Sir Hans and the Strange Knight

by cloudy_path

Summary:

When the chance to prove himself is offered to Hans Capon, he doesn't hesitate one second. With his past mistakes coming back to haunt him, he doesn't seem to have anything to lose, after all.
Of course, Henry gets to be part of this quest as well, tasked with protecting his lord's life. But who is this mysterious knight and what secret is Hans keeping from him?

Chapter 1: Prologue

There had been no warning of the knight’s unkind reaction towards their agreement. One moment, Henry was waiting for Hans to exit the dining room, the next, the two of them were thrown out on the street by their scruffs.

"Madness!" Hans shouted. "You should know how to treat one of your betters if you were a real knight!"

Henry shook his head, righted his clothes, and called for their horses.

"Or if you had any loyalty towards your people! These new land contracts could have saved you a lot of trouble!" Hans added in a much louder voice, "You haven’t heard the last of us!"

Hans was shaking with rage by the time their horses came round the bend. He was cursing and stomping the ground wildly, kicking the castle walls while Henry put their discarded packs on the horses. Hans mounted up with just as much aggression, almost flying off the other side. Henry took a deep breath.

Their meeting with the knight Hieronymus had gone well enough for the past two days; he wondered what Hans had done to upset him so. He knew, though, that whatever had gone awry would reflect just as badly on Henry as it would on Hans. Usually, he didn’t give a damn about what Hanush thought of him, but now that his father worked so closely with the lord of Leipa, he worked under certain expectations.

"Are you done, Sir?" Henry asked once they set off on their path.

"Oh, fuck off, Henry," Hans spat. "You’ve no idea what it’s like to try to please every person in this fiefdom, to stand there and smile while they piss on your dinner plate, and to remain polite afterwards!"

Hans was right, of course. Henry didn’t know much about diplomacy. The little he did know, in terms of convincing commoners and guards to do his bidding, could hardly hold up to the responsibility of mediating between lords and knights and the like. What he knew best was the sword, which elicited a positive reaction from most people who weren’t tired of living.

Maybe he should’ve sensed that something had gone wrong. He could have stepped in anytime, brandishing his freshly polished sword, the threat clear. Hieronymus had been kind, though. He was only a knight in title, having retired from fighting decades ago. In his old age, he had built a castle, and around the castle, a town had formed. This had never been his intention, yet the retired knight never sent word to Hanush about his little settlement. Until now, the lord of Rattay hadn’t taken issue with it, however such things need to be managed. Otherwise every Dick and Harry would start their own settlements. Since the knight carried a good reputation among his peers, Hanush conceded to talk to him, rather than to attack, which he would have been entitled to, given the offence. It should have been the perfect job for young Sir Hans. So how did he manage to fuck it up in the span of one dinner?

"What happened?" Henry asked, catching up to his lord.

"We were having a private dinner, as requested by him – you know this already – and then he revealed information to me of which I had no prior knowledge."

Henry raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. When none came, he pried, "What kind of information?"

"None that is any of your concern," Hans lifted his head high, facing the forest opposite Henry. "Anyway, after this incident, all hell broke loose, and the man suddenly lost all good sense. He threatened to have me put in jail and said that I shall be hanged."

Henry laughed in disbelief.

"Yes! His exact words were, if I remember correctly, "If you were my bastard son, I would have you hanged by the morrow!" Hans fisted the air in mock anger.

Henry laughed at that.

"It isn’t funny at all, really," Hans chuckled.

"And then what?" Henry asked.

"I voiced my complaint, of course."

"Calm and collected, I reckon?"

"Just so. With a fist to the face."

"I wonder what kind of information would justify such a reaction," Henry mused.

Hans’ grip on his reins tightened audibly, the leather creaking under the strength of his gloved fingers. "I won’t tell you. You can rest assured it was justified, though."

Henry sighed and turned to face the open road ahead of them. The evening sun dipped the world in red, contrasting against the sharp shadow of the trees.

"Let’s visit that nice little inn we saw on our way here. I don’t want to face my uncle just yet. May the Lord grace me with one more peaceful night," Hans said.

---

The inn was alight with life when they arrived late in the evening. After enjoying a hearty meal and enough alcohol to please an entire army, they booked their room and went to bed. Henry could feel the dread his lord felt seep into his own thoughts. Whatever the consequences may be for their little adventure, Henry was sure Hans would bear the brunt of it. Now that the knight was angered, it was anybody’s guess how he would react next.

