Chapter 323: My Win.

Chapter 323: Chapter 323: My Win.

​"You heard the Captain," he growls to the rest of the stunned soldiers, stalking forwards to start hauling one of the unconscious men upright so that he has something to focus on other than how fast his heart is racing.

The others instantly snap into motion, still wide eyed with what they’d just witnessed. A couple of them whisper amongst themselves as they set to work, and the looks of disbelief that get slung around are for both Lord Rogard, and their prince.

​"...You guys okay?" Montrel queries gruffly, sending each Khobi, Rogard, and even Loac a sidelong look.

And while they don’t seem to be in any sort of mortal peril, they’ve certainly all looked better.

​"Never better~" Rogard chimes airly, even though he’s by far the worst looking of the three of them. Montrel’s expression softens with relief.

​"Glad to hear it," he says, letting out a short breath. The same certainly can’t be said for the guards they’ve left flattened; there look to be more broken noses than not, and a good couple of other bones that don’t look like they should be sitting the way they are.

The medics are not going to be happy.

​"...But you know we gotta take you to Gurdet, right?"

​For what it’s worth, he feels bad about it. But at the end of the day, he’s still a guard here and some things just can’t be overlooked.

Besides, at least this way they can try and explain themselves before Lord Rogard gets the chance to put his own spin on the events.

​Gods, he hopes they explain it to the king better than they did to him.

The fact that he hasn’t just slapped any of them in irons is probably gonna wind him up in hot water, but he doesn’t really see any need to when they’re not making any fuss –well, no more fuss than they usually do; Khobi and Loac are already arguing about which of them took down more guards –which Montrel seriously hopes they sort out before they get to king.

Gurdet already has a notoriously bad impression of the both of them; bragging about how many nobleman’s guards they knocked unconscious isn’t exactly going to help their case.

​And Rogard’s father better be thanking the gods that Jaga and Gandy are here.

If he had his way, he would’ve just thrown him in a cell, status be damned.

But apparently that would just ’stir up trouble’ because it’s ’not the way noblemen are handled’; even ones that attack castle guards, apparently.

So for now the venerable Lord Rogard will be confined to his quarters under lock and key –for his own protection, obviously –until the truth of the matter comes to light.

​Or rather, whatever Gurdet decides is the truth of the matter.

​The two aren’t necessarily one and the same.

...

Now the adrenaline is wearing off, Khobi’s starting to ache. Sure, he gets smacked around all the time at training but there’s definitely a difference between slogging it out against someone who doesn’t really want to hurt you, and someone who does. Jaga pulls his punches.

​These guys did not.

​Ah, shit , Khobi thinks to himself as he stiffly draws up the hem of his shirt to inspect the damage beneath.

There are some shallow cuts here and there, but his ribs are seriously smarting and the angry red blotches forming there are definitely gonna be purple by tomorrow.

He grimaces.

His jaw aches something terrible and lip feels fat and his mouth tastes like iron, but to his relief, a quick check with his tongue confirms that none of his teeth have come loose.

​Someone wasn’t so lucky.

Khobi can see one lying on the ground a couple of feet away.

​With a wince of discomfort, Khobi lowers his shirt and limps over to where Rogard is similarly taking stock of the damage he’s sustained; in surprisingly high spirits considering the circumstances.

It comes as some relief to Khobi that not all of the blood he’s coated in seems to be from him, although there are some nasty looking gashes to his torso that look like they’ll need some patching before too long.

​Of the three of them, he’s certainly come out looking the worst.

​Loac, however, appears to have escaped comparatively unscathed, and Rogard seems to share Khobi’s irritation about it.

Sure, he’s just as drenched in sweat and dust as them, but where they’re covered in marks and blood, it’s his clothes that seem to have suffered the most.

It’s finery no more; his vest and pants are all scuffed up and torn in places, and his shirt’s been slashed open so low that he may as well not be wearing one.

​(Honestly, it kind of suits him.)

​(Kind of really suits him, even.)

​It’s becoming a concerning theme.

As is Khobi’s inability to look away when he looks like this; all rugged and ragged and glistening.

It had been hard enough at court, when the collar of Loac’s shirt had steadily slipped further and further open the longer the proceedings had run, and but now that he’s practically bare-chested and positively gleaming, Khobi’s finding it damn near impossible to tear his gaze away.

It’s more distracting than it has any right to be, and it’s getting harder and harder to deny that he wants to touch him again; to bite down on his chest and along his collarbones and have his own bitten right back.

​Seemingly oblivious to the eyes on him as he watches the castle guards scrape Lord Rogard’s men off the stone, Loac absent-mindedly cards a hand back through his hair and Khobi’s mouth suddenly runs uncomfortably dry.

​( Seemingly oblivious.)

​From the way his gaze slides sideways and the sly flash of teeth that has Khobi’s eyes abruptly ducking away, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

​Khobi could kill him.

​Or something.

​" –Looks like’s my win," Loac drawls, and Khobi’s distracted thoughts thankfully give way to a pang of irritation.

​The guy seems under the misguided impression that he took down more guards than him.

Which is honestly just plain, dead wrong ; half the ones he smacked got back up again and Khobi had to finish them off so they count for him, obviously .

​" Like I said ," Khobi grinds out hotly, ready to remind him for the third damn time that the two guys over in the corner don’t count , if it weren’t for Gandy’s very limited patience quickly running out.

​" –If you two are done?" Gandy interrupts flatly, folding his arms and giving the three of them a withering look, "You’re in trouble, remember?"

​They look unrepentant .

​( Well , Gandy thinks dryly, as he gestures for them to lead the way, this should be good .)

With a sigh that sounds a lot like let’s get this over with , Loac pushes off the column he’s been leaning on.

That’s all it takes for his vest to finally give in, and he gives it a mildly inconvenienced glower as it splits down the side.

After a moment of consideration, he yanks it off, threads popping and buttons popping in every which direction, and slings it over his shoulder just as Khobi falls into step with him.

​" Watch it ," Khobi bites, flinching as the edge of it clips him across the face.

​"Oops," Loac snickers as he saunters on by, although from the way he smirks as he says it, it was so obviously intentional.

Khobi glares at him every step of the way, and does his damnedest to not let himself be distracted by the steady, almost sensual sway of his shoulders as he heads on ahead and the way his shirt hangs off the sharp lines of his shoulderblades.

And his gaze certainly doesn’t dip lower or linger on his ass.

​(Ah fuck, he’s got a great ass.)

​Unconsciously, Khobi wets his lips.

​Gandy really, really wishes he didn’t see that.

​Honestly, he is getting way too old for this shit.