Chapter 200 - 198: Under Recovery.

Chapter 200: Chapter 198: Under Recovery.

It’s not fair of him to say that. They’re rough around the edges, sure, and their sense of fashion is dreadful, but they make him laugh, and he could never say it out loud but he feels at his best when he’s around them.

​" –I’ve been patient with you, really I have, but I’m not sure how much more embarrassment this family can suffer –"

​Rogard braces himself for the incoming tirade, but whatever monologue about his failings he’s about to launch into is abruptly cut off by an ungodly commotion from the hallway.

It’s Montrel. And Gandy. And they’re causing an absolute ruckus; howling like animals and soaked with blood, and it’s not immediately obvious who it belongs to.

Both of them, by the looks of it. Gandy’s shirt is drenched, blood dripping from his mouth, and Montrel’s not looking much better; red pouring from his face and lip –nose at entirely the wrong angle.

​It’s quite the scene.

​Rogard’s never been happier to see them.

​The head matron, however, does not seem to share his enthusiasm. Neither does his father.

​" –You know, when I said not to come back until you need medical aid, this wasn’t what I meant," she scolds, as servants swarm around the pair of them with towels and cloths, trying to clean up the both them and the trail they’ve left behind them.

Montrel just winks and gives her a grin, teeth stained red. She immediately grabs him by the face and roughly shoves his broken nose back into place in one swift, unsympathetic motion.

​" Fuck !"

​" Language !"

​"Yo, Rogard," Gandy greets casually from past Rogard’s father, hanging off Montrel’s shoulder even though it doesn’t look like he’s hurt beyond his bleeding mouth.

"Look who got his face busted in again."

​"My face didn’t get busted in. You busted it in!"

​"Hmmm, did I?"

​His father looks decidedly irritated at the intrusion –particularly when the pair of them drop down into the bed closest to Rogard and make a great show of making themselves comfortable – and while his expression curdles, the ice in his eyes withdraws.

For now, at least. Gandy’s family isn’t the noblest of nobles, but his father is still held in high enough regard amongst them that he knows not to make a scene in front of him.

He’s clever, and terrible like that. None of them know. Not really. Not enough to care, or stop him. And even if they do, they’re afraid.

​It stings, the look he sends Rogard; the one that says that this isn’t over, and that he’s running out of chances.

​(He gets it.)

​(He’s afraid, too.)

​Out of reflex, Rogard averts his gaze, only to find Montrel and Gandy both watching him, oddly quiet for how much of a fuss they’d been making on their way in, and their expressions unusually serious.

The broken nose that had been paining Montrel so deeply only moments ago doesn’t seem to be bothering him anymore, and it strikes Rogard as strange that for all the times Montrel has broken his nose –which is a lot –it’s rarely bad enough that he winds up in the infirmary.

In fact, usually he just shoves it back in place then and there and lives with the blood.

​They’re also still armed.

​His father must sense something strange afoot, because he sucks in his teeth like he’s smelled something quite nasty, and brushes off his finery as though dirt has settled on him in the mere minutes he’s been here.

​"I best be on my way," he father states brusquely, stiffly turning to leave, "We will discuss this later."

​"...I look forward to it."

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the words or the chipper tone he chooses that piss his father off more.

He shouldn’t have said it –he knows better than to antagonise him when he’s like this; when he thinks Rogard’s done something wrong and needs to know just how badly –and he’s sure he’ll pay for it later, but he’s been feeling wilful lately, and there’s something about having Montrel and Gandy’s eyes boring into the back of his head that lend him strength.

​"Very good," his father hums, like the words taste bad in his mouth. "I’ll see you when you return. And make sure to clean yourself up."

​It’s only once his footsteps fade to echo down the hall that Rogard lets out a soft sigh.

The room seems to sigh with him, and the air immediately feels lighter; like it had been choking only a moment ago and the weight has now lifted.

Even Montrel and Gandy sag backwards –and immediately start jostling for position on the cot, even though there are plenty around them.

It’s far too small for the pair of them to be sharing but neither seem interested in giving it up.

​It’s strange; Rogard hadn’t been aware of quite how tightly his father’s presence had the servants wound, and it makes him feel dreadful that he’d never noticed before.

He wonders what else they’ve seen, and what else they’ve heard, and if his father ever made them feel as small as he does his son.

...

Once the bleeding stops, it doesn’t take long for Montrel and Gandy to get themselves cleaned up, and then immediately get scolded for wasting the infirmary’s time on a couple of broken noses and a busted lip.

The head matron is not impressed with their handiwork, but she must be feeling generous for once because even though they linger back until Rogard’s ankle is bandaged and splinted, she doesn’t shoo them off until he’s good to go.

​He should’ve gone straight back to his room –that was where he was meant to go, for rest and recovery –and it was where Montrel and Gandy promised the medics they’d take him, but they make sure to take him via the mess hall where the rest of the soldiers have reconvened for dinner as is their custom.

There’s not much that brings men together better than a hot meal and shared trauma, so dinner is more often than not the perfect forum to complain, commiserate, and debrief the events of the day’s training.