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Hans slowly sits at one of the tavern’s outdoor tables. Every part of his body screams to collapse. His back aches, and his legs feel like they’ve been set ablaze. Not to mention the shit that’s seeping into these rags he had been given to wear. No wonder they hadn’t taken him seriously. He looks like a beggar who’s been sleeping on the side of every road from here to Prague! Henry sits across from him. He’s sits rigidly, on edge, always prepared. He’s been that way for as long as Hans had known him. Had Henry always been so diligent or was that another consequence of Skalitz?
What does it matter? He’s now a page, and bodyguard. They’re supposed to be diligent, and ready for any danger or attack. They’re not supposed to let their guards down. Not like they all had at the lake.
Hans lays his head on top of his folded arms, on top of the table.
They should all be here, celebrating a mission well done. Oats finally having a drink and getting ready to share another war story about him and Uncle Hanush’s battles. Konrad arguing with Tankard before getting roped into another game of dice. Maybe tonight would have been the night that they got Nicholas to share more of his mysterious past. Could have been.
It could have been.
Hans turns his head so his eyes can find Henry. He’s frowning as he waves down someone. Henry’s been frowning ever since Hans woke up. There have been a few moments where his lips twisted up in a freeing smile. They have been consistently followed by a shadow passing through Henry’s blue eyes, and a grim expression that washed away such brief moments of levity. The same thing always happened when Lord Radzig was near by, or when Henry’s thoughts went back to Skalitz, or Istvan Toth, or so many other moments that brought him low.
Shit!
One stupid fucking choice, and it has wrought so much grief.
And still Henry offered him a hand and helped him up. Even when covered in shit. Even though he had been half mad mere days ago. As soon as his friend could move again, he returned to taking care of Hans.
Finally he had a chance to save Henry and immediately Henry follows it up by saving his life, again. Of course he did. A right, dashing hero that’s what he is.
So why hadn’t he saved everyone?
With a groan, Hans rolls his forehead back along his arm. His nose presses into the sticky, disgusting wood of the table.
That was a bitter, unfair thought.
Henry had tried to save that wench. He wanted to protect her because he wants to protect everyone, like a knight in ancient stories. Real knights are hardly so heroic nowadays. Henry was reliable in that way. Which ended in him getting an arrow lodged in his shoulder.
If Hans hadn’t held him back when their men were attacked, he has no doubt that Henry would have charged up there, in his underwear, and died fighting off bandits with nothing but his bare hands.
Henry is alive because of Hans’ decision, and the others are all dead.
All because of his choices.
“Hans?” Henry rests a hand ontop of his arms, just out of reach of his head.
The noble lifts himself up. He might as well be trapped in a swamp of shit, but Hanush’s voice rings clear. A noble knows how to hold his head up.
“What’s wrong?”
What’s not!
Before Hans can remember anymore of Hanush’s lessons he’s off like a horse at a race. His mouth runs like a overflowing stream. How had Henry ever managed to keep anything to himself, when just one bad day was enough to set Hans off. There may never come a day where he doesn’t rant and rave about those fucking bandits!
Of course as soon as Henry can get a word in, he’s trying to cheer Hans up.
Henry, bless him, is so quick to make excuses for his lord. It’s too easy, his forgiveness. He gives it out too willingly. Hans knows Henry can not forgive everything this easily. He’s still as determined as ever to hunt down Istvan Toth. So much so that his page sees the man everywhere. Probably even in his nightmares.
It would be so much better if Henry was angry. Not as angry with him as he is with Istvan, but something, anything more than he is right now. Henry should be furious! He should blame him! After all this is his fault, and if Henry was angry with him then it would be so much easier to be mad at Henry for playing hero.
Then they can both be blamed, but henry doesn't play blame games.
And it’s infuriating.