Chapter Text
Uncharacteristic for Radzig, a man who thrives within the confines of conflict, the tension in the hall is difficult to stomach.
The meal is immaculate, a table set for the blood as blue as the Heavens above, and the conversation polite, nothing too overt or crude, mere pleasantries and goings-on about the day to come. He has feasted at this table, partaken in the droll conversation, and laughed under the influence of too much wine from Hanush’s cellars, and yet with each passing day, the unspoken edge to every word spoken becomes a bigger, bolder guest at each meal.
Lord Hans Capon knows all too well how to hold court at a banquet table, a thousand stories and jests begging to be spilled off a tongue so glib, no one can stand to tolerate it for more than one sitting before one tires of his sharp wit. Today, though, all amiable cheer is hidden away, tucked deep beneath the breast of his livid yellow pourpoint. The few times Lady Jitka, a pretty girl but quiet to a fault, spares him a look, he offers her a well-practiced smile – lips folded back over teeth, jaw set, eyes deader than the roe he brought back on his latest hunting trip – and asks her if she would like a slice of apple off a knife sharp enough to slice through the mail.
And without fail, the girl refuses him every single time.
“Thank you again, my lord, but I prefer pears.”
“Pears? Who in the world prefers a pear over apples?”
“It would seem as though I do, my lord.”
“Ah.”
Radzig watches them as though he’s standing in the front view of a performing minstrel troupe about to be set ablaze by the Wrath of the Almighty. Holy intervention would be a relief to his ears, at the very least.
The marriage celebrations in the weeks previous were a rousing triumph for Hanush, for alliances forged and power consolidated, and he has yet to stop boasting about their good fortune. A good match for all those involved.
Though Radzig’s old friend is happy, it is clear to anyone with willing and open eyes, that Capon disagrees. He has been beaten down, the weight of a duty he was prepared for from the moment he breathed life for the first time, finally having gotten the better of him.
The undercurrent of thick, unspoken tension, the guest they must ignore, between the young lord and his wife leaves Radzig with a headache he never expected to be afflicted with. To act now without stirring the pot more than it’s already been churned, mixed, beaten, and then boiled to sludge, is his only choice. He’s overheard more than one discussion he wishes he could scrub his mind clear of, and now that his house is directly involved in the matter, his hand is, at last, being forced.
They are all standing on mounds of gunpowder, and one of them is holding a torch. One wrong word, one moment lost in a fog of youthful indiscretion, and…
The door to the dining chambers opens, and Radzig only needs to watch the transformation of Sir Hans’ expression – polite boredom to pure jubilation – to know who has, at last, come to see them.
“Henry, goodness, it’s about time you showed up! Then again, I didn’t even realize you weren’t here until a moment ago,” Capon lies as though he hasn’t spent the entire meal glaring daggers through the door, his fingers dancing with anxious energy across his knife every time Henry did not walk past the threshold. “Where have you been?”
“Apologies for my lateness, my lords. My lady,” Henry greets, offering a hasty bow to Lady Jitka, whose lips purse into a faint smile. They seem polite with one another, not friends nor enemies, but, uncharacteristically for Henry, he treats Lady Jitka as though she were a distant, foreign entity he has no means to communicate with.
Henry is truly the only person he knows who could befriend a shepherd and his sheep, should he he feel a strong enough affinity, and for him not to immediately take the time to get to know his closest friend’s wife, speaks very loudly. Almost as loudly as the deafening silence that continues to echo among them.
More than a little honored by the half-arsed duck of a shoulder in Radzig’s general vicinity, he does his best to steady himself. The broken boy he brought into his service would have never fathomed to be so disrespectful to his liege lord, but that boy has been replaced by a man…and a son. A son, not a soldier.
A son, not a soldier who happened to oversleep if the unruly state of his hair says much.
“Get in late last night, did you, lad?” Hanush rumbles, half-asleep himself, slumped over in his seat that he is. Pierced on his fork, a thick slab of bacon is held to his mouth, his teeth sinking into the fat like a person of normal appetite might chew on bread. “I don’t fault you for enjoying yourself, if I didn’t have the fucking laborers hammering outside at my window at all hours, I’d have stayed in bed until the sunset. I should have never consented to build that new tournament fence.”
Henry blushes much like his mother once did; slowly, then all at once.
From the neck all the way up to the tips of her ears, Anna would turn poppy red. Oh, how angry she would grow, not with him, but with herself for committing the grave sin of allowing Radzig to get to her the way he did. He adored every precious moment spent making her lose her unflappable cool.
