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Something was amiss in the lands around Rattay.
Hans had spent the last few days stopping by no fewer than ten blacksmiths and armorers within a reasonable ride of the city looking for someone, anyone, who would repair his hunting sword. But each time, he was met with what he could only call distressed deference and insistence that they couldn’t possibly be worthy or skilled enough to work on his arms and armor. At first it had been annoying, but as Hans stepped out of the most recent shop, he simply felt baffled. He had never been denied priority service by any craftsman within his lands, yet now, even Uncle Hanush’s personal smith seemed to be unwilling to take on Hans’ requests, despite being very apologetic about it. Their behavior was so strange, the only conclusion Hans could draw was that something had put the fear of God himself into them.
Something, or someone.
Hans found Henry where he always found Henry, bent over the glowing forge in a corner of the Pirkstein courtyard the half-demon blacksmith had claimed for himself. After their admittedly rocky introduction, Henry had agreed to a contract with Hans and taken to living at least half of each month in Rattay. It took Henry no time to charm everyone, and within a week, he’d had the servants, guards, merchants, and even the bailiff wrapped around his finger. Not that Hans could blame them. Hans himself was just as hopelessly enthralled by those dimly glowing and sultry eyes…
On most days, Hans sought Henry out for nothing more than company, conversation, and maybe a sparring match. Today, he had a different mission.
“Oh, H-Henry…?” He called out, words skipping over his tongue and coming out more like a question than a greeting. Henry was bent over the anvil, tongs gripping a billet in one gloved hand and a hammer arcing down in the other. With each swing, sparks flew from the red-hot metal, scattering into the air before they touched the floor. Or, as it so happened, Henry’s bare skin. Because of course the blacksmith would be working in naught but his hose and thick leather apron, the sweat-slicked curves of his back muscles incredibly…distracting. Coughing a bit and tearing his eyes away to feign interest in some horseshoes hung on the wall, Hans tried again.
“Henry! Do you have a moment?”
A few more blows of the hammer rang out before Henry straightened, setting the billet carefully on the anvil before laying the tongs and hammer aside on a workbench. Pulling his gloves off and tossing them to the side, he reached up to push some hair off his sweaty brow, luminous eyes observing Hans like a cat might a mouse it was still debating whether to eat.
“I might…” he drawled, and Hans immediately felt himself bristle at the tone before a teasing grin slid across the half-demon’s face, “S’pose it’s a good thing I was needing to talk with you anyway.”
“You…” Hans grit out, his outrage doused quicker than it had sparked in the face of the jest. “You’re a menace. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Once or twice,” Henry conceded, words colored with a low chuckle.
And didn’t that just do strange things to Hans’ stomach. “Well, clearly they should be doing it more,” Hans sniffed, completely giving up on pretending to be fascinated by the horseshoes and turning to face Henry fully. “I actually had some questi--”
“Give me a moment,” Henry interrupted, leaving Hans spluttering in disbelief as the blacksmith made his way across the forge to a rack of weapons and armor along one wall. There were only a few pieces, but even from afar, Hans could tell they were excellent examples of the craft. As Hans watched, Henry picked up a sword, a pair of pauldrons, and a chainmail collar, and made his way back to the waiting lord.
“What are you--?”
“Hush,” Henry’s voice was soft and far too close for Hans’ comfort. The lord froze, breath catching as Henry set the sword aside and wordlessly began to fit the chainmail and pauldrons onto Hans. It was all Hans could do to keep the instinctual little sigh from slipping past his lips as Henry's rough fingers brushed against his neck and the hollow of his throat. Then, rather than simply walking around Hans like a normal person, the half-demon leaned in, the better to reach the buckles at the back of the chain collar. Internally, the young lord was screaming, trying desperately not to move his head just an inch forward and press his lips up against the tantalizing juncture of Henry's neck and shoulder.
Then, Henry stepped back just as quickly as he'd descended upon Hans, leaving the lord's mind reeling, completely oblivious to the intense, almost possessive stare of the blacksmith. "H-Henry, what in...?"