Despite it all, they had enjoyed their last night away from home. For the most part, they had sat in a corner, squeezed next to each other on the same bench, talking about peculiar Rattay townspeople and joking about Sir Hanush’s new shoes. It was easy to forget when you had a full stomach, some ale in your hand, and Sir Hans as your companion. The warmth of a man he knew, a good friend, was a comfort. He hoped Hans felt the same.

Now, in the dark of their little room, the merry mood continued. They sat down by the empty hearth, played exactly two rounds of dice (after which Sir Hans threw the board on the floor), talked about nothing in particular, and stared out of the open window, enjoying the warm summer breeze.

Both of them were pretty drunk, and Henry dreaded the coming day when they would have to ride back to Rattay, hungover and full of regret. He told Hans as much. "I wish we could jus’ stay here a while longer," he said, putting his head in his hands like it weighed the world.
"So do I, we’ll just have to stay awake, then tomorrow won’t come as quickly," Hans said cheerily, slapping Henry on the back with such strength that he almost tumbled out the window.

Henry failed to see the logic in that, since he knew that time spent with Hans was time that slipped away like quicksand. But he was too dizzy to explain this to his lord.

After another forced round of dice had angered his lord once again, they settled down onto one of the two beds in the room. It must’ve been well past midnight, but the people in the tavern were still going strong. One of the advantages of being in the middle of nowhere was that there were no guards to enforce the curfew.

They lay next to each other, legs hanging off the edge of the straw mattress. While Henry pondered the crooked ceiling, Hans was letting go of some pent-up energy from losing the game by humming aggressively and kicking his legs in the air. Beneath them, a toast was being said, and the noise startled Henry out of his trance.

"What should we do now? I’m about to pass out."

"You could read to me," Hans proposed. "It’s been ages since I’ve heard a new story. And it’d calm me down."

"Do I look like your nanny?"

"No, but you look like you can read. You can, can’t you?" Hans looked at him. After a pause, his mouth opened in a soundless laugh. "You can’t! The great Henry of Skalitz can’t read! And here I thought you were basically nobility. Pah!"

Henry put his fist on the mattress. "Of course I can read! I read all sorts of books in the monastery!"

Hans smirked, his eyes almost disappearing behind it. "In the monastery? And what would a man like you do behind cloister walls?"

"Uh… I mean… Nothing. Anyway, I can read. I’ll prove it to you."

"Please!"

Hans jumped on the bed and lay down the right way, holding the pillow as if it were one of the expensive stuffed animals nobles tended to buy their children. The sight made him smile with fondness in his heart and warmth in his stomach, seeing his friend so at ease around him.

The sight of Hans Capon as a toddler in his crib must have been priceless, Henry thought as he grabbed the book he brought on this journey from his pack. It was about a grisly murder in long-gone times, something about a love that could never be. The usual drivel. He had stolen the book from the monastery; they had way too much raunchy and shocking literature there, anyway. He had been saving the new novices from temptation through his selfless act.

The tavern downstairs seemed to grow quiet as he sat down next to Hans’ feet and opened the book and began to read.

It wasn’t that he was bad at reading. He was simply a beginner. The words didn’t register as words, but as letters. Letters that he had had to sound out when he first started to read several weeks ago. Henry had improved quite a bit since then. Still, his reading was slow and unsteady at times. The monk who had written this work had definitely done a better job at writing than Henry had in his time as a novice: the letters were clear and with enough space in between them to be recognised easily. The strokes of ink were steady, not shaky and illegible like some other works he had tried to decipher in the past.

All the good craftsmanship did nothing to sober him up, though. The words came embarrassingly slowly, swimming away on the pages. Hans listened patiently regardless. His eyes were closed, his hands clasped over his stomach.

After Henry struggled with a word he had never encountered before, he grew frustrated with himself, holding the book tighter in his hands and crumpling the parchment underneath his fingertips. Finally, he gave up and closed the book.

"I think that’s enough of that," he announced.

"No, I was just about to fall asleep!" Hans whined, sitting up.

"You’re supposed to stay awake!"

"But your voice sounded so nice."

Henry’s eyes widened.

"A real commoner’s comfort!" Hans continued, laughing brightly.

