Chapter 333: Bag A Captain.

Chapter 333: Chapter 333: Bag A Captain.

Usually winter mornings in the mess hall are subdued.

There are fewer soldiers in the castle than there are in the summer months, and there’s something about the cold, and the snow, and the unspoken undercurrent of worry for their comrades out in the wilds that tends to sour moods and dampen spirits.

​Not today.

​No, today the mess hall is abuzz . And why shouldn’t it be? There’s a lot going on in the castle --a lot to discuss.

There are new assignments pouring in fresh off the court proceedings from the day before, and whispers of a fight in the bowels of the castle.

Not to mention, o ne of their own, promised to the Crown Princess.

​" –It’s not like that ," Montrel insists for the thousandth time, when some more soldiers he’s only loosely acquainted with set their breakfast down at his usual table and congratulate, insult, and demand answers from him all in the same breath.

Because obviously they have questions. They want to know how he of all people, got the princess to notice him; when the wedding’s gonna be, and whether he shat himself when he asked the king for his daughter.

A couple offer to buy him a drink. Others declare that they better smack him around in the ring while they still can.

​"Um what ?" Montrel chokes, when one of them digs an elbow into his side and jokes about how nice the weather would be for a spring wedding he practically chokes on his breakfast.

"We’re not betrothed or anything, we’re just... getting to know each other ."

​A number of the crowded soldiers roll their eyes. Particularly the ones from the most noble of families.

Because they all know what that means.

​"That’s as good as betrothed," one of them snorts, and Montrel glances across at Jaga with visible alarm.

​" Is it ?"

​Jaga gives him a pinched look.

​"It kind of is," he says, "I thought you knew that."

​"...Right," Montrel says after a beat, and another groan goes up –louder, this time –and he wonders what else he’s missed.

People really need to stop assuming that he knows these things. " Of course ."

​"Royal engagements tend to move fast," Jaga points out, sparing a sidelong look for Khobi, who tactfully ignores it, "...Usually."

And see, that’s just another one of those things that Jaga knows there’s no way he knows and should have thus definitely told him.

Not that it’s a problem .

It’d just be good to know, is all. At this rate Montrel’s going to be the last to know about his own wedding.

​"Hey, you gonna eat that?" Khobi inquires as a much needed distraction, mouth full as he jabs a finger at Montrel’s unfinished breakfast. Montrel immediately snatches his plate out of reach before he can nab anything from it.

​"Hey, get your fuckin’ mitts away," he growls, and hurriedly starts shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth before anyone else gets any funny ideas.

It’s started to go a bit cold what with all the interrogating but there’s no way Khobi’s getting a single crumb.

And as Mural and Jaga wave away the crowds so that he can finish his breakfast in peace, it’s a lucky thing that he’s never bothered listening to the way the castle whispers, else he would’ve heard them start rustling again even amongst the soldiers; the way they’ve been rustling since the moment he stepped forward before the court and took the princess by the hand.

​("Seriously? That’s the guy she picked?")

​("Who even is he?")

​("Who’s his father?")

​("What a joke . Y’know, my old man said...")

​But since Montrel doesn’t listen, he doesn’t hear. And that’s probably a good thing for all those whispering; if he heard, he’d probably have some things to say right back.

As it is, Jaga does hear, and promptly sends them all scattering with a look.

They quickly find something new to latch onto, however, because that’s when Rogard comes sauntering into the mess hall, bruises all but confirming what speculations had been set swirling the evening before, and he’s not alone.

​It’s not as if the room goes silent, but there’s definitely a hefty intake of breath and a layer of tension that hadn’t been there only moments before.

But like he doesn’t sense it Rogard just beams around the room as he ambles over to get his breakfast, sending lingering looks hurriedly scurrying back to their food wherever he casts his gaze.

As if that weren’t enough to deter anyone, those foolish enough to let their gazes sneak back have Drogger to contend with.

They collect their breakfast together then part ways, whispers rippling through the hall but never coming too close, and when Rogard ambles over to the usual table, he just slides right on into the spot next to Khobi like he always does.