"Are you comfortable? No pinching? Nothing too tight or loose?"
"I...What?" Hans had a panicked moment of thinking the half-demon was talking about the hopefully-not-too-obvious tenting in his hose.
Henry smirked. "The armor, sir."
Thankful for something, anything, to keep his mind off of how good the smell of sweat and ash on Henry's skin had been, Hans took a moment to move around. Wheeling his arms and taking a few practice swings with a phantom sword, he grinned. "They're perfect! I can hardly feel them, they're so light. How did you manage that?"
"Trade secret," Henry teased, this time circling around to Hans' back to remove the armor. Hans was not surprised at the little swoop of disappointment he felt at not having the blacksmith practically pressed hip to shoulder against him.
"Fine, keep your secrets, blacksmith!" Hans huffed, crossing his arms petulantly as Henry placed the armor beside the sword he'd set aside earlier.
"I've worked a couple protective spells into the metal. It shouldn't need as much maintenance to keep the rust away and it'll take a much stronger blow than most men can manage to put a dent or scratch on it. I'm actually working on the matching breastplate now and I should have the rest of the set done before I head back to Skalitz." Scooping up the longsword, Henry turned back to Hans, and this time there was no mistaking the heat in his eyes. Gracefully flipping it around, he held it by the blade, pommel towards Hans. "This is what I really wanted to show you."
Hans reached out, distantly noting that his fingers were trembling slightly, and took the sword almost reverently. Immediately, it became clear that this was a true masterwork, the balance impeccable and the blade razor sharp. The grip felt as if it were molded to his hand. Hans stared in awe, taking in the stunning and delicate engravings of a pair of swallows entwined in vines along the fuller. Breathless, Hans said, "Henry, this is stunning."
"Toledo steel, of course. Nothing less for the Lord of Rattay," Henry all but preened, smirk wide and devastating. "The spells in this one will keep the edge sharper for longer and add some additional strength to the steel. You'd really have to work at it to try and break this blade. I'll have the scabbard done before I head off, as well. Wouldn't want to leave my dear liege without proper protection in my absence."
"Proper protection... hang on!" Hans pointed the tip of the blade accusingly at the half-demon who was now clearly feigning innocence. "I was right! You're the one who's been putting the fear of God into every blacksmith from here to Sasau!"
"Fear of the Devil seems more appropriate," Henry mused, not even trying to defend himself.
In utter disbelief at this uppity blacksmith's utter lack of shame, Hans shook the sword for emphasis as he said with fully justified outrage, "You can't just threaten innocent peasants! Particularly my peasants!"
"And I am your blacksmith." This was said with such finality, such assuredness, that Hans didn't know how to respond. Sword arm dropping, Hans backed up as Henry all but stalked towards him, eyes gleaming. When his back met the door to the smithy, Hans took a sharp breath. Henry pressed close, face only inches from Hans' own, and placed one hand on the wood beside Hans' head, effectively trapping the lord. "We made a deal, sir. I will arm you. I will armor you."
"E-Even repairs?" Hans couldn't even summon the shame to feel embarrassed by the near whine in his voice.
Eyes flashing, Henry somehow managed to lean in even closer, but not close enough to close the gap between their lips that Hans was absolutely not incredibly conscious of in that moment. "Even repairs, sir. I take my promises very seriously."
"R-Right. Well, then. Okay." Hans babbled, allowing Henry to gently remove the blade from his grasp as the blacksmith stepped away once more. The young lord could feel his cheeks burning, his heart racing in his chest and breaths a little shallower than normal. What was this man doing to him?
"Was that all, sir?" Henry asked, voice light and completely nonchalant as he slid his gloves back on and moved back towards the anvil he had been working at.
"I, uh...yes? Yes. Yes, that'll be all," Hans spluttered, all but throwing the door open to make his escape. "I'll expect those to be done on time! I won't be said to employ a lazy blacksmith!"
A bright, warm laugh followed Hans back into the courtyard, and it was all the young lord could do to keep from sprinting back to the privacy of his rooms. After all, Henry had given him quite a bit to think about.