Chapter Text
Pretending to be Bartosch was actually easy. All Henry had to do was train in swordsmanship under Bartosch’s guidance and occasionally exchange a few pleasantries with people around the castle. As for Hans, Bartosch said he didn’t spend much time with him anyway, so the two of them managed to play each other’s roles without much trouble.
Henry had grown used to seeing his own face around the castle. What he still wasn’t used to were the days when he couldn’t get close to Hans. Even when he sometimes caught sight of Hans in the distance, he had no reason to speak to him—after all, he was Bartosch now.
Aside from swordsmanship and magic, Henry and Bartosch didn’t have much else to talk about. So after their training, they would pass the time by playing dice together.
It was another dull evening. Henry and Bartosch sat facing each other, rolling dice. Henry stared at the dice on the table, thinking about how to keep his winning streak going, when out of the corner of his eye he suddenly caught sight of someone—Hans had just sat down beside Bartosch.
Henry hadn’t expected Hans to show up here. He forced down a smile and greeted him in as calm a tone as he could manage. He wanted desperately to ask how Hans had been lately, but he reminded himself that he was Bartosch, not Henry, so he kept quiet, proud of his self-control.
“Am I interrupting something?” Hans asked.
“Of course not! We just finished,” Henry blurted out, ignoring the puzzled look Bartosch shot him.
Hans looked him over, and Henry kept his expression carefully neutral.
Then Hans leaned forward slightly, wearing the practiced smile he often used with nobles. “Henry told me you two have been training together a lot lately.”
“Yes, my lord,” Henry said. “And we’ve been getting along very well, learning a lot from each other.” Not bad at all, I’m playing this role perfectly, he thought.
“Well then, Sir Bartosch, tell me about yourself,” Hans said, fixing his gaze on Henry. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”
“Um…” Henry forced himself to stay calm. “I serve Lord von Bergow…” What else could he say? Suddenly, he remembered Bartosch’s magic and confidently added, “I like reading. All kinds of books.”
“I heard from the servants that you studied at a university. Which one was it?”
Henry froze. “Uh… I… I…” Bartosch went to a university? He instinctively glanced at Bartosch.
“He studied at the University of Prague,” Bartosch said.
Hans glanced at Bartosch, then looked back at Henry. “And you did not continue your studies?”
“Uh… well…” Henry gave Bartosz a pleading look.
“He didn’t continue for financial reasons,” Bartosch explained.
“You know him pretty well,” Hans said to Bartosch.
“We actually became friends,” Henry hurried to add, covering for Bartosch. “We've been talking a lot lately.”
“I didn’t expect him to make new friends so quickly,” Hans said. “So… what do you think of Henry?”
“Henry is a very good lad,” Henry answered almost immediately—finally, a question he could answer. “He is diligent and learns quickly.” Perhaps it had been too long since he’d spoken with Hans; he suddenly had so much he wanted to say. “He is easy to get along with, and a very trustworthy, reliable lad.” Bartosch gave him a subtle kick under the table, but Henry ignored it. “My lord, it must be a blessing to have such an excellent squire by your side.”
“Indeed,” Hans said, though his expression was dark, showing no hint of pride or satisfaction.
Then Hans turned his gaze to Bartosch beside him. Henry followed his look.
Under their combined gaze, Bartosch awkwardly muttered, “Sir Bartosch is also very competent.”
Hans’s face darkened even further.
“Henry, fetch me something to drink,” Hans said.
Henry remembered his role, so he did not move. Only after Bartosch got up and left did he realize he had forgotten to remind him that red wine was Hans’s favorite.
“Sir Bartosch, I have heard rumors about you,” Hans said once Bartosch was gone.
Rumors? Rumors about Bartosch? Could they be related to magic? Though confused, Henry kept his expression neutral.
“You know what I mean,” Hans lowered his voice. “I advise you to stay away from Henry. He's not interested in you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean… We’re only practicing together…” Magic? Was Hans talking about magic? Did he know?
“Don't play dumb,” Hans said. “Henry and I will be leaving here soon, so you’re only wasting your time.”
“I truly don’t know what you’re talking about…” Should he play along? But how could he agree to something he didn’t even comprehend? That wouldn’t be fair to Bartosch either.
“Oh? Really?” Hans fixed him with a vicious stare. “So you're not interested in men?”
“What?” Henry’s eyes widened.
“I don't care if you like men or women, or what games you're playing,” Hans warned him. “Stay away from Henry.”
Bartosch likes men?
If that were true, how could Bartosch never have told him? And now here he was, right beside Hans, pretending to be Henry! Hans was a charming man. What if Bartosch took an interest in this new face? He could easily pretend to be Henry and make advances toward Hans… He had too many chances to take advantage of him, to get close, to linger at his side, even to praise himself endlessly and leave Hans with a favorable impression of Bartosch.
Henry’s chest tightened.
He didn’t know what expression he was showing at that moment, but it was clear that, for the first time, a genuine smile appeared in Hans’s eyes.
Bartosch returned, carrying several bottles of different kinds of drinks.
