Chapter Text
"And we have a winner, Henry of Skalitz, once again!"
The small crowd that had assembled around the tourney pen shouted, some in celebrations on their bets as others lamented their losses. As the months passed, fewer and fewer lamented, as everyone seemed to understand that Henry would remain undefeated for a while.
Once in a while though, a wandering knight or mercenary would come and seize his chance, and the people would bet on him. So far, none had won against him.
Among the indistinct voices, he heard a familiar cheer.
On the side, eyes enraptured on a small blond head trying with one hand to make tinier clap between one another, stood Hans scooping Hynce.
Henry scoffed from his corner of the pen before prying his helmet from his head and joining them.
"I'm not sure a tourney is the right place for a child, Sir," Henry said as he approached them. Hans looked up from the small boy and beamed at the knight.
"Nonsense! He's spent all day cooped up inside with the maids and his mother; if I didn't bring him out there, he'd start embroidering before five, and it's never too early to learn about noble sports like sword fighting." The nobleman blabbered, eyes returning to the child. "Isn't that right, Hynce?"
The boy was far from a child gifted with reason yet, complex understandings were still beyond him, however he was now old enough to know when he was being addressed to, which often lead him to nod or shake his head to anything and everything without truly understanding the true meaning of it.
In a similar fashion, the boy's attention turned to his father when he heard his name and started nodding. A wicked and victorious grin spread on Hans' face at having a faithful yes-man in his arms when Henry dared to question him.
"And how is Lady Jitka?" The knight asked as the crowd finally scattered.
"Happy to taste the fresh air, I couldn't even imagine staying cooped up in that room for as long as she did. Now that she is free, she wants to visit Kunstadt with Hynce to see her father. Who am I to refuse her?" Hans explained with a hurried chuckle at the end, shifting Hynce's weight in his arm as the boy slipped his father's grasp.
"Like she'd give you a choice, you're from the same stock, her and you." Henry chuckled with a small nudge of his feet.
"Nobles?"
"Run-aways, I'm sure she'd climb out the window to go to Kunstadt herself if you forbid her." Henry beamed at Hans' gaping face. "Or rather charm and bribe her way out, that seems more her style."
"When have I ever done that?" He asked in a shriek, which only made Henry chuckle even more.
"Don't tell me you've never thought about it in your whole life. I wouldn't believe you."
Hans' lips contorted as he racked his brain, then relented.
"I might have thought about it when Hanush locked me up before the wedding."
Hynce wiggled in his father's grasp, his attention drawn to the shine of Henry's helmet. Wordlessly, Henry set the helmet on the pen's railing, holding it with one hand so it wouldn't fall. Quickly enough, little hands started pawing at the visor, fingers poking through the slits.
"Don't get your fingers stuck in there, you'll be the one repaying Henry his helmet when we have to pry it open." Hans warned as he redirected the boy's fingers out of the slits. There was no heat behind the words, but Henry still noticed the tension in the nobleman's shoulder.
"You're worried. About Kunstadt?" Henry poked carefully, and Hans opened up with a deep sigh.
"Of course I am; we were neck deep in Cumans not even 3 years ago, and the roads are far from safe still. Sending her and Hynce away should worry me." His eyes fell back to his son's blond hair, his free hand brushing them away from his face.
"I'm sure it'll be fine. They won't be on their own, and if you're really worried I could go with them," Henry offered helpfully, cut short by Hynce trying once again to stick his fingers in the slits of his helmet.
Hans shifted the boy on his right side to keep him away from the helmet, to the child's chagrin.
"No, you're right. They should be fine, and I'd much prefer to keep you here. With both of them gone, it'll be like old times, just you and me."
"And Hanush, Radzig, the whole guard and the maids." Henry chuckled at Hans' theatrical pout.
"Ah-ah, hilarious. Surely, Hal, with all the time you've spent here, I thought you would've grown used to it. Perhaps old habits are harder to shake off than dirt under one's nails." The nobleman threw at him playfully, "Speaking of dirt, you would do well to clean yourself off after rolling around in the pen or you'll offend Jitka with the smell."
Henry looked down at himself; the dirt caking his clothes and armor and the moist of his sweat he felt in his armor at any shift. A bath would do him good indeed.
Hans had meant to use his time alone to plan an outing for him and Henry, something for when Jitka and Hynce would depart for Kunstadt. Different from their usual hunting trips. He'd first thought about that promise he made about visiting the Holy Land, but that was a tad too far.
