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English
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Published:
2020-04-10
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2020-04-12
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4,627
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2/2
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No Statue for You

Summary:

Henry is held at Vranik, dying. Zbyshek wants the ransom money and goes to Rattay on his own. Hans decides that the only friend he hasn't managed to scare off deserves a dramatic rescue. Bad thing he has no idea how to do that.

Spoilers for the Vranik mission.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Knight in Shining Armor

Chapter Text

Stupid son of a bitch. Henry always was one, if anybody asked Zbyshek. But nobody asked Zbyshek about anything. Are you ready to die for this purpose, for Sigismund, for a man who had burned your home to the ground? nobody asked. Zbyshek was tired, hungry, broke and so, so angry. He had overheard Toth and Eric talking – about Henry being Kobyla’s son. If that was his sign to get the fuck out of this stupid situation and this shit camp, Zbyshek wasn’t going to ignore that.

Except that he would have to. That idiot didn’t want his help. He sure as hell needed it, but after telling him he could release him, Henry just told him to fuck off. And Zbyshek wanted to. He wanted to see that bastard die. He never knew what it was like to have a son or a loving father. But he knew Theresa’s father would have died for his children, and he knew Martin would have done the same. He had seen the way some parents looked at their children, and he didn’t really get it, but he knew that Radzig wouldn’t be different. If Toth was right about him, he cared a great deal. And that could earn him some money. Enough to leave this dump and start a new life somewhere. Maybe even in Prague.

He decided to try again.

He failed again.

Stupid prick.

He took his bag and sneaked out of the camp. It was a matter of a few seconds. That was always the first thing he ever did after getting into someplace that had guards and gates – look for a getaway. He could get out of here with his eyes closed and not a single guard would have noticed.

It took him all night to get to Rattay and he almost broke his neck on the way down the hill their camp was on. When he got to the gates of the town, the guards looked him over with suspicion. He had to look like shit. He gave them a sob story about being holed up in the silver mines in Skalitz until now and their eyes softened. Some people were unbelievable but Zbyshek wasn’t one to complain about that. It only ever worked in his favor.

Getting into the castle turned out to be a bigger challenge. He tried to get some servants to stop and deliver a message but they all just shooed him away, being too busy for a farming boy. He gritted his teeth and hoped that Sigismund’s army would come here as well.

“Wrong castle, boy,” one of the Skalitz guards told him. “Hanush of Leipa lives in the Upper Castle. He is the regent of this town.”

“I would like to talk to Sir Radzig Kobyla,” he bowed and put a small tremble into his voice. “I wanted to inform him on… the situation back in Skalitz. I’ve lived there for weeks and many people have died. But some are still alive and I want to ask him for help. They are too afraid to leave on their own.” Again, it worked. The guard draped an arm over his shoulders, looking him over with concern. He seemed vaