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"You've definitely gone mad, Matthew," Henry threw up his hands. "Robbing people? Do you want to get yourselves killed?"
"Robbing bandits," his friend corrected him with a raised finger and a smirk.
"Makes no difference to me. Either an armed bandit skewers you before you even get to see him, or Sir Hanush will have you swing from the gallows if he finds out you're ambushing honest people."
Matthew gritted his teeth. He'd heard just about enough of this righteous talk, and what stung even more was that it wasn't even coming from a parish priest, but a friend. "Look, Henry, you are fucking lucky Sir Radzig has accepted you into his service. And that even the Rattay captain has trained you personally. Others weren't so lucky, you know? We tried to get by doing regular work, and look how we ended up. We've got nothing." He stepped closer, laid the tip of his finger on Henry’s dirty cuirass and continued in a hushed, yet still irritated tone, "Fritz and I only have each other, and you can bet your ass I will do whatever’s in my power to keep us both afloat. Whether you help us or not."
Henry hung his head and exhaled in resignation. "What else am I supposed to do? I’m not going to let you end up on the wrong end of a sword just because of some stupid beginner’s mistake." He peered at Matthew with an empty expression. "So what’s your plan?"
The dark, cold cellar beneath the Inn in the Glade shielded their untoward schemes from the unsuspecting guests up on the surface. Fritz, Matthew and Andrew all patiently waited for Henry to present his hard-earned gear, especially after him priding himself on it the moment he set foot in the tavern. Amid the steel clanking and chainmail ringing leaking from behind the closed door, a curse slipped out here and there as Henry struggled to get into the oddly shaped foreign armor.
"Need some help?" Andrew leaned toward the door, only for it to swing open right away. In it stood Henry, victorious, clad in his dead enemies’ latest fashion.
"So? Pretty good, ey?" He slowly turned in the doorway to present it from all angles. Although his delighted expression withered when he saw the stony faces of his friends.
"It’s… eh…" Andrew struggled to find the correct word.
"It’s Cuman armor. From Cumans," Henry rushed to finish his sentence.
"Well, I was just hoping for something more…" Matthew’s soured expression depicted exactly what was going on inside his mind. He had imagined an armor that would strike terror into anyone who would lay their eyes on it, making them toss their Groschen on the ground and disappear in a cloud of dust. If they were to rob people wearing this, they would still have to do all the hard work themselves. His temptation to see this plan through quickly started to wane.
"... monstrous," Fritz chimed in.
Matthew’s furrowed eyebrows grew some healthy distance again as a new idea was being born behind them. He sized Fritz up with a mischievous spark in his eye and presented a knowing smile. "He is right. This is too ordinary. We’d be a laughing stock in this."
"You shitting me?" Henry retorted. "I killed real fucking Cumans for all this."
"And are you sure you took everything?" Fritz stood by Matthew. "Everybody knows Cumans are terrifying. Inhumane-looking beasts. They’re barbaric pagans."
"I agree," Andrew nodded along expertly. "I know people who have faced Cumans and lived to tell the tale. One of them is a regular here, I believe I’ve seen him today as well. You can go ask him yourself."
Dumbfounded, Henry gaped at the three of them, scrambling for anything to say, only to end up shutting his mouth again. Instead he just shook his head, mumbled something to himself under his breath and turned to go take it all off again. The door slammed behind him with force.
Days had passed since Henry last showed his face at the inn, and Matthew and Fritz had already begun brainstorming new ways of securing any coin at all. A sound of hoofbeats storming in cut into their conversation. The rider stopped the horse in the open right after the gate, letting the old mare go find the water trough herself, and hopped off, grasping a large misshapen sack. He immediately marched toward Matthew's and Fritz's table.
Before either of them even got a chance to greet their friend, Henry drew a line between the two and grumbled tersely, "I’ve got fucking everything you two requested. And don’t even dare ask to change a single thing, or I’m done with both of you." The two sat up straight and put on innocent faces, just as being scolded by a strict parent had trained them as kids, and didn’t let out a peep.
"And you," Henry then pointed at Andrew, who had been leaning against the beam and eavesdropping on the duo’s new half-witted ideas for the past half an hour, "are going to help me put it on. There’s so much dumb shit I can’t even count." Not waiting for a response, he entered the tavern and made straight for the cellar door. Andrew exchanged looks with the two and stretched his face in a mocking grimace, but then obeyed and followed Henry in. Matthew and Fritz glimpsed at each other with a smirk and got up as well.