Henry put the book down forcefully and stood up, but Hans pulled him back down by his arm. "No! I meant it in the best way possible! Let me help you… Where were we?" he leafed through the book, careful not to break the parchment. "There we are. Now, see these letters; you say it like this. Yes. And it means…"

And so the reading session concluded, with Henry learning the pronunciation but not quite understanding the meaning of the text. He would forget all about it anyway, he found himself too distracted by Hans’ proximity, the smell of his expensive clothes mingling with beer and sweat. His head was bent over the book, pulling Henry’s hand, which was holding a candle holder, closer by the wrist. Henry knew Hans’ fingers were strong, defined by his habit of writing and hunting, but next to Henry’s they looked delicate, unused to the hardships of life.

Hans’ shoulder touched Henry’s arm when he put the book away, and his skin grew hot at the contact. When Hans mercifully left Henry’s space, his hand remained on his wrist, the fingers almost touching Henry’s knuckles.

"There are only a few things in this world as easy as reading. A clever man like you will get the hang of it soon enough," Hans said. "And if not, I’ll always be here to help you."

"Thank you, Sir," Henry mumbled, unsure of his words. Sir Hans turned around and let his head fall onto Henry’s lap, closing his eyes close and sighing deeply.

"You’re very welcome, Henry," he took the candle from his grip and positioned it on his sternum. "D’you see how easy it was to come to this agreement? Don’t you see how good of a ruler I would make?"

"Hanush will forget about this soon enough, you’ll see. And anyway, I never doubted you."

"Yes, you did. They all do. But it doesn’t matter, ’cause you and me, we have always found solutions," he shifted his head back to look at him. "Don’t you think we would make great rulers if I were in Hanush’s stead and you in Radzig’s? We could do some good for the people of Rattay."

Henry thought about it. He and Hans in Pirkstein, dining side by side, listening to the woes of their people, sharing a drink afterward, and sharing every secret and detail about their lives, too. He could get lost in that fantasy.

"But alas…" Hans said, reaching to put the candle on the ground, a safe distance from the straw on the bed. Then it was quiet for some time, thoughts returning to the trouble they would face at home, until Hans began shaking his head again. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning loudly, folding his legs together. "I never want to go back there!"

"Sir Hanush will forgive you for what happened. After all–"

"No, not because of that, because of everything that will follow! Soon I’ll have to take on responsibility an’… accountability! An’ all of those words," he trailed off. "I don’t want to be condemned to a life of gathering dust behind castle walls," he rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I don’t want to be sixty with a child on the way because I couldn’t be arsed to procreate earlier, an’ I don’t want to go mad like my poor mother, caged in a… well, a cage!" he groaned again, this time from the bottom of his heart, hiding his face in his hands. “Maybe it’s best that I fucked this mission up, then uncle can send me away and I’ll be free.”

"Come on, he won’t do that. And you know my father isn’t like that at all," Henry whispered, the sudden change in mood calling for silence. "He isn’t dusty at all. Still goin’ about the world an’ fightin’ an’ having a good time."

When this didn’t seem to cheer his drunken lord up either, only extracting more pained noises from him, he began rocking Hans by the shoulders lightly, shushing him like he would Pebbles in a nasty thunderstorm. "Shhhhhhh..." he said with too much force. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"I’m not a fucking horse!"

"Well, you behave like one, all skittish and worried for no reason."

Hans peeked through his fingers to give Henry a resentful look.

Henry sighed and pulled Hans’ hands away by the wrists. He then settled one of his hands at the top of Hans’ head. "The way I see it, you’re in the best of circumstances. A good inheritance, a title, a big fiefdom… Adventure is ahead of you, and with me as your page, you’ll never get bored or held prisoner in your own walls. I’ll simply pick the lock and open the door for you if you tell me to."

Hans hummed in agreement, finally settling down again. The weight of his upper body on Henry’s legs grew heavier, both of them relaxing. “Maybe your right. I could live with that, trouble seems to follow you around.”

“And trouble means something to do,” Henry said.

“Exactly,” Hans yawned. Henry pulled at his hair. "What?! I’m awake!"

"Sure," Henry poked him in his side and ran his other hand through Hans’ hair again, looking for purchase.

Hans tried to pry Henry’s hands out of his hair, which was, admittedly, a little bit tangled after the long ride and even longer night spent drinking. He ran his hands through for the hell of it until Hans made him stop by pulling at his fingers harshly. "You're messing it up!"

Then, Hans sat up and ruffled Henry’s own hair. "There! Now we match, you idiot!"