Faced with Hans’s puzzled look, Bartosch explained that he simply thought that with more people, more was needed.
“Let’s drink somewhere else,” Hans said, his tone betraying his joy.
Henry instinctively began to rise to follow, but then he remembered his current identity and reluctantly sat back down. Bartosch’s eyes were filled with confusion, as if he didn’t understand why they suddenly had to change the drinking location. His gaze drifted among the bottles on the table, silently asking Henry which one to take.
Yet Henry remained seated, his face expressionless.
As Hans walked further away, Bartosch had no choice but to grab a bottle of mead and hurriedly followed him.
Henry knew that they were going to Hans’s room to drink. In the past, when Hans had free time, he often drank there with him.
Perhaps Bartosch wouldn’t linger outside the guest’s door, but Henry would.
The door to Hans’s room was firmly closed. If they hadn’t swapped bodies, he could simply walk in now.
Henry wandered absentmindedly in the corridor. He always felt that time passed quickly when drinking with Hans, so why had they been inside for so long?
Finally, the door opened, and Bartosch stepped out of the room.
Henry waited until Bartosch turned into the shadowed stretch of the corridor, then quickened his pace, catching up and stopping him.
“We need to talk.” Henry stared at Bartosch—a face that showed only confusion. “You’re not drunk, are you?”
“Of course not,” Bartosch said. “Given the circumstances.” He paused. “Your room?”
Henry nodded. Neither of them spoke again as they moved briskly down the corridor. Before long, they reached Henry’s room.
Unlike Bartosch’s room—which remained bright and comfortable even when shared with two other knights—Henry’s room was small and dim. Scrap metal left by the blacksmith piled in the corner, and aside from a bed that could never compare to Bartosch’s, there was scarcely any decent furniture.
Bartosch had already seated himself on the bed, looking perfectly at ease.
Meeting the questioning look in his eyes, Henry took a deep breath and asked as calmly as he could, “What were you two talking about just now?”
“He said quite a lot,” Bartosch replied. “Things like, ‘Henry, you spend too little time with me,’ ‘I want to return home sooner,’ and ‘Stay away from Bartosch, he isn’t quite normal.’” He shrugged. “I just nodded along the whole time. So you really have nothing to worry about.”
“You didn’t do anything inappropriate, did you?”
“Other than listening to him ramble on, what could I possibly have done?” Bartosch frowned. “I told you, everything is fine.”
“I swore an oath to protect Sir Hans. I must keep him safe from danger.” Henry fixed him with a steady gaze.
“He’s perfectly safe. What danger could there be for him in this castle—” Bartosch’s words cut off abruptly, his face slowly clouding with disbelief. “The danger you mean… is me? For God’s sake, what could I possibly do to him?”
“I don’t know,” Henry said, his voice rising despite himself. “Take his hand? Pull him into your arms? Or kiss him in his bed?”
Even in the dim candlelight, Henry could see the color drain from Bartosch’s face. He was no longer relaxed; his whole body had gone stiff with tension. Yet he did not deny it.
“So… the rumors are true. You’re interested in men,” Henry stated.
“Considering that you’re helping me, I won’t lie to you,” Bartosch replied stiffly. “But I give you my word, it changes nothing. I won’t use your body to get close to men, if that’s what you fear. Nor will I do anything intimate with Sir Hans that might arouse his suspicion.
“But you could easily take the opportunity to tell him how wonderful Sir Bartosch is, using his trust in me to draw him closer to you!”
“Look, Henry, I’m glad to know you have such a vivid imagination,” Bartosch took a deep breath. “But liking men doesn’t mean I’m interested in him! And he doesn’t like me! If you’d been there drinking tonight, you’d know how much he dislikes me. And I barely spoke to him at all. How could I fall for someone who hated me from the moment we met?”
Perhaps Bartosch really thought so, but the mere image of Bartosch and Hans together made Henry’s chest tighten with irritation. Maybe he should tell Hans the truth. But if Hans sought confirmation from Bartosch, and Bartosch denied the body swap thing to avoid being branded a witch, would Hans still believe him?
And if Bartosch did admit to magic, then Henry would have to explain the lockpicking… A poaching nobleman and his lockpicking squire seeking alliance (even both Hans and he had reasonable explanations) probably wouldn't make ideal allies for Lord von Bergow.
Perhaps the wisest course was to keep covering for each other until the magic wore off.
“Stay away from him,” Henry finally said.
“It’s not as if I want to be near him,” Bartosch replied.“I can try to find excuses to avoid him. But as his squire, I can’t hide from him forever.”
Henry hated how reasonable that sounded.
“Fine,” he said. “Then whenever you’re with him, I’ll be there too.”
“But he doesn’t like me,” Bartosch said. “I mean—he doesn’t like Bartosch at his side. I think—”
“I must protect my lord. I can’t let him out of my sight.”
“Fine,” Bartosch sighed. “You still don’t trust me.”
“I’m only doing my duty.” Henry absolutely could not allow Bartosch to take advantage of Hans.