Chapter Text
The meadow settled once more into its gentle silence. A warm breeze stirred the long grass between them, carrying with it the sweet scent of clover and the distant murmur of the river below. In the background, the branches of the old oak whispered softly amongst themselves. It was a peaceful sort of quiet, the kind that asked nothing of either man, content simply to exist between them.
Henry lowered himself into the grass beside Hans, stretching out his legs with a weary sigh. The earth was still warm from the afternoon sun, its warmth seeping comfortably through his travel clothes. For a while he simply looked out across the rolling hills beyond Rattay, watching the wind chase silver waves through the meadow. Months ago they had ridden through these very fields with swords drawn and hearts pounding, laughing as they practiced with eachother. Now there was nothing to outrun, no orders to obey, no enemy waiting beyond the next rise - well, perhaps a bandit or two. The stillness felt unfamiliar, yet strangely welcome.
From the corner of his eye, Henry caught sight of Hans lying back once more, one hand folded behind his head as though the burdens of lordship had never existed. It was only upon closer inspection that the illusion began to falter. The typical easy smile remained, as well as the careless confidence Henry remembered so well, but the months had left quieter marks upon him. There was a faint weariness about his eyes, and something thoughtful in the way his gaze lingered upon the drifting clouds. Henry could not have said precisely what had changed. Only that the friend beside him seemed weighed down with a heavy burden, though no less himself.
The meadow had no need for a conversation. The pleasant breeze brushed past them, pushing their hair back against their forehead, stirring the long grass in slow, rolling waves, while somewhere beyond the hill a hare peacefully hopped across the terrain.
Hans absentmindedly plucked at a blade of grass, turning it between his fingers before holding it up against the sun.
“You know,” he said eventually, “I had almost forgotten how dreadfully quiet you can be.”
Henry snapped out of his trance, glancing towards Hans with a small huff of laughter.
“I’ll leave the talking to the professional.”
“A wise decision.” Hans replied in a playfully serious tone. He flicked the blade of grass aside.
“I’ve had no one worth arguing with these past months since I was permitted to return to Rattay. Everyone here either agrees with me or apologises before they’ve even finished speaking. It’s exhausting.”
In response, Henry snorted. “I can’t imagine why.”
At which, Hans peered over with a glare. “You wound me.”
“I’ve only just arrived.”
“And you’ve only just stabbed me through the heart!” He cried out exaggeratedly, warranting a shove in the shoulder by Henry.
Henry laughed properly this time, shaking his head as he leaned back into the grass again. The sound felt strange here — too easy, too honest for a world that had demanded so much from them before.
For a while, neither of them spoke again. The silence was filled by the sound of a cow mooing in the far distance towards Rattay.
Hans broke the silence first, quieter this time.
“So… your forge.”
Henry glanced over.
“What about it?”
“Is it true you’ve become respectable?” Hans asked with a small grin forming on his face.
He groaned in response. “I’ve always been respectable.”
Hans raised an eyebrow. “When I first met you, you were a small feeble boy who had nothing but a crappy sword and peasant clothes.”
“Who’s wounding who now?!”
“Oh, tell me I’m wrong Hal.”
Henry shook his head, smiling despite himself at the use of that old nickname.
“Im a blacksmith, that’s all.”
“Blacksmith.” Hans echoed, as though testing the word. “Not wandering knight. Not war hero. Just… Henry and his hammer.”
“Aye.”
Hans nodded slowly, then turned his attention back to the sky.
“Sounds peaceful.”
Henry didn’t answer immediately. It was peaceful. Too peaceful, sometimes, in a way that left space for thoughts he used to outrun.
After a moment, he said, quieter, “And you? Rattay treating you kindly?”
A faint exhale.
“As kindly as a stone tied to your neck and told to swim,” Hans said. “Everyone wishes to speak to me. No one wishes to listen. Every day I’m forced to sit through stacks and stacks of paperwork.”
Henry snorted. “Being so respected doesn’t sound so bad.”
Hans scoffed.
“I’m young. I have better ways to spend my days.”
