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Hans' head spun. His helmet—now lying on the ground next to him—had taken the brunt of the blow, but he couldn't be sure it'd done enough to save him. His thoughts were too scattered and Henry… well, he certainly made it sound like he was dying.
"Hans? Hans. Look at me! Hans!"
The shaking was too much. Hans opened his mouth to try to say something about it, but all that came out was a series of coughs. Fuck, it hurt. At least Henry was here. If he died, he wouldn't be alone.
Hans realized the problem with that line of thinking when Henry's attention suddenly turned away from him.
Right. There were still bandits.
Henry stopping to try and help him was going to get him killed. Hans bit his lip. Why hadn't he just run? Henry could have escaped if he hadn't been slowed down by his useless lord. Of course, Henry would never run. He'd said as much back at Rocktower Pond.
"That'll do," a familiar voice came from over by the bandits. Lord Jaromier—or rather, the man that had been posing as him when Henry and Hans visited Nebakov. The man that Hans had stupidly slept with. Hans hated that it'd been a good experience. It made the betrayal of it sting all that much more. "We'll surely get a nice fat ransom for Lord Capon of Pirkstein."
Was that supposed to be a kindness? A mercy granted because of their history together? Probably not. Money was enough of an excuse to spare him. Hans was sure he hadn't meant anything special to the bandit leader. To Jan, if Hans went with the name the man had requested when they'd been intimate together. Hans tried to prop himself up. Maybe he could at least bargain for Henry's life too if—
"You'll have to take him first," Henry said, rising to his feet and issuing the challenge.
God, damn it.
Why'd Henry have to try and be brave at a time like this? It was going to get him killed. And if Henry died…
Hans would never forgive himself. He wasn't sure he could even survive the loss. Not after Oats and the others.
"My boy, courage is a thing of honor," Jan started, "but what you're proposing isn't courage, it's foolhardiness."
Wait. Was Jan giving Henry a chance to back down? That meant he didn't want to kill him, right? As long as Jan could save face in front of his men, he might be willing to let Henry—
"Better to have honor than to sneak up and ambush people from hiding!"
Hans wanted to strangle Henry for his lack of self-preservation.
"It works though! War is a nasty business. And it is better to have your head on your neck and your foe on his knees than the other way around."
"Why does a coward turn to banditry? You should have been a knacker! You'd still have your head on your neck, and your own seat in the tavern!"
"Shut your stupid mouth!" one of Jan's men piped up. Michael, if Hans recalled correctly. And if that was his real name. Hans didn't know what to believe when it came to this group of bandits. "You've no idea who you're talking to!"
"To a weasel who shoots from the bushes instead of a fair fight!" Henry continued, further egging them on. He was making less and less sense. And the worst part was that Hans couldn't do anything about it. He could barely keep up with the conversation through the fog in his brain.
"You think so, eh?" Jan huffed.
"Why dirty your hands with him, Captain?" Michael asked, "one shot and…"
"I'm actually starting to think this young knight deserves a fair, chivalrous duel." Jan drew Michael's sword and then turned back towards Henry as he announced, "if he's good enough, I'll let him live!"
Even in his addled state, Hans could tell how hard Jan was trying to come up with an excuse to let Henry live. The problem was that Henry wasn't seeing that. Henry was sure to fight to the fullest, putting them both in more danger than necessary. Hans tried his best to reach out towards Henry, but Henry stepped forward to accept the challenge. Hans allowed himself to fall back to the ground. He couldn't stop it, could he? Henry, his faithful and loyal friend, and Jan, the first man Hans had ever properly shared his heart with, were going to fight. There was a good chance one of them might die.
Hans couldn't completely root for Henry. If there could only be one survivor, of course he'd want it to be him, but… complicated feelings about Jan aside, Hans didn't think Jan's men would let Henry live after killing their leader.
Hans' heart sunk as he watched the two of them approach each other. The only thing left to do was pray. So Hans did. He closed his eyes and begged God not to take Henry from him. Or, at the very least, spare him. As much as Hans couldn't bear the thought of being torn from Henry, he'd make the deal if that's what it took to ensure Henry lived.
The sound of steel against steel broke through his thoughts. The two of them traded blows for a while before Henry found his opening. Jan had made the mistake of removing his helmet and it cost him. Henry's blade came up across his eye. Before Henry could follow through with a more leathal blow, however, Jan's men intervened and pulled Henry away from him.
"Enough!" Jan shouted, "damn it, you bastard!" One of his men went to aid him, but Jan shook him off. "You're good."
"Zizka, are you alright?" Michael asked.
Zizka then. That was his real name?