"Wrong, because as a peasant, I suit the raunchy look. You, as a member of the nobility, do not," Henry countered, leaning back on his elbows.

Hans glowered down at him, looking very angry, though it wasn’t very believable with his hair on his forehead and his cheeks red from the fight and drink.

"I’ll show you!" he grumbled and pulled one of his elbows out from under him. This prompted Henry to kick him in the side with his heel, and it ended in a fight that had them both exhausted rather soon. The room spun when they lay down next to each other again, legs dangling off the bed frame, heads turned towards one another, laughing their lungs out. After some time, when Hans could breathe again, he said: "Let’s not go back quite yet. Let’s stay here for another few days."

"Why?" Henry furrowed his brows.

Hans worried his bottom lip with his fingers. "Because I really don’t want to face my uncle now. And we are having a good time. And because I really, really wanna rip that knight a new one. I am so serious," he said when Henry laughed again. "I will burn that man’s entire estate down, and I will take every citizen prisoner and give them a better life than he could have ever given them. And I will make him watch, that sentimental fool, and then I’ll chop his head off myself, like a true noble deserves."

"Jesus Christ, what exactly did that man do?"

"I mustn’t tell you," Hans said quietly. He shook his head, all energy leaving his body. "I must sleep now. Good night."

"Come on! How are we supposed to rule together if you’re keeping secrets?" Henry said, getting off the bed when Hans kicked at his side. Henry shrugged and went to blow the candles out before retiring into his own bed, just a few paces from Hans’.

After some time, the room stopped feeling like he imagined a ride on the miller’s wheel would feel like, and he started to drift off.

The next day, they decided to go home after all. Hans had found himself in a sour mood, and Henry wasn’t about to question him anymore. Both of them had an uneasy feeling about what would happen next; neither of them would have been able to anticipate what was about to happen, though.

Chapter 2: 1

“This is the last thing I needed today," Henry mumbled as they rode through the lower gate of Rattay. Pebbles almost ran over a boy who was rolling a keg of wine across the street. The people were busy heaving food from one place to the next; Henry even recognised some of the kitchen staff, who were currently shouting orders. He felt like he had forgotten something important. “Remind me again, what day is it?”

“A banquet. To thank the gracious rainfall the other week, which is actually there to motivate the people to work harder when the harvest arrives," Hans said shortly. He rode ahead, heading towards the lower stables.

They had been on the road from sunrise till dawn, hurrying home to get their punishment over with. They hadn’t talked much during that time, the air between them thick enough to cut through with a sword.

Henry still didn’t know what had happened between his lord and the knight, but whatever it was, he had the feeling Hans needed to work that out himself before returning to Henry. So he let him go without another word when they arrived at Pirkstein, watching him close the door to the tower with a quiet creak.

And now this feast was happening while Henry’s head pounded heavily with yesterday’s drink. In contrast to his sour mood was the sun, glaring brightly down on the town and creating an oven-like experience beneath Henry’s armour. He quickly rid himself of it and, after earning a summons from his father to join them for dinner, he washed up as best he could in the dirty trough outside his room. After a short nap and some time with Mutt, Henry headed for the tower. The sun nearly touched the treeline but still proudly illuminated the streets and the careless townsfolk who had stopped working and were now distributed over the taverns and the streets, enjoying their evening off. Henry wondered if Theresa had joined them. He really needed to talk to her.

It seemed even the guards were on leave. There was only one guard stationed for the entire tower of Pirkstein, with some others on stand-by. Henry noted this but gave it no more importance. When he opened the door to the dining room, Hans was already seated at the table, pointedly not looking in Henry’s direction. He tried not to take it personally, though the pit of confusion only grew in his stomach. There was nothing he could do now. So, he sat and sipped from his wine, taking in the scene.

There was something strange in the air that night. The town was merry and the music was loud, but beneath it all, an invisible fog wound around the buildings and the dancing feet of the townsfolk. Henry could feel it tugging at the seams of his unconsciousness. He felt it even more so as the sun began to disappear completely, and the torches were lit, casting a grim atmosphere over the room.

His father and Lord Hanush were sitting at the main table, Sir Hans to the left of them and the parish priest to the right. Henry was seated next to Sir Robard at the awkwardly placed table facing the door. He was sitting furthest away from the lords, only being able to look at Hans and Hanush if he turned his head around. Safe for one guard at the door, the room was empty, and the conversation stilted. Though Henry was positively starving, yesterday’s drink still haunted him, so he resigned to take cautious bites of his food, savouring the meat bit by bit and leaving the cabbage for another time. The beer helped ease his stifling headache, making him feel more at ease.