Henry nodded, rolling his head to the side as he focused on a bird of prey soaring through the sky.
Then, after a pause, Hans added - almost offhandedly:
“I sort of miss when I was in Troskowitz and people would just call me an idiot to my face.”
He turned slightly towards him. “If it helps, you still are one.”
Hans rolled his eyes, smiling. “Comforting.”
A distant shout carried faintly from beyond the walls of Rattay.
Hans signed through his nose. Of course. He didn’t move at first, just stared up at the sky a moment longer, as if willing it to ignore him.
Then, reluctantly, he pushed himself upright and began brushing the grass from his sleeves.
“I suppose my brief escape has been noticed,” he huffed.
Henry frowned slightly. “Escape?”
Hans gave him an incredulous look. “You didn’t think I simply strolled out of Rattay unaccompanied, did you?”
Henry glanced toward the road beyond the meadow. “You snuck out.”
“Well, not—“
Another shout, closer this time. Voices. Armoured boots steadily approaching.
Hans rolled his eyes.
“They behave as though I am made of glass now. A particularly important piece of glass that must be escorted everywhere lest it shatter upon contact with fresh air.”
Henry stood as well, brushing dust from his hands. “That sounds… suffocating.”
“It is truly unbearable.” Hans corrected, then softened slightly as he looks back at him. “But apparently necessary. My steward believes I am one poorly timed duel away from becoming a political inconvenience.”
A breath, then a hesitant chuckle. “He’s not entirely wrong.”
Henry studied him.
“So you came out here without telling them.”
Hans straightened his coat with exaggerated dignity.
“Nope.”
Hans stepped back toward the edge of the trees, already half-turning toward the distant noise. “I cannot be gone long,” he said, more casually now. “They’ll worry I’ve been assassinated, then I shall receive a long lecture.”
Henry nodded once. “I understand.”
Hans hesitated, then added:
“How long will you stay in Rattay?”
Henry didn’t answer immediately.
“…A while,” he said at last.
That seemed to satisfy him. With one last glance, Hans turned and began walking away.
Henry bit his lip and shouted out, “it’s good to see you again!”
———————————————————————————————
Hans adjusted his cloak before he even reached the gates.
It was subtle at first - the straightening of his shoulders, the quietening of his steps . The meadow version of him, the one who lay in the grass and complained about paperwork, began to recede as the castle drew nearer.
By the time he passed through, he had already changed.
A knight waited not far ahead.
One of his men.
Hans saw him at the same moment the man noticed them.
The guard straightened immediately, hand going to his chest in a hurried bow.
“My lord! We- we were searching for-“
“I am aware,” Hans cut in smoothly.
His voice had changed
Still Hans, but sharpened now. Measured. Public.
The guard hesitated, eyes flicking nervously between him and the direction of the meadow.
Hans sighed.
“I required air. You will find I am still capable of breathing it without supervision.”
The man looked as though he was not entirely reassured by this information.
Hans continued walking.
The guard fell into step behind him immediately, relief and panic mingling poorly on his face. “I must inform Hanush-“
“No,” Hans said simply. “If you inform Hanush of anything I will personally ensure your next assignment involves counting grain sacks in order of size.”
The guard went very still. “Yes, my lord.”
Hans nodded once, satisfied and continued on.
“I trust,” he said lightly as they passed under the archway, “that no one has declared me missing again.”
“No, my lord.” Came a quick reply from one of the guards.
“Good,” Hans said.
Inside the courtyard, the weight of the castle settled fully back onto him. Noise, movement, an atmosphere of responsibility for young Capon. A steward hurried over the moment he appeared.
“Lord Capon, there are matters requiring your attention. The mill dispute-“
Hans raised a hand. “Has anyone died?”
The steward blinked.
“No, my lord.”
“Then it is not an emergency.”
The steward opened his mouth as Hans continued walking.
The steward soon called out. “…the council has also requested your presence regarding the upcoming arrangements.”
That made him stop. “I see. Tell them I will arrive shortly.” He spoke, with tension in his tone.