Hans watched as Jan—Zizka—made his way over to Henry, clutching his eye. "So… do you reckon you can trust an outlaw? To keep his word of honor? Hm?"
That was the question, wasn't it? Hans forgot to breathe as Zizka made his final decision.
"We'll take them both," Zizka said. Relief flooded Hans' chest. Henry would be alright. They would both be alright. At least, for now. "Start gathering some of the bodies. I'd like to leave a message for Von Bergow."
From there, him and Henry were taken to Nebakov. Henry was taken to a cell while Zizka had Hans come with him. Henry protested, of course, but Hans had finally recovered enough to push back. He told Henry to wait for him. Henry clearly didn't want to follow the order, but he didn't have much of a choice.
On their way through the fortress, Hans caught sight of a familiar man in black. Istvan Toth. Henry had been right about him being with the bandits all along. That didn't bode well.
Zizka brought Hans to his room in the tower. Well, Lord Jaromier's room. It brought to mind the things they'd done together in that bed. Hans felt himself blush as he tried to dismiss the thoughts. Now was not the time to get caught up in those tainted feelings. A normal person would be angry. And Hans was angry. For Oats and the others. For Henry and himself. But more than anything, he felt the sting of heartache. Zizka had played the hand he'd been dealt and, on some level, Hans couldn't blame him for deceiving him, but he had trusted him so it hurt.
Zizka looked at Hans, a torn expression on his face as if he didn't know what to say. Well, Hans could find words. He was fairly good at that.
"Zizka, is it?" Hans asked quietly.
"Aye," Zizka responded, "Jan Zizka."
Hans blinked. So Jan hadn't given him a false name—even if he had pretended it was one. That felt significant, even if it probably wasn't. Hans couldn't afford to trick himself into thinking he meant something to this man. "What's going to happen Henry?"
"I haven't decided yet. I am a bit irritated about my eye, of course, but I suppose I was asking for it. It'd be wrong to punish him for that."
"Lord Radzig is his father," Hans said quickly. If Henry heard him, he might consider it a betrayal to be so forward with that information, but Hans was hoping it'd be enough to spare Henry's life. "You can get a ransom for him too. But only if you keep him in one piece."
Jan crossed his arms and considered Hans.
"Please," Hans added pathetically.
"You're more worried about him than you are yourself?"
"Yes."
Jan's gaze seemed to soften a little. "Alright. I'll see what I can get for him and, hopefully, we can send you both off together."
Hans let out a relieved sigh. But then he remembered Istvan. He needed to say something. "You need to keep Istvan away from Henry."
"Hm? They know each other?"
"Yes. Lord Istvan has his father's sword."
"Lord Radzig's sword?"
"Uh… Yes, but also no. It's complicated. The sword was made for Lord Radzig by the man who actually raised Henry, but he was killed along with Henry's mother when Sigismund's army raided Skalitz." That was probably too much information, but Hans couldn't stop himself from rambling once he'd started.
"Hold on. If Sigismund is responsible for the death of Henry's parents, why are the two of you helping him?"
"We're not. You are. Aren't you? Because Istvan definitely works for Sigismund."
Jan ran a hand over his mouth as the pieces came together. They'd both been fools.
"It seems I need to have a little talk with Istvan," Jan growled.
Jan had Hans follow him as he led the way outside. Questioning a few of Jan's men quickly revealed that Istvan had gone to the cells where Henry was being held. They arrived just in time to find Istvan in the middle of gloating. That didn't last long, however, since Jan quickly ordered Istvan to be placed in the cell next to Henry's. Before the situation could be resolved, a guard came and told Zizka he was needed at the gate.
Jan turned to Hans and looked him in the eye. "We'll sort this out when I get back. I promise. For now, I need you to wait in the cell with Henry."
Hans nodded and went without a fuss. Henry looked between the two of them, a bewildered expression on his face that Hans pointedly ignored.
"What did you say to him?" Henry asked once Jan had left.
"That Istvan's been working for Sigismund all along," Hans said, relishing the scowl that appeared on Istvan's face. "Jan didn't seem too happy about that."
"Jan?" Istvan laughed, "I didn't realize you two were so close."
Hans felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment.
"But you needn't worry about me," Istvan continued, "people like Zizka know that coin is more important than revenge. You can't pay a band of mercenaries with nice feelings. And waiting for a ransom is only the last resort. I have other prospects that may yet pay off."
Henry lunged at Istvan through the bars, but all Istvan had to do to avoid him was take a step back. The two of them got into their usual bickering while Hans kept an eye on the door, waiting for Jan to come back. He wasn't the one who entered the room first, however.