Humming, he dusts off his pants and adjusts a lock of his fringe before reaching for his spoon, and he’s just bringing the first mouthful of his breakfast to his lips when he acknowledges the expectant looks from the table around him.

​"Oh, morning~" Rogard chimes airily, like he’s only just noticed them sitting there, "Breakfast looks good today."

​They continue to stare.

​"...You...got anything you wanna tell us?" Montrel ventures flatly, making a beeline right for the elephant in the room.

​"Hmm? Oh, funny that you should mention it; I do , actually," Rogard replies innocently, and then bats his eyes at them all when as one they lean in expectantly.

" Oh , you meant now ? Ow, ow, fine! Khobi, don’t be a brute –" Khobi pulls back his elbow, but at a meaningful look Rogard sets his spoon down with a small, theatrical sigh and folds his hands in front of him.

​"...So, it may come as some surprise to learn that I have been seeing someone," Rogard prefaces; news that is promptly received with a sea of are you fucking kidding me ?

​"No, we knew ," Montrel assures him, because they’ve been needling him about it for weeks, and as one their heads turn to look across the hall to where Drogger has taken up his usual seat with some of the other veterans, "We just didn’t know who ."

​They know now .

​Clearly everyone knows now.

​"...Who told you?" he inquires evenly, eyes narrowing.

​"Yacka."

​" –Yacka."

​"Yeah, Yacka."

​"Ugh, Yacka and his big mouth; way to ruin my big surprise,"

Rogard whines with a pout, "How has he already told everyone! We got here literally like, an hour ago!"

​"An hour ago?" Khobi snorts, giving him an incredulous look, "...And you’re only coming to breakfast now?"

​There’s a pregnant pause. And then Montrel clears his throat, leaning forward with narrowed eyes.

​"... Wait , so all those times when you went to Drogger’s office...?" he hazards slowly, and Rogard watches with sudden, building trepidation as understanding slowly starts to unfold around the table.

​"You know what, I’m actually not feeling so well..." Rogard decides, and gets unceremoniously stuffed back into his seat with an alarmed eep when he tries to abruptly take his leave.

The faces around him have all split into maniacal grins, and he’s suddenly reminded of everything he’s ever teased any of them for.

​"Oh no you fuckin’ don’t."

​" –Khobi –?" Rogard tries to plead, but Khobi very much remembers just who exactly called him out for showing up to breakfast with hickies.

This time Rogard’s on his own.

​" Nope ."

​As one, the sharks descend, ribbing and digging at him the way he so loves to dish out.

Given all the shade Rogard’s been slinging lately, he probably should’ve been better prepared for it.

And when Gandy finally gets off morning watch duty, he’s mad they started without him.

​" –You brat ," he declares, thumping his bowl down on the table then pulling him in and ruffling his hair because everyone knows that Rogard still puts a lot of effort into getting his hair just right, " There’s no one , you said. Not sneaking around with someone down in the city , my ass ! You’ve been playing dumb for how long and you just waltz up to the gates holding hands with the fuckin’ Captain ??"

​That certainly gets a wolf whistle or two, and to his credit, Rogard looks unrepentant.

Ridiculously unkempt, because Gandy is by no means the first person to tousle his hair beyond salvation, but unrepentant.

​" –Like, I get why you didn’t tell us and all but, I’m still gonna kick your ass for it –" Gandy declares hotly, making room so he can get right up in Rogard’s space to glower.

And then defying all expectations of violence, he cracks a grin, "...But I guess this means we gotta go to that shitty tavern of yours with the fancy water, huh?"

​"... Huh ?" Is the option Rogard goes for, and Gandy rolls his eyes dramatically as he clarifies, "S’your celebration, obviously you’ll get to pick the place."

​"Celebration?"

​"Aw come on Rogard, you think we’d take this lug out on the town –" he jerks a thumb at Montrel and gets a leer back, " –And not you?" He offers him a nudge in the arm and a small wink when it still doesn’t look like his words are sinking in, "Not everyday someone bags a Captain, y’know."

​That makes Rogard’s expression brighten so obnoxiously that Gandy has to slug him in the arm to kick things off again.