If Hans’ mood had lowered since they set off for Rattay, it now seemed to be deeper down than the town’s well. He participated in the slow conversation about wheat or some such with familiar disinterest. A quiet "yes, yes" here and a hesitant "of course" there seemed to do the trick. They hadn’t talked about their failed mission yet. Henry watched the crackling flames of the torches and waited, sweating in the unusually warm room.

The sound of people laughing and hollering drifted in from the outskirts of town, accompanied by the buzzing of flies and mosquitoes. Henry swatted absent-mindedly at one, wiping away the bloodstain on his hose. There was nothing more to do than chew, listen and ponder. Occasionally, he could feel his father’s eyes on him.

Despite their situation, Henry couldn’t stop turning what Hans had said to him around in his head. What could have possibly been revealed that night? After knowing Sir Hans and winning his friendship, Henry felt he deserved to know, not out of selfishness, but because he wanted to help his lord. It felt terrible to be left out of something that weighed so heavily on his lord’s shoulders. Maybe he could get something out of his father; he probably knew what was going on. Then he could confront Hans, and they could talk about it. And this terrible darkness and disconnect between them could fade away.

Henry was just about to tackle his vegetables, having gained newfound energy through his plan and the alcohol in his blood, when Sir Hanush spoke up.

"So, boys, tell me of your mission out west. When can I expect to see Sir Hieronymus on my doorstep?" he asked, folding his hands over his stomach. Henry turned his neck to the left, catching a glimpse of Hans in the corner of his eyes.

The young lord cleared his throat and pushed his plate away from himself, drumming his fingers on the table. "We went to see the good knight and spent two nights there. Henry spoke to the locals while I discussed the matter with the knight."

"And? What did the people say?" Sir Radzig asked.

Henry swallowed down his food and leaned forward. "They’re quite content."

"Content?" Hanush said, arching a brow not unlike his nephew. "Just content?"

"Excuse me, sir. They were telling me how lucky they were to live somewhere where they had enough food, enough water and shelter and wouldn’t need to fear war. I think they feel very safe there."

"Maybe a bit too safe," Sir Radzig mumbled into his wine.

"Anyway," Hans interjected, turning towards his uncle, "there’s no delaying this: it seems our knight isn’t as gracious as we thought he was. After our third round of talks, he demanded Henry and I leave the property and that we take our deed with us."

"What?!" Hanush said.

Hans continued. "He told me he would stay independent and wouldn’t answer to any lord but himself. When I refused him, he began to threaten me. We got into a bit of a physical altercation, and now… we’re here," Hans worried the hem of his undershirt, pulling the sleeve out from under his pourpoint.

"You got kicked out of his castle, is what you’re trying to tell me, Hans?" Hanush asked incredulously. As expected, he was already red-faced.

“What did he threaten you with?" Radzig asked.

But Hanush seemed to already know the answer. “Probably some information about your Christian way of living, no doubt. What was it this time?" he scoffed. "I hope it was worth the embarrassment you’ve dealt me! Not to mention the men and resources that we’ll lose when we put that fucker back into line, which we absolutely need to do now," he put his fist down for emphasis.

"Uncle, you don’t understand," Hans stammered.

"I will think of a punishment fit for you, don’t worry. You can guess yourselves lucky that you’re related to both of us; otherwise, you’d already be on the way to a good whipping!"

Henry stared straight ahead, trying not to notice the way Sir Robard hid his laugh behind a cough or how his father looked between them in disbelief. He was probably wondering how they were able to fuck up such a simple and straightforward task so disastrously. Henry wondered the same thing.

“We’ll meet with him another time," Radzig said with finality. “He isn’t our biggest problem right now.”

"I’m not finished with this, Radzig," Hanush turned back to Hans. “Speak then, boy. What was it that had you running back home like a horse in a storm? Was it a pregnant princess? Or an ugly bastard son?"

Henry’s eyelid twitched at that comment. With his gaze now slowly travelling toward Hans, he anticipated the answer. Maybe now he would finally reveal his secret.

Hans took a deep breath, his clothes rustling as he crossed his arms. "It was the book, uncle," he said quietly.