Love has its way of changing a person, for ill or for better. He was not sentimental in his youth, never poetic in thought or habit, yet here he sits two decades later and still thinks of the same girl, with the same blush, in the same manner to this very day. He wonders where he falls – for ill or for better.
“I’m sorry to hear your sleep has been disrupted, Lord Hanush, but I didn’t overextend myself, I merely lost track of time in the hall speaking with Captain Bernard. I’ve agreed to help him soon,” he fibs. Henry is a fine liar, a born charmer if there ever was one, but Radzig knows his son well. Nothing can keep that boy from a meal, not even Captain Bernard and his many, many lectures and boasts. Aside from Henry’s indomitable appetite, he saw Bernard early ruining the lives of three new recruits they picked up in the training pen. “Again, apologies for my lateness.”
Hanush waves him away, already back to awarding his bacon with all the attention he can spare amidst a hangover. Capon, though, sits forward in his seat, his blue eyes having taken on an entirely new sparkle since Henry walked into the room. “Stop apologizing, you fool,” he scolds, his smile so very wide, it’s a wonder he can see with the way his cheeks stretch. “Sit yourself down and fill your plate, we have a full day ahead of us today, my friend. I was thinking we could go on a hunting trip tomorrow, the sun is out in full force, which bodes well for the days to come.”
Radzig can count on one hand how many days, how many moments , Capon and Henry have spent apart since their time away. It is rare to see one without the other, whether here in the castle or out in town. Their renewed closeness could be seen as a boon to both the flourishing region and the ears of the castle inhabitants who no longer have to hear the two bicker like a pair of old maids.
Could be. It really could be.
“Here,” Capon continues, “why not sit here and we can discuss where we want to –”
“My lord, I am sorry to interrupt, but you agreed to spend tomorrow evening with me,” Lady Jitka cuts in, sounding more exasperated than angry by her husband’s lack of interest in haunting her deserted chambers. The book on her lap is hidden by the folds of her skirt, a trick she’s learned to bring out at every meal, believing no one has noticed how she truly spends most of her waking hours – reading. “Remember what we discussed? We spoke of the matter at length.”
Henry looks away as Sir Hans’ expression plummets to the depths of the hold, into the dirt and muck of the earth. “Oh, yes, of course, we did, I did indeed promise…that.”
“We need an heir, boy!” Hanush admonishes. “I can’t believe I have to say this to you of all people but you can’t be running off with Henry every other minute of the day and still hope a babe will be made.” He casts a sleepy-eyed glance at Lady Jitka. “Begging your pardon, my lady, I know you’ve gathered what a brat you married but you shouldn’t need to hear such unpleasantness.”
“All is well, Sir Hanush,” the girl replies, absent, escaping to the written world inside her book.
But speaking of wily youth who wish to escape from unfortunate situations, Henry is already half angled towards the door, his body poised to bolt, an excuse all ready to released onto them so he can spare himself the torturous ruin that is the great joining of Sir Hans and Lady Jitka.
“Come and join me, Henry, there’s a matter I wish to discuss with you,” Radzig says calmly, patting the seat next to him.
Capon looks at him, aghast, and he swallows back a laugh, certain the boy is biting a hole through his tongue to keep from objecting. Technically, though Capon has opened his home to the people of Silver Skalitz, Radzig outranks him by the order of his title as Royal Hetman, and it delights him endlessly to know that his authority haunts the boy.
Henry quirks a brow at Sir Hans, a thread of silent communication weaving between them and leaving everyone else out in the cold. “Of course, Father.” He slips around behind behind the head table, his right hand brushing across Capon’s back as he goes by. “Oops, sorry, my lord.”
“You’re forgiven,” Capon sniffs, not hiding his delight well. “Just this once though.”
“Just this once,” Henry echoes, then stops and stares down at his plate. “How many apples did you cut? Will you be feeding all of Rattay?”
Lady Jitka lets out a delicate snort, her head ducking down to hide the smile come alive on her pale pink lips. Capon attempts to hide how flustered he is with a flourish of the knife, a slice of apple pierced through on the tip.
“I am very hungry. Would you care for a slice? I can spare it for my favorite peasant.” Radzig coughs. Pointedly. “Er, half-peasant.”
Good-natured as ever, Henry rolls his eyes. “I’m honored by your sacrifice, my lord,” he says, plucking the slice off with a crooked grin.