Perhaps they could go to Prague together, visit the city. They didn't get to visit much of Kuttenberg together when they were in the region.
However, when he returned Hynce to the maids and went to climb the stairs, he stopped in his tracks.
Through the gates ambled an unknown horse with a similarly unknown rider. He unmounted in one smooth motion, his eyes scanning the inner bailey and lighting up in recognition when they locked with Hans.
"My lord!" He called out as he walked to the bottom of the stairs, Hans climbed down to meet him.
"Do I know you?" Hans asked, wariness seeping into his tone.
The man—or rather the boy, for he didn't look older than seventeen—was noticeably short; half a head shorter than Hans at least. Despite his size and age, the rider held himself tall and proud.
His brown hair, resembling a page's cut that wouldn't been tended in a year, were windswept from the ride.
The haircut only exacerbated the round face of the young lad. He looked closer to a cherub than man, the kind that people wrote about a few centuries ago; soft, round and delicate, doe-eyed.
"No, Sir. But I've got a message for you and Henry from Zizka." The smaller man explained, fishing sealed letters from his pouch.
"Zizka?" Hans asked incredulously, unsure why the man would send them a message now. Still, when the boy handed him one letter, he took it. "I didn't know Zizka hired children."
The messenger laughed and then shook his head.
"I'm older than I look, Sir."
"That's what I used to say too." Hans waited for the boy to leave, now that he had delivered the letter, but he stood there. "Yes?"
"Where could I find Henry?" He asked, shaking the remaining paper in his hand.
"I'm afraid you won't reach him anytime soon today, but I could deliver it to him. If Zizka trusts me with it." Of course, the temptation to snoop was strong, but there was little chance Hans could without breaking the seal.
"Here you go, sir." The boy said with a flourish of his hand to give him the letter. He turned on his heel and walked to his horse.
"What's your name?" Hans screamed out. The messenger turned around with a surprised expression, realizing he didn't even present himself.
"Apologies, my name is Sualem, my lord." He gave a curt bow before finally mounting his horse and riding off through the gate he initially came through.
Hans stood at the bottom of the stairs, a little stunned at the strange encounter. He gently shook his head before climbing up the stairs once again, his mind still trying to make sense of the young man.
His fingers drummed on the table in the hall of Pirkstein, the only sound in the silent room. Hans' eyes kept falling to the letters he'd received, tempted to open them both but dreading even opening his.
For all he knew, Zizka was begging Hans to hand Henry over to his band. They both knew, perhaps Henry included, that the man would never leave if the nobleman didn't tell him to.
So, he hadn't opened it yet again. If he never opened it, he'd never know what Zizka wanted, and perhaps ignorance was preferable.
The door opened as Henry walked in. The man stopped in his tracks when he saw his lord sitting in the room on his own but quickly recovered.
An idea sparked in Hans' mind; he retrieved the letter on the table and handed it to Henry.
"Zizka's messenger had a letter for you and I," he said with a smile on his face. Henry took it without further prompting and opened it before even sitting down.
As the knight's eyes examined the letters, Hans focused on the man, observing his reaction.
"Good news?" He prompted as Henry's face gave surprisingly little.
"Just… letting us know they still live, more or less. He says he feels something brewing but doesn't go further." The man explained with a convincing shrug.
Something in Hans' gut relaxed. He huffed in answer, half from relief of his own worries and half about the content of the letter.
"But since when did Zizka have a messenger? Who was it?" Henry asked, discarding the open letter onto the table. The gesture crushed whatever doubts lingered, because if he had lied, he would not have thrown the letter within reach.
"Since now, it seems. Sualem's the name, never heard it before. Though I don't know how much time I'd give him, that boy was still wet behind the ears. I wouldn't be surprised if Zizka sheltered him after he ran away from home. Zizka loves collecting strays." Hans said in a monotone voice, his hands toying with his own letter.
Henry nodded at that, his attention drawn to the nobleman's fidgeting hands.
"What about yours?" He threw with a jerk of his head toward the sealed letter. Hans sighed, better get rid of it now and fast than drag it on.
With a swift gesture, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter; as he did, something clattered to the table toward its edge. With more reflexes than anything, Hans flattened his hand on the escaping object to prevent its fall. Once he was sure it wouldn't budge anymore, he lifted his hand.
It was a ring.