"What book?!" Hanush spat.

"The book. From the Rattay bailiff."

Realisation dawned on Hanush’s face. He quickly looked over to the priest. "But I had it hidden away securely."

"Seems like not securely enough," Hans murmured.

"This is unacceptable," the priest spoke up. "How do you ever wish to rule if such… information would come to light? But of course, I advised you to handle the matter differently from the start."

"What’s done is done," Hanush said, "we have already dealt with the situation. It would be unfair to dredge it all up again and have a do-over," he turned his back on Hans, either blocking him out of the conversation or shielding him from the others, Henry couldn’t tell.

He finally turned around fully in his chair to look at Hans. His brows were furrowed, and he looked angry, very angry. His shoulders were drawn to his ears, and his hands were smoothing down the fabric of his hose repeatedly.

"I’ll get it back, don’t worry," Hans said with a slight tremble to his voice. "I don’t know how he got it, but I’ll get it back."

"Very well, this shall be your punishment," Hanush said without turning around.

"Take Henry with you," Radzig said. "A shared punishment."

Henry nodded. He felt more confused than before.

"Let’s not sour the mood of the festivities any further, bring in more wine!" Sir Hanush declared after downing his goblet of wine. Sir Hans followed his example, holding his goblet out for seconds.

While the servants brought in the pitchers, Henry could hear the priest mumbling something about a monastery, but the sound of other guests filling the room soon drowned out the words. None of the finely clad burghers and traders had even a speck of dirt on them, their clothes were colourful and extravagant, adorned with necklaces and rings that would surely make every thief’s mouth water. Soon, the alcohol flowed enough that the people stood from their chairs and mingled with each other, some sitting on tables, others on each other’s laps, and some were dancing to the tune of the troubadours who had joined them some time in the evening.

This was how Henry found himself standing next to a tipsy Hans Capon, leaning next to him on the cold stone wall, listening to his slurred babbling about his knowledge of swords.

“I’m just saying that I could forge a much better blade than you ever could. Sure, you were a blacksmith’s apprentice, but you were never a blacksmith. I, on the other hand, have wielded the finest blades for miles around ever since I could walk! I know what makes a fine weapon, Henry.”

Henry wasn’t even a little bit drunk, thanks to his lingering hangover, which was probably the only reason why he didn’t start a fight with Hans. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll become a blacksmith one day.”

Hans gasped and slapped Henry’s arm. “How dare you. I would never lower myself to such standards! And besides, blacksmiths are dirty, and they stink.”

“Yet you spend an awful lot of time in my proximity," Henry laughed.

“Well, of course… You’re pretty well groomed, comparatively. Though you could do with a bath," Hans said, grinning and swaying forward.

“Tell me more of your knowledge of blades, my lord. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you," Henry chuckled, easing back into their friendly bantering. The world seemed whole again with Hans' smile pointing back to him.

The noise of the dining room faded away to a humming susurration while Hans prattled on about swords and various other things. It was in that moment that Henry realised that he knew none of these people. The entire town was a stranger to him; the roads and alleys never knew him as a child, the tavern hadn’t seen him throw up from his first taste of bitter beer, and the forge had certainly never felt his hand steadying over his first blade. There was no reason to stay here, really, were it not for his father and his parents. And now, surprisingly, Sir Hans. The most annoying man in all of Bohemia had helped him back on his feet and out into the world and had given him a reason besides revenge to live another day. It was a shame that his first real friend outside of Skalitz had to be a stuck-up noble, but Henry was glad it was him out of all of them. Whether he had realised it or not, his constant challenges and rudeness had given Henry a space to let his thoughts unfurl and his mind clear.

The fog that had brought uneasiness about them had seemingly vanished. Instead, a feeling of home surrounded them. No matter what they had to face in the coming days, they would come out alright if only they could keep this friendship alive, Henry thought as he laughed at something Hans had said.

Still, through all the happiness, the strange knight came. He entered the room with confidence. Confident that he would destroy their lives. Henry hadn’t noticed him at first, reading the words from Hans’ lips while he was talking, thankful that whatever had come between them had left at last. Only when Hans’ face stopped moving and his eyes grew wide did Henry follow his gaze to the door.

There he stood, a knight in minimal armour: he was missing the chain mail and the plate armour, but there was no mistaking his noble status. His gambeson was the colour of a deep reddish-brown, painted with intricate patterns that curled into flowers at the ends. His face was partially hidden by red curls that reached his shoulders, the stern eyes beneath betrayed no emotion or motivation. On his feet were golden spurs on polished leather shoes.

