Chapter 490 - 491: You Coming Or What?

Chapter 490: Chapter 491: You Coming Or What?

Khobi never realised just how many memories a place could hold, nor how many of them can be made in a year. Because while the walk down to the castle gates is by no means a long one, it feels as though every corridor they pass by holds some reminder of the days he spent here; a little moment or a memory etched into its stone, like he’s left little pieces of himself scattered everywhere. These are the hallways the soldiers he now calls his friends used to chase him down; where they would tackle him to the stone and he would try and cave their faces in. Further down this way is the courtyard where he and Rogard’s rivalry first began. And through these windows he can see the tower where he was once kept locked away; where Binny used to sneak him snacks, and Khobi reached for Montrel’s outstretched hand for the first time.

These halls lead to the kitchens, and its hearths, and the training grounds, where he shed blood and sweat and wore a trail around the edges with his feet, and past the painting where Loac took his hand and kept it. The one they stopped at on their way towards the gates so that Loac could tell his ma that he might not see her for a little while.

That one had hurt, like it had hurt seeing Xena cry, because for all the memories Khobi’s made here in the span of a single year, Loac’s been here all his life. He can’t even begin to imagine how many memories these halls hold for him. How many he’ll be leaving behind.

But he’s already asked if he’s sure, and Loac’s already told him not to ask stupid questions.

The main gates are already open when they reach them; flung wide like they’ve been expecting them. Beyond, the sun is dipping down beyond the horizon; staining the spring sky with hues of crimson and gold, and as the stars begin to wink to life above, so too do the lights of the city.

It’s a somewhat surreal feeling, approaching the castle gates tonight and knowing that once he passes through them he won’t be returning; fulfilling the promise he’d made to himself the day he was dragged through for the first time –that though these walls might cage him, he would not allow them to become his eternal prison. That they wouldn’t seal him in forever.

But what he could never have predicted was the circumstances; that when the day came he would leave through these very gates as freely as if this were his home, and that those same guards who had once barred his way would be the ones holding the door. He never would have imagined either, that they would bow and wave as they bid him good night as they did so, nor that that he wouldn’t even consider not waving back.

...

It feels like it should be more momentous, stepping across the threshold towards freedom. Khobi always thought he would feel lighter in this moment; knowing that by the time dawn breaks he’ll be headed off into the wilderness with his aunt and uncle by his side, but there’s something about the way that the guards on the walls send them off with a reminder not to drink too much and a jibe about training tomorrow that makes his heart feel oddly heavy, and while Loac doesn’t so much as glance back as they make their way down towards the city Khobi pauses just long enough to take one last, lingering look at the walls that he’s finally leaving behind.

For a prison, it’s really quite magnificent.

It’s funny, but Khobi thinks he’s actually gonna miss it, just a little.

(A lot, even.)

(He hadn’t realised quite how much, until right now.)

" Hey , you comin’ or what?" Loac drawls, and when Khobi turns back to face the city he finds him standing there in the waning evening light looking impatient. He looks pretty magnificent, too, decked out in black and Crade maroon, and while he’s making out that he’s annoyed at being made to wait, Khobi recognises the playful glint glimmering behind the blue of his eyes and knows he’s only pretending.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming," Khobi snorts, even throwing in a long-suffering eye roll for dramatic effect. But when the blue in Loac’s eyes pitches bright like the open summer sky and he tentatively extends him a hand, he quits the pretenses and offers him a blinding grin and takes it in his own. It feels warm and a little clammy, but intimately familiar after all the nights spent drenched in each other’s heat, and their fingers lace together perfectly, first try.

There’s a wolf whistle from the walls somewhere behind them.

Loac flips them off without hesitation, but Khobi catches him grinning. Maybe even blushing a little, although the waning sunlight makes it hard to tell.

For the hour there are a surprising number of people out in the streets; soldiers, making their way out to the taverns, servants tirelessly running errands as they do, and commonfolk making their way home after a hard day’s work. It’s quite strange to be a part of the crowd such as this, and as Loac navigates them through the winding streets Khobi can’t help but feel a small pang of regret that he never got the chance to explore them by daylight. Sprawling outwards, it’s so much bigger than Scargga, and so different; built up over far more generations and with so much more wealth.

It would have been cool to come to the markets with Rogard; maybe show him how to tell which vegetables are gonna be the tastiest, or which cuts of meat make the best stew. When he was a kid he had neither gold nor inclination to spend it on anything apart from snacks at the market, so it might have been fun to see what else he could find; to pick out clothes or leathers of his own or to visit an armoury and pick out a sword.

Other things, too, maybe.

But tonight is not a night for regrets; not a night for mulling over the what-ifs and the what-might-have-beens. Tonight is a night to celebrate good friends and good news, and Rogard could not have picked a better stage. Because while most taverns are made for making merry, this one is particularly striking. As with the last time Khobi hears the place well before he sees it, and once they draw closer they find the ornate wooden doors and the shutters flung wide so that sound and laughter and the smell of sweet wine can pour out into the early night to draw in the weary, the merry, and those in need of cheer.