He’s got your damned smile , Martin once groused to him during a late-night meeting in the shadows of his forge.
Every few weeks, sometimes longer if Radzig was away, they would gather and he could be updated on Henry’s wellbeing – not that he didn’t have an eye on the boy himself, but it was easier to hear stories from Martin. On occasion, Anna would be there in his stead, her voice soft in the darkness, a mere echo of what they used to whisper late into the night, but the pain of losing her never did dull, and it was a balm to his frayed heart whenever he didn’t have to hear her talk about their son.
The lad charms everyone he meets, he’s already got all the girls wrapped around his little finger – somehow, the bleeding boys too! Martin laughed and laughed. I blame you for that too, Radzig. He’s got himself a lordling’s tongue. We got to keep an eye on him or he’s going to be running a bandit gang before he’s reached his eleventh summer.
While Martin hadn’t meant anything by the jest, the longer Radzig observes Capon and his inability to look away from Henry’s backside for even a moment in polite company, he fears he saw more potential in Henry’s innate charms than he could have ever fathomed.
Not for the first time since their deaths, Radzig mourns the loss of Anna and Martin, and how the tragedy changed the trajectory of so many lives. If they had lived, it is true, the truth of Henry’s birth may have been received differently – for he always planned to tell Henry, that damned sword was never meant to be his, after all – he might have rejected blood and followed in Martin’s footsteps, set off to be a blacksmith and never pick up a blade unless it was forged by his hand.
Parenting, as it turns out, is rather difficult, and what he would give to not to be knee-deep in this muck alone.
“Morning,” Henry mutters to him, as he reaches for a plate of cheese and bread. A stocky servant slips between them and pours wine into Henry’s goblet. “Thanks, Pavel. How’s your ma? She feeling better?”
“I – yes, sir. She’s got her color back and is back to baking. Thank you again for the potion, sir,” the boy squeaks.
“No need to thank me,” Henry shrugs. “Marigold decoctions are nothing to brew up. I am glad to help whenever I can.”
The boy turns a deep shade of crimson to match the wine he carries between his scuffed hands. “You’re Heaven sent, sir!”
Henry wrinkles his nose. “That’s a bit much.”
“Indeed,” Radzig agrees, all but sending the poor servant boy into a state of immediate panic, his cheeks draining as fast as they heated up. He slowly slides his feet back until he’s plastered against the wall. “You haven’t seen Henry when he’s hungry, he changes from a man to a beast.”
For emphasis, Radzig drops a piece of untouched bacon from his plate onto Henry’s.
“I’m not that bad,” Henry says…before cutting off a chunk, then another, all but devouring the slab in a few measly bites.
Radzig hums low under his breath. “Appetites aside, do you truly go about remembering the names of everyone in the castle?”
“Someone has to,” Henry shrugs, peeking over at Capon. Capon, of course, is watching – they exchange slight smirks, the faintest curve of a brow, the tilt of a head, and for a brief moment, lose themselves once more in another round of blatant mooning. Lord above, spare me. “Sir Hans sure as hell won’t remember who works for him, and if we want to avoid an untimely poisoning, I like to keep friendly with the servants.”
“Very smart of you, but I expect nothing less from a bodyguard as capable as you are.”
“Eh, it’s nothing. I’d be friendly with everyone around here anyway. They’re hard workers and good people, they don’t need some lord snapping their fingers at them like they’re cattle,” Henry says with a faint frown. He gravitates back to the bread and bites down on the chunk with a thoughtful nod. “Nobles could do with knowing the people who serve them, they work their fingers to the bone for them, they do what they ask, no matter the cost or effort, and they don’t earn an ounce of respect for it.” Henry tenses and looks at him from the corner of his eye, his mouth twisting to the side. “Er, no offense, sir .”
“None taken,” Radzig chuckles. During their youth, Anna never shied away from sharing her opinions of the nobility, how no one was too good for a little hard work, and her fire was passed down onto their boy, he could never hold ideals such as those against him. “I’ve heard from far worse from far prettier faces.”
Brow furrowed, Henry freezes, a triangle of cheese caught between his teeth.
“What–” His blue eyes widen and Radzig is awarded, at last, his full attention. “Ma?”
The eagerness glimmering back at him in silent wonder brings out an echo of hurt that has burrowed its way deep down into his soul. Speaking of Anna to anyone is a task he has not set out to do in some time, not since her death and his hasty confession to Hanush that his bastard son might be showing his face very soon. On the other hand, it’s far easier to talk of Martin, a friend, loyal and brave, who lived the life and the role he couldn’t hope to.