The air thickened, and at once, the room went quiet. A couple of guards stood in the hallway, pointing their swords at him, though none dared to touch him.

"Who are you then?" Sir Hanush slurred.

The stranger stepped into the room, halting just before the table. He didn’t greet anybody and graced none of the nobles with a bow. "I have come in peace, as you can see, I have left my hauberk at home as well as my helmet. I seek no fight today.

"I have heard of your court, Sir Hanush. Of your commendable service to the people of Skalitz, who lost their homes not long ago. I have also caught wind that the valiant Radzig Kobyla has taken residence here and that he and his men are undertaking noble deeds to protect this country. Last of all, I have found the son of the late Hans Capon, a man I knew well. I expect great deeds from his son in the future.

"So you see, I find myself in a room of many strong and capable men on this merry night. Their deeds are as noble as their titles, and I expect to find a suitable opponent. I will offer an exchange of strikes, for which he will receive my fine axe to wield as he sees fit. I will bear the blow sitting down. In turn, I will return the strike, if God is willing, in one moon’s turn. Who here is valiant enough to test my words?"

Hanush barked a laugh. "You must be having me on. You’ll find more noble people in the miller’s house than here, Goodman!"

The knight raised his eyebrows. "Does this mean that there is no man in this entire fiefdom who is ready to take me up on my game? I find it hard to believe, after all that I’ve heard of this court, that every member of this table is thrown off by the words of one man," he eyed every man in the room, finishing on Sir Hans, who backed away and grabbed at his sword. Then the man laughed out loud; the sight seemed unnatural. Henry had never heard a laugh as foreign and unearthly as this.

It seemed even Sir Hanush was at a loss for words. The mocking smile disappeared from his face, and when the silence dragged on, he whipped his head around in disbelief. His cheeks grew red with the fury of drink. "I don’t know what kind of game you want to play, but if no person in this room is man enough to play it, I shall have to take you up on your offer."

"Don’t," Radzig’s voice cut through the room.

"Ach come now," Hanush waved his hand through the air and set his goblet down with a splash of wine. "You must be joking, good sir, but I shall indulge you."

While Sir Hanush stepped forward around the table, Henry felt Hans step closer towards him. He brushed his hand against Henry’s shoulder and leaned in. "Is this some elaborate play?" He asked.

"I hope so," Henry whispered back, reaching for his own sword. It must be a joke, but Henry hadn’t heard of any showmen visiting the town lately. Maybe this was a surprise act for the feast?

Hans turned his head back towards the strange knight but kept his hand on Henry. He swallowed drily, his eyebrows drew together, as if in pain, as he tried to take in as much of what was happening as possible, but Henry knew that look. Sir Hans was deep in thought, just like he had been on the ride back home after their disastrous talk with Sir Hieronymus.

"I will strike you, and then you may return wherever you have come from. We will seek you out in time, don’t you worry," Hanush grumbled when he reached the stranger, taking the gleaming axe from his hand. It was a fine weapon indeed: the handle was long and sturdy, and the blade big and sharp. The knight stood a head higher than even the tallest man in the room, but Sir Hanush didn’t let that deter him. He looked the man up and down for a long time, making mocking humming noises under his breath and swinging the axe this way and that. His guests laughed loudly at his theatrics, some doubling over and spilling wine. The tension from just moments before seemed forgotten; the people were cheering and hollering as before.

Henry could see the way Hans’ jaw worked. Neither of them were laughing. Hans’ hand left Henry’s shoulder, instead balling in a fist by his side. It looked painful, the way his knuckles strained against his pale skin, the bone almost coming through.

He saw a decision forming behind those blue eyes. Although he didn’t understand the motivation or the context, he knew it had something to do with the failure of yesterday. Henry also knew that there was nothing he could do to stop him, so he waited and watched, his hand ready to draw his sword.

It happened while Sir Hanush was stroking his beard for added comedic effect. Henry could only reach after Hans as he strode across the room, pushing the knights, merchants, ladies and other cackling bystanders out of the way.

"Let me do it, let this be my journey, uncle!" His hand at his heart and his head held high, he continued, "I want to show you that I am a capable man. My latest failure has shown you how deep I can sink; let me prove to you otherwise. And if I should fail, rest assured you haven’t lost anything of value."