Hans picked it up and brought it closer to his face with knitted brows. It was a gold beveled ring, bare of any precious stone. Instead, on each bevel were carved people; on one side Mary Magdalene, on the other the Virgin Mary.
Understanding dawned on him in such a painful seize he almost dropped the ring again. His mouth gaped wordlessly as his eyes refused to let go of the ring.
At his side, Henry scooted closer to see what had enraptured him.
"Why is Zizka giving you a ring?" He asked over Hans' shoulder.
"It was my mother's, but how did—" Hans said in a rush of breath. He delicately put the ring down to read the letter for an answer. Unfortunately, the explanation was lackluster.
"How did he get it?"
"He's impossibly vague about it, but it seems he just… found it in someone's belongings." Hans explained off-handedly as he kept reading the letter.
Henry scratched his beard, puzzled.
"Why was it in someone else's stuff?" He asked. Hans answered with a sigh, letting go of the letter to take the ring in his hands once again.
"Probably lost in a gamble." His fingers caressed the engravings; the ring looked almost dainty in his fingers. He remembered it being bigger on his mother's hand.
"You gambled it?!" The man behind him said in alarm, so close to Hans' ear it made the nobleman wince.
"Of course not, you dolt! It was Hanush…" Hans sighed again. Henry shifted behind him to lean on the table and look at him properly. "When he lost more than he gained, it… happened that he gambled away things that weren't his to give. At first, I tried to track them down and buy them back, but at some point, I just grew tired of it."
Henry didn't answer, just nodded as he listened.
"My father had it done for my mother, I don't know when, but I know she never took it off." His finger traced the inside of the ring, where her name remained though smoothed out by the years of wear.
"Do you remember her well?" Henry asked in a gentle voice. Hans shrugged.
"Not really. As soon as I was old enough to stop clinging to her dresses, she moved away. My father was old and had an heir; I think none of them saw a point to her remaining in Pirkstein." Hans fell silent, emotions churning inside of him.
He'd wished she'd stayed, childishly. Perhaps life in Pirkstein would've been easier, less isolating, if she had. Or perhaps she had been in the same spot as he before he was born; alone, waiting for something—anything—to happen. If so, could he really blame her for leaving, when he only dreamed of doing the same?
He wondered if she ever missed him as he missed her.
He should've asked himself these questions earlier in life, when she was still alive, then he could've asked her why.
His thoughts turned to Hynce; was he repeating what his own father had done? A single child, then pay Jitka a nice sum to live her own life far away from him and the boy?
He comforted himself with the idea that Pirkstein had never been this lively. With Hanush, Radzig, Henry, Hynce and Jitka, not even mentioning all the new staff that had followed with all these arrivals, the castle had never been fuller. Even when compared to when his parents were still there.
It made the days easier for him; he'd always hated being alone. He hoped it would be enough for Hynce, that he wouldn't live what his father had experienced and learned how cold a castle can be.
Weary of toying with the ring, he slips it on his left pinky. What fitted on his mother's index squeezed on his weaker hand, but he didn't mind as long as his finger didn't turn blue and cold.
"It's pretty," Henry said as both men looked at the ring adorning his finger.
"It was my mother's, of course it is." Hans answered soberly, wanting to take it back as quickly as he said it. He didn't like to bare himself so, and when he did, he couldn't help wanting to fold onto himself until everyone moved on.
Instead, Henry's hand squeezed his shoulder, and that crawling feeling disappeared on its own. Henry didn't mind him being vulnerable, or truthful.
"Can't believe I owe Zizka now; I don't think he'll ever let me forget it now." Hans answered instead, bringing their conversation back to safer ground. Henry chuckled.
"I think he meant it as a gift rather than a debt. But even if he did, consider Suchdol repayment enough, aye?"
The nobleman nodded wordlessly as he folded back the letter, his eye catching on the glint of the ring anytime his hand moved. It'll take some getting used to.
By the time Henry came back outside, the air had grown crisper, and the sun had lowered. The familiar castle became only dark shapes rather than stone and wood as the last rays of light fled to the horizon.
He had to squint on his way down the stairs if he wanted to see them, lest he landed on his ass. He would've welcomed a torch, but it was a quick trip to his room, and it seemed he'd gone out in the exact moment where things get too dark right before torches start lighting up all around.
His door opened with a deafened creak when he pushed it. He lit up a candle first, aiding himself with the little light left outside to do so, before closing the door behind him. The shadows of the room danced with the candle, itself moved by Henry’s breath and movement.