Anna…
Well, there is a reason he never married. Some wounds simply don’t ever heal.
“Aye, your mother humbled me often,” Radzig reminisces, his voice low so as to keep this between them. “One time, I made a foolish comment to her, one you, I’m sure, have heard from our Sir Hans, about the work of a nobleman outweighing that of a commoner.” Anna’s furious face comes to life through his memories of her, her fists clenched and her teeth bared, the taste of her ire on his tongue after she stifled his laughter for good. “I learned to regret that. I was…convinced to assist her for the day. Her father owned the apothecary in town, and he left her in charge of their gardens. I often made a habit of coming down with terrible awful stomach aches that just so happened to force the need for me to hurry off and buy a tonic every other day from them.” Henry lets out a soft exhale, a near laugh. “My back was never quite the same after that day. Your mother was quite the taskmaster.”
Hours picking herbs and plucking weeds, running between shops and homes, making deliveries, and carrying heavy bundles that no one as tiny as Anna should have been able to carry. By the end of a single day, he was starving and sweaty and exhausted…while Anna mentioned feeling a tad peckish. Peckish! He was near dying and she wanted a snack!
After that, he never looked down upon a commoner again after she showed him the true meaning of work.
Henry has stopped eating, a true miracle in and of itself, and he’s leaned in closer to drink in every word spared about his departed mother. Greater, deeper sadness spills over into Radzig’s calm facade. Perhaps he’s been unkind to Henry, in more than the most obvious of manners, by keeping Anna’s memory to himself. There is so much Henry doesn’t know – about his mother, about what happened between them, about his entire lineage.
It is the duty of the father to pass on such knowledge to their child. The leniency he shows Henry has not escaped the notice of his allies, friends, and enemies. It has become quite clear that he cares more than is advisable about a bastard and given the ever-changing political climate, they may not have many chances going forward to talk as frankly as they can now.
“She really made you work like a commoner?”
From around Henry’s neck, a necklace spills out – a silver ring touched by a sapphire stone in the center and hanging from a leather cord – and Radzig forces himself not to react, to keep his eyes trained on his son’s eager face. He’s caught sight of the ring a handful of times before today, mere glimpses, but it’s a new addition to his son’s every outfit, from attire meant to combat a skirmish set about by bandits to a lazy day meandering from the castle to the tavern to the baths. The ring, he’s certain, only became a fixture after Sir Hans’ wedding.
In fact, Radzig recalls the first time he saw Henry wear it was during the wedding ceremony itself – and strangely enough, Sir Hans has been sporting a new ring as well, one embedded with sapphire gems to go alongside his marriage band.
Strange, indeed.
“She did,” Radzig nods, and because Henry is so near, he can make out an inscription engraved along the ring. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat.
An inward groan bubbles and toils up from his chest. To have such…salacious suspicions confirmed in the face of undeniable evidence is loathsome in the kindest of senses. How it’s come to this, he cannot be sure, but what he is sure of is that Henry’s streak of recklessness seems to center upon one man.
“You don’t talk about her much,” Henry says, hesitant, almost as though he’s worried he’ll anger him.
It’s a silly mindset for Henry to lose himself in. The only time in Henry’s entire life Radzig has been made angry by something he’s done, was in a moment of panic after he ignored direct orders and almost threw his life away to return to Skalitz after the attack, and even then, he reacted in fear of losing his son, not because a boy under his protection so flagrantly disobeyed him.
“No, I suppose I don’t, but why don’t we change that, hm?” Radzig nudges his son with a light jostle. “What I wanted to speak with you about, Hal – it’s connected to Martin and Anna. I plan to ride out to Skalitz and scope out the area for potential reconstruction efforts, and I was hoping you would join me.”
A lie, not one meant with malice, but a present opportunity forced to speak half-truths. He wants to speak to Henry, he needs to discuss matters with him far away from prying eyes and open ears, and Skalitz is an excellent place to have a discussion. Respects can be paid and a lost cause can be fully realized.
Most of his people have moved on to Pribyslavitz, the settlement far surpassing any hopes Divish confided in him, while the others have settled throughout the other villages and towns all around the Sasau region. They do not need a home to return to, not any longer, and it’s good then they are settled because His Majesty has made up his mind. Silver Skalitz is no more.