"Good God, Hans, it’s only a joke!" Hanush said. "But have it your way, if this is what it takes for you to right your wrongs… Be brave of heart! And true of soul! Or… something like that. I’m no actor."

Hans took the axe from his uncle. The arrival of the knight must have sobered him up, because he held the weapon unwaveringly. Henry couldn’t see his face, but he knew there was determination in them, felt it in his stance as he raised the axe above his head, hesitating before the strike.

"Wait, noble Sir, before we go any further, please tell me your name," the knight said.

"You know it already: Hans Capon, just like my father. Now get ready for my strike, and remember it well; otherwise, it’d be very embarrassing to meet you again in one month’s time!"

Henry was almost relieved at hearing his lord’s joking tone, but their current predicament didn’t allow for any levity. Despite the crowd's laughter, nothing pointed towards this being an elaborate joke for the festivities. Still, what else could it be? The gleaming of the blade in the firelight seemed to suggest a sure, if not deadly, strike. He watched unblinkingly as the stranger bent down on one knee and lowered his head with an audible crack of bone. The air shifted as Hans seemed to understand what was expected of him in this game. He raised his arms and let the blade fall upon the man.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers when the knight's head rolled onto the stone floor. His hair hid the gruesome sight of bone and flesh from view, but the blood spilt regardless, covering Hans’ feet in red. But the body never fell. Instead, the knight reached out for his head, grabbed it by his locks, and rose from his knees. A loud gasp escaped Hans as the man walked away and out of the door. Outside, they could hear the sound of hooves as he took off, no doubt scaring the townspeople out of their drunken stupor.

Hanush stepped up behind Hans and clapped him on the back. "You have never made me prouder in my life! A show like that is fit for the king, maybe we should show this to him after we have freed him!" He laughed heartily, their fight from earlier already forgotten. He steered his nephew back to the table where Radzig was sitting with his head buried in his hands. "Maybe you should run away and become an actor. Actually, don't do that," he added sternly. "What a show, eh, Radzig! I bet you’ve never seen anything like that in Prague! I demand to know who’s responsible for this, I’ll knight them on the spot, haha!"

Hans stared into the nothingness ahead of him, accepting the wine his uncle handed him. Henry sought his eyes, and when Hans finally looked up to meet him, there was horror on his face like he’d never seen before. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth was a shivering line, and his features were as pale as a revenant. After downing his goblet, he rose unsteadily from his seat and headed for the door. Henry followed him a moment later.

The feast continued long into the night, the full moon rising over the merry town of Rattay, watching over them. Henry and Hans fled from its light, hiding in the shadows of Henry’s room. They were sitting on Henry’s bed, Mutt on the floor next to them, listening to the music and the sound of voices near and far. The light of the full moon spilled through the cracks of the wooden panels. Henry shuddered at the sight of it.

"It didn’t feel like it was fake," Hans finally spoke, his voice a weak breath. "It felt like cutting through flesh. The man should’ve been dead on the spot."

"An elaborate joke, maybe?"

“I know what it feels like to cut through flesh, Henry," he gripped the bedsheets tight, leaning into Henry’s space. “And soon he’ll know what mine feels like.”

“In four weeks! We have enough time to arrest this man. Nobody needs to get hurt. And you heard what he said; he came in peace," Henry laid his hand on top of Hans’. It did little to soothe him, though. Hans looked away, breathing loudly through his open mouth. Henry continued holding his hand until his lord eased back on the wooden wall, closing his eyes.

After a while, just before both of them passed out on the straw mattress, Henry whispered into the night: "You must prepare for this journey tomorrow, and don’t underestimate his words, it may yet come true. But rest assured, I will stand by your side."

Sir Hans nodded, then his head fell onto Henry’s shoulder, his breathing deepening.

Notes:

Now we can begin with the story, huzzah!

I named Hans' father after himself because his name in real life is also Jan Ptáček, just as Hans' name is Jan Ptáček. Do you know what I mean? Maybe I will change my mind later, but right now, this makes sense to me. And also, it isn't an important detail haha.

Thank you for reading!! :) I am just getting back into writing after being #hashtag writers BLOCKED for months or maybe even years, and this is just so much fun!!!!!

Notes:

I need you to know that I wrote part of this in a historically accurate 15th century underwart-dress-thingy. Anyway, thanks for reading! This was the introduction chapter :)