Ready to call it a day, he walked to his chest to take off his clothes. He watched as the shadow of the chest shifted as he marched closer. He gently put the candleholder on the ground as he opened the lid.
With swift motions, he unbuckled his belt before taking his shirt off. It's with a fistful of fabric that he sees it.
Laid on top of his untidy belongings in the chest was a folded-up letter.
Driven more by instinct than wits, he bolted to his feet and turned around on his feet. The sudden movement made the light of the candle flicker and his shadow move across the ground and wall. So close to the candle, it looked gigantic.
As the flame steadied, so did the darkness. In the impossible stillness that had suddenly inhabited Henry, like a doe facing the hunter, it became apparent that no one was here.
Barely a split second after that realization, Henry scoffed. His room was barely big enough to hide anyone, if someone had been there with him, he would've walked all over them before finding their little note.
That didn't explain why there was a note in his chest, though.
They all had moved past the break-in; not exactly forgotten, but not mentioned. They had no lead, no suspects, nothing. It was easier to sleep at night if they never thought about it until another incident happened, and then everyone looked at each other with the same thought.
'Is this it again?'
He lowered to the ground again, dropping his shirt to grab the folded paper.
'I have sworn to never know peace as long as you drew breath on this earth. Face me instead of cowering behind your lord, or he'll learn how useless a stray bastard can be when his precious heir leaves for Kunstadt.
Meet me where it all began.
Postscriptum: I have helped myself to what is mine. You would do well to not steal what isn't yours once more, though you won't live long enough to offend again.'
Henry's heart leapt into his throat. The note had no signature or seal, but he knew who it was from without it, like the invisible scents Mutt would track.
He threw the note over his shoulders, digging his hands into his chest to search frantically for what they had taken, accounting for every bit and piece of his belongings.
After searching thoroughly two times, and another time just to make extra sure, he couldn't find anything missing…
Except Istvan's chaperon.
He didn't even know why he'd taken it in the first place. He'd wanted to make sure the man was dead at first. Needed the proof and reassurance that the man in his nightmares was only a nightmare, no more flesh.
When he saw the chaperon on the cross, he took it without thinking. He'd never seen the man without, having it was a testament of his nightmare's death. Evidence that something like Vranik would never happen again.
But even dead, it seemed, Istvan was hellbent on haunting him forever.
He rose to his feet after retrieving the note once more, deliberating.
Informing Hans would make sense, his son is directly involved… But the man was already worried about Hynce's journey as it was. Telling him would just force Hans to choose between him and Hynce; Henry didn't know what the nobleman would choose. Didn't think he'd ever want to know.
There was only one thing to do.
He bent down to grab his shirt and belts, dressing back up in a hurry. If he left now, God willing, he might be back before anyone notices he's gone.
He closed the chest back with his foot and blew the candle, forgotten melting on the ground, before grabbing the note and leaving the room at a hurried pace.
Once outside and with Pebbles tacked and ready—that he did himself, given the late hour and his wish for discretion—he looked around for Mutt, but the dog was nowhere to be seen.
"Mutt!" He whispered, unwilling to whistle after him. "Mutt, come here, boy!"
To Henry's surprise, Mutt came running from a corner of the inner bailey, tail wagging and panting.
"There you go, boy!" Henry let go of Pebbles' reins to crouch and scratch the dog.
Carefully, he approached the paper to the dog's snout, making sure the dog didn't munch on it thinking it's a treat.
Mutt's initial reaction was to bite down on it, but Henry was quick enough to take it away and gave the dog a stern look. When he extended the paper again, the dog took the hint and sniffed it instead.
Well used to this, Mutt started sniffing around without Henry saying anything. The man watched as the dog scanned the entire area, starting from the door to his room.
He sniffed at it for a while before moving on and tracing the invisible thread that linked the scent to their target. When the dog walked toward the gate, Henry mounted Pebbles in a swift motion and followed Mutt.
Turning around, he gave one last look to the dark shape of Pirkstein, only broken up by the candlelit windows. Once he dealt with it, they would be safe and finally at peace.
Slipping away like a ghost without even a torch, his only presence punctuated by his horse's hooves and the prints it left in the dirt; lost in the many other prints of horses and shoes. No one would have to know what he'd done if they didn't know he was gone.
Only when he reached the city's gate did he light up a torch and ambled away from home, following his faithful companion to his confrontation and nightmares.