Henry stares down at his plate, lips parted in… surprise? Confusion? Perhaps both. He’s a deep thinker, a trait he picked up from Martin along the way, and mulls over how to respond to each person he comes across to avoid a hasty encounter.
“ Ahem .”
Radzig refrains from rolling his eyes at the obnoxious bout of throat clearing coming from his right, and smiles instead, a perfect placid upturn of his lips he learned from years of dealing with fellow members of the nobility, both those who annoy him and those who… annoy him even more so.
“Yes, Sir Hans?”
Capon has his own version of a politician’s smile, merely less practiced than Radzig’s own, and it comes out in full force. “Sir Radzig, my friend –”
Eying the younger man from the tips of his golden head to the long fingers still wrapped around a knife, Radzig tilts his head. Friends. That may be a hasty descriptor.
Allies they are, yes. Mutual respect, also yes. Friends…well, ask him again in a few days.
The blood pools out of Sir Hans’ cheeks. “Er, sir, I need Henry here.”
“Do you now?” Radzig asks jovially. “Is my Henry to be a good luck charm for you?”
It’s cruel of him to be so crude with poor Lady Jitka sitting right there, but a part of Radzig, the part buried deep under the ruins of fatherhood he never got to sink his teeth into, is angry. Angry at Capon for corrupting his son. Angry at Henry for falling for the boy’s dubious charms. Most of all, he’s angry at himself for not protecting Henry better. He kept away to keep him safe and to keep him in his mother’s arms. If the wrong person were to notice the wrong thing at the right time…
Consequences come for all those who defy the Church. Capon will be humiliated, stripped of his jewels, and laid bare at the foot of the Most Holy, forced to repent under the gaze of their Lord Jesus, and then in private, a silver-starved reckoning will come but he will withstand as long as the coin flows into their weighed down robes. It’s Henry though – his son who will be the one to suffer the worst of it. All the good Henry has done for so many people will be forgotten in the face of mortal sin, he will be vilified and shunned by those he has helped and bled for, and be left to be devoured by the sacri lupi.
The sharp line of Capon’s shoulders is drawn tight, his perfect smile wavering, but to his credit, it stays in place for the most part. In a distant way, Radzig admires how he’s grown and matured into someone capable enough to hold a position of power – should that power ever be relinquished, of course.
The change in Capon is all Henry’s doing. Their meeting seems to have spurred Capon in a direction paved by maturity and inner strength. A year ago, the young man would have lashed out at the sly dig, and let his bruised ego fester into a grudge, but he takes Radzig’s words in stride and moves forward without making a scene.
“Need I remind you, Sir Radzig, you placed Henry in my service,” Capon says, his fingers twitching away on that knife of his.
“And need I remind you, Sir Hans, I could do with a right hand of my own who is as capable as my son is,” Radzig replies, still level, still calm.
“I –” Capon’s voice appears trapped in his throat. He’s thought of it – Radzig stealing Henry away. Radzig is delighted. He has always wondered if he’s the main character in someone’s nightmares. “That is – you can’t –”
“Father, come on now, there’s no need to tease him. He thinks you’re serious,” Henry says, and Radzig stiffens up. Like that damned barking menace of his, Henry has the awful ability to look like a kicked pup at the most inopportune moments.
“He doesn’t need you at all hours, Hal, and if for some reason he does, then you deserve a much-needed break.”
“Henry doesn’t need a break from me!” Capon exclaims.
Hanush chortles over the rim of his goblet, a sudden wave of red splashing over the sides and onto his plate. “Hans, we all need a break from you sometimes. Leave that poor lad alone for five minutes and make a damned heir!”
It’s a harsh statement coming from one’s family, though Radzig truly cannot comprehend how Henry spends so much time with the young lord.
…And perhaps it’s better that he doesn’t.
“Well, I would prefer he didn’t,” Henry says before Capon had the opportunity to feel any sort of way about Hanush’s remark. “Er, leave me alone, that is. I don’t mind spending time with his lordship. He’s just not merely my liege but friend as well, and I don’t appreciate the implication I should feel otherwise.” Sharp blue eyes, narrowly lined with specks of green near the center, a near copy of his own, fall upon him with reproach. “From any of you.”
Despite the mixed feelings Radzig holds about the young Capon’s…attitude, he loathes to admit that he feels a mite admonished for his own rancid mood. Before this mess came about, he thought highly of how Capon seemed to learn and grow from his misadventures, and how Henry and Hans made for an amusing pair.
