of Khobi’s hair, but the rest of him is a different story, and the longer Binny scrubs, the more perplexed he seems to get.

​"Jeez, Khobi! Is there even any dirt left at the training grounds?"