Chapter 218 - 216: Visiting The Soldiers.

Chapter 218: Chapter 216: Visiting The Soldiers.

Luck mustn’t on her side today, because for all her efforts she runs into one of them anyway.

​She sees him before he sees her, and it comes as some relief to see that he’s not alone.

Something about the Lord Rogard makes her handmaidens squirm, and she must admit that since finding out he’d just as soon she marry him as his son she’s inclined to agree.

​" –Good morning My Lords," she greets as they draws closer, and makes sure to have her most pleasant smile on.

Both men pull away from their hushed conversation at the sound of her voice, and she catches a glimpse of what looks like relief crossing Rogard Spidra’s face when he sees it’s her.

​His father, not so much.

​"Your Highness," the Lord Rogard greets, bowing stiffly, and presumptively reaches out a hand so that he can press a kiss into her knuckles.

She lets him, because she’s supposed to, and hopes that her handmaidens are keeping their thoughts off their faces.

Out of his father’s line of sight, Rogard is decidedly not. "Where might you be headed looking so lovely this morning?"

​Xena’s certain she could roll out of bed with her hair in tangles and people would still tell her she looks lovely.

To her face, at least.

​Not that she would ever test such a theory. She’s a princess, and princesses are expected to maintain a certain measure of dignity at all times.

A very high measure, in fact.

​"Oh, I was just on my way to the training grounds," she replies, not entirely certain why she lies.

Perhaps because she gets the distinct feeling that Rogard would rather be anywhere but here, and that resonates with her.

There have been many times she’s wanted much the same thing, but had no one to rescue her.

"I’m not sure if you’d heard but my cousin has been frequenting there recently."

Lord Rogard’s expression sours at the mention of the training grounds, and from the way it sours even further when she brings up her cousin, he has indeed heard.

​"What a coincidence, Your Highness, I was just on my way there myself," Rogard cuts in, seeing the lifeline for what it is and making a leap for it.

He swoops in past his father to present his arm to her. "Would you walk with me?"

​"Why thank you," she gushes, even though they both know that she’s perfectly capable of walking herself, and delicately latches onto him as much as is appropriate, "I would love to. My apologies for stealing your son, Lord Rogard."

​"...No apologies necessary, Your Highness," he assures her, but there’s something unpleasant about the sidelong look he sends his son.

Her own father has never been particularly warm or fatherly, but where he always looks so calculated, this man just seems a little too cold .

​He watches them go, and even long after he’s vanished into the distance, it’s like she can feel his eyes on them still –not on her so much, as on his son.

​"...I hope I didn’t interrupt," Xena murmurs quietly, when they’re out of earshot.

Rogard stiffens infinitesimally, and then seems to realise he has.

​"Not at all, Your Highness" he assures her, waving away her concerns.

It shouldn’t bother her that he calls her that –everyone does –but for some reason it’s started to, a little. "Father was just...being father. It’s nothing."

​"Oh."

​"Are you really going to the training grounds?" he inquires curiously.

​"I suppose I am," she admits, because it is in this direction, and it would be nice to make her father wait for a change.

​"Why don’t you come say hello?" he suggests brightly, "I saw you watching yesterday. And Khobi said you liked watching the archery at the tournament."

​"Did he?" That’s so embarrassing.

​" –The soldiers look scary," Rogard continues, expression softening slightly, "...But they’re not so bad."

...

The spot Rogard leads her to is certainly a lot closer than where she would normally observe from, but there’s no denying that it is an excellent vantage point.

From here the soldiers’ movements look so much crisper, and their swords so much sharper, and she can see the expressions on each man’s face as they triumph and crumble in turn.

​It’s quite different.

​It’s also very loud.

​Her handmaidens –bless them –look entirely out of their depth, and they’re both trying very hard to make sure their skirts and hers don’t gather too much dirt.

It’s an impossible task; down here the stairs and stones are traversed by the muddy boots of soldiers day in and day out, and it becomes readily apparent that dirt is the least of their concerns.

There seems to be an awful lot of blood on the ground.

​Xena’s not squeamish, but she tells her handmaidens to keep their eyes up and not to worry about their dresses in case they are.

​Just up ahead, a couple of soldiers are hovering over their own private pool of drying blood.

It seems like the sort of thing that might warrant a visit to the infirmary, but she supposes they would know best and wonders if this is a normal occurrence.

They don’t seem too concerned.

​Rogard clears his throat loudly as they approach.

The soldiers glance over and then immediately drop what they’re doing and scramble up to attention when they see her.

Both are familiar to her.

​"Your Highness," they both greet dutifully, and she smiles at them in turn and bids them good morning.

They look a little worse for wear, although for different reasons.

Montrel’s cheek looks swollen, and there’s dried blood crusting to his nose.

Mural, on the other hand, has a shoulder that does not look like it’s meant to be sitting at the angle that it’s sitting at.

She suspects it’s dislocated, but he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it.

​"Look who I bumped into this morning," Rogard announces, dropping his arm away to present her to them, then looking around in confusion, "Wait, where’s Khobi?"

​"...Still running," Montrel replies with a grimace, jerking a thumb towards the activity beyond, "Him and Loac both."

​At the sound of her cousin’s name, Xena automatically cranes her head to look.