“Thank you for saying that, dear Henry,” Capon hurries to say, quick to take any heat that may be fired his way. Again , as if Radzig doesn’t allow his son to get away with committing multiple crimes on a regular basis. “You understand there are many threats against me, especially after all that we have gone through together, but perhaps that has slipped the minds of these old men. They do say the mind goes with age.”
“Who are you calling old, boy?!” Hanush snarls.
“There are not so many threats against you that you can’t afford me a few days with my own son,” Radzig sighs over Hanush, praying he doesn’t need to pull rank. Henry will be quite upset with him then, and he would prefer to keep the peace for as long as he can.
Capon lifts a finger. “Actually –”
“Sir Hans.” Henry’s voice cripples the almighty finger of Sir Hans. “While you do have many threats against your person, I believe you will be safe should I go. It’s been a year since Skalitz, almost to the day and I would like to go with my father and pay my respects. It’s only right that we see what can become of the ruins, if anything. Besides,” he says, looking down at the half-chewed bread and nibbled on cheese, “you agreed to spend some much needed…time with Lady Jitka. My presence isn’t needed for that, and neither of you will be straying the castle much, it’s the perfect time for me to leave.”
It’s nothing short of unbelievable to see Capon’s objections wither and die right in front of him. He and Henry seem to be in competition with who can appear the most pitiful, though Radzig will only admit to himself that Henry, no matter the occasion, tends to evoke a reaction out of him.
Capon nods to both Henry and Radzig. “I apologize for being so thoughtless.” Another new habit of Capon’s – owning to one’s errors and missteps. “Of course you would want to pay a visit to Skalitz, I hadn’t realized it’s been so long since we met. Anything you need – men, supplies – they are yours to take.”
“Thank you for the offer,” Radzig says. “We need little in the realm of supplies, we will only be gone a few days, and the men are not needed. I plan for this trip to include only Henry and I.”
Capon’s head snaps up, his blue eyes flashing with immediate concern. “But, sir – the ruins of Skalitz are teeming with bandits! As proficient you and Henry both are with a blade, I’m not sure you can take on dozens of men alone!”
Hanush shifts around uneasily. “I hate to agree with my nephew,” Capon rolls his eyes at his uncle, “but this might be a bit of an unwise gamble, Radzig. Losing one of you to a stray arrow would be bad but both…”
“We’ll be fine. Henry isn’t the only one who’s capable of sneaking around undetected.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir,” Henry replies, his expression cool but his gaze twinkles with the mischief he picked up from his time bouncing between mills.
“Sure you don’t, son.”
Radzig has it on the best of authority – his own – that Henry is the annoying little shadow who used to sneak into his room, steal his books then put them back when he was done with them. Why the boy didn’t just ask to borrow them confounds him to this day. He would have been more than willing to share with Henry, of all people, but it was an amusing enough habit that he let it go without making a fuss. The boy didn’t pilfer any groschen or clothes or anything of remote value that could be sold off to some lowlife, he merely wanted to expand his mind after taking the time and effort to learn how to read.
Now, as for the other items reported to have gone missing throughout Rattay, thefts all of which coincide with Henry’s arrival, he offers no comment on. He can’t be everywhere all at once, can he?
“Well, that’s all settled then,” Hanush grunts, the legs of his chair sliding against the floor in an unpleasant scrape. “Henry and Radzig will go on their little bonding trip, Hans will work harder on making an heir, and I will enjoy watching another tournament. We’re all living life to the fullest!” And with that, he stomps out of the room, a jaunty whistle rolling from his tongue.
“Here, here,” Capon mumbles miserably, while his wife turns another page of her book. She hasn’t looked up once since she had to subtly remind her husband they have to get around to consummating their marriage.
If Hanush was to learn his nephew had yet to do even that …well, Radzig is relieved his stay at Rattay is coming to a permanent close.
“I’ll take my leave as well, I have more letters to send off to Prague than I care to write without the aid of a scribe.” Radzig claps his son on the shoulder as he rises to his feet. “Talk to the stablehand and make sure our horses will be prepared and ready for our trip tomorrow. We can stop in Ledetchko or Sasau to stock up on anything we may forget. Take care of what you have to today and no staying out too late, I want to set out early.”
Henry nods, ever dutiful, ever good, ever a fucking troublemaker. “Of course, Father. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
Yes, Radzig does know where to find Henry –
“Henry,” Capon murmurs, his tone on the verge of spilling into urgency, “I’ll accompany you to the stables, I need a moment of your time.”
– sealed to Hans bloody Capon’s backside.