It was Erik.
"Speaking of prospects," Istvan grinned. "Erik! We're just about to do some gutting!"
"There's no time for it!" Erik said frantically, opening the door to Istvan's cell and handing Istvan a sword—Henry's sword.
"There's always time for this!"
"No," Erik insisted, "we've got to flee now!"
Istvan took Erik more seriously after that. He fled with Erik and the real Lord Jaromier who'd been locked up with them. It was devastating to see them get away, but Hans could be thankful Istvan hadn't gotten his chance to kill them.
When Jan returned, it was with Godwin. After a happy reunion, some explanations, and a disturbing eye cleaning, everyone went their own way to get some rest. More trouble would come their way soon enough, but Hans was grateful to be done with it for now. They'd offered him a bed at the smithy and he was about to take it when an alternative thought came to mind. He headed to the tower instead and stealthily made his way to Jan's room.
Jan was already laying down on the bed, no doubt worn out from Godwin's treatment. He hadn't quite gone to sleep yet though.
"I…" Hans started, unsure how to ask his question without sounding childish.
He didn't need to. Jan scooted over and made space for him. Hans took him up on the invitation and crawled onto the bed, settling comfortably against Jan's chest.
"I should hate you," Hans mumbled into his skin, "for Oats, Tankard, Konrad, and Nicholas."
"Those are the men we killed?" Jan asked.
"Yes."
Zizka nodded. "It was a mistake, but I know how little solace saying that actually offers. I do regret it though. As much as I still can. War has made me colder than I used to be. I don't torture myself for every bad decision these days."
Hans thought that over. Was that an acceptable justice? Zizka feeling a little bad in exchange for the death of his friends?
No. It wasn't.
But Hans wasn't who he was at the start of the journey. In a case like this, past Hans would have demanded an eye for an eye, blood for blood. His idea of justice was much more straightforward. That Hans didn't exist anymore. He'd been replaced by someone who'd been forced to realize things weren't as black and white as his stories had led him to believe.
"Henry and I burned Semine," Hans quietly confessed, "I… I never would have imagined myself doing something like that ever—even if it was to save Lord Semine and the others. And it could have been so much worse. If Henry hadn't been there… I think I would have just gone along with it. I would have let that massacre happen without putting up a fight. And I would have known the whole time that it wasn't the right thing to do, but… " Hans bit his lip, his voice growing shakier. "I was scared. Of what would happen to me, of what would happen to Henry. I would have traded their lives for our safety. At Rocktower pond too. Henry was the one who saved that woman. I would've let..."
Zizka wrapped an arm around Hans and pulled him a little closer. He shouldn't be doing this, lying here and taking comfort in the arms of a man that'd taken so much from him. But Zizka understood. At least, Hans thought he did.
"I've said it before. Courage is a fine thing, but there is a line between bravery and foolishness. Prioritizing your survival isn't wrong. It's how you live to fight another day."
"It's not very honorable though."
"No, it isn't." Jan left it that. He didn't need to explain any further for Hans to understand that it was a complicated situation—like everything else these days. How had he lived for so long with such a simplistic viewpoint? No wonder Hanush never thought he was ready to inherit Rattay. Hans wasn't sure he liked the way he'd changed since he left home, but it felt necessary. And it wasn't all bad. Underneath all his posturing, he'd found something in him he could be a little proud of.
Understanding. Kindness. Maybe mercy.
Honor may be a fictional ideal, but that didn't mean Hans had to completely discard it. He didn't have to bind himself to it either. He could let go. Oats and the others' deaths would go unavenged and he'd have to live with that, but the alternative was punishing someone who'd made a grave mistake. Seeing further justice wouldn't accomplish a thing. It'd only create more ill will and the world already had enough of that.
"Well?" Jan asked after a while, "can you forgive me?"
Hans shifted himself to get a better look at Jan's face. He placed a hand on the man's cheek and then slowly moved it up toward the bandage that currently covered his injured eye. "I don't know if forgiveness is really mine to give here," Hans said, "but let's say Henry has already seen to your punishment and leave it at that. I'm tired and I don't want to hate you anyway."
"Then I can put it behind me too."
Hans settled against Jan's chest once more and closed his eyes, a strange peace overcoming him as he let go of his grudge and listened to Jan's breathing. Jan carded a hand through his hair. There was a sense of hesitation from him, as if there was a question on his mind he was afraid to ask. Hans thought he knew what it was. He had the same question.
What now? Were they really allowed to stay like this? Together, with some unspoken feelings between them?
Hans didn't want to think about the future just yet. For now, this—lying in Jan's arms—was enough. It was a good end to a bad day.