Upon descending the stairs into the cellar, two muffled voices were already arguing over what goes where and why behind the closed door of the small room in the back. Matthew sat down on a chest to wait for them to sort it out while his eyes were unashamedly tracing Fritz, who had already started mindlessly scratching something into a dusty barrel with a broken lockpick.
When Fritz noticed the intent stare, a smile poured on his face as his gaze brushed against his beloved. Their silent communication didn’t evolve beyond the gentle looks, as the door on the other side could fly open at any moment. After a few meaningful glances, Fritz lowered his head again and returned to scraping into the wood with the sturdy wire. The brown eyes on the other side began roaming around the cellar counting cobwebs but occasionally turned back to Fritz here and there.
After a while, without a warning, the door creaked open.
Matthew jolted first at the sudden appearance in the doorway and leapt to his feet, all wobbly before finding balance again. The lockpick in Fritz’s hand slipped out in shock, and his poorly-made engraving of Matthew’s face on the side of the barrel was left without a nose.
"Whoa," Matthew huffed at the sight in awe, mouth agape and eyes twinkling with thrill. "That's good." He couldn't tear his eyes away from the delightful spectacle before him. The orange glow emitting from the wall-mounted torch added to the eeriness.
Henry stood there, looking much taller now thanks to the majestic crown sitting atop his head, made of a deer skull with a pair of antlers sprouting out of it. His face was obscured by the skull’s shadow and a dark hood underneath it with a leather mask leaving only a slit for his eyes. The hood’s shoulders were covered with dark feathers, making them seem broader, and a necklace of small animal bones and fangs dangled around his neck. A Cuman harness, now worn over a thick, scrappy tunic, was embellished with even more various bones around the metal circle holding it all together. A simple belt held animal skins wrapped into a crude skirt around Henry’s hips. The dark pants and boots from the original set of armor were peeking out from underneath the furs. Andrew’s bald head behind him was reddening with desperately held back laughter, but the awestruck pair paid him no mind.
"Incredibly good," Fritz nodded, taking in the finished artwork. "Now that’s what those fucking monsters look like."
"Are you sure you two just didn’t get too carried away coming up with this?" Henry put his hands on his hips, rattling the bones hanging on him like wind chimes.
"What are you talking about? This is perfect!" Matthew’s unmatched enthusiasm poured out of him as his hands gestured at the wonderful beast. Once he reined in his elation, he addressed the leshy-looking fellow, "You’ve done us a great service, Henry, truly. Thank you. We’ll take it from here."
"You two fuckers owe me, though," Henry pointed between them.
"Of course," Matthew’s voice flew up an octave, stating the obvious. "Once we get our hands on some Groschen, you’ll get your fair share, as always."
"Fine," antlers nodded and their wearer rolled his eyes, even though nobody could see them. That might as well mean never in Matthew’s and Fritz’s lingo. Henry then turned around to get changed, only to bump into Andrew still behind him, who now finally burst out laughing once he got to see him from the front again.
"The fuck you laughing at?!"
"Nothing, nothing! This is genius!" he howled, grabbed his belly and rocked back and forth in maniacal laughter.
The other two let them be and aimed for the door.
"Matthew?" Fritz stopped him on the stairs out of the cellar. "We got the disguise, but what are we going to do with it now? You never told me the rest of your plan."
Matthew turned to face Fritz, that mischievous smile from earlier making an appearance again. He leaned closer, so that only he would hear his breathy whisper. "Wear this for me tonight, hm? Just leave the armor." He winked and patted Fritz’s cheek for good measure, then grabbed the door handle and walked out.
Fritz froze mid-movement, his jaw dropped and eyes widened as he stared at Matthew’s back disappearing in the tavern.
"Hey, what’d he say?" Andrew called from across the cellar, noticing Fritz standing below the stairs like a statue, staring toward the door, barely breathing.
Fritz, eyes still wide open, jerked his head in the innkeeper’s direction and swallowed. "Uh. That we’ll keep it. To make a copy. Of it." He hastily nodded and ran up the stairs into the tavern.
Andrew arched an eyebrow, mouth twisting in a silent question. "These two are so weird sometimes," he put his fists on his hips and shook his head.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Henry scoffed. "Now please help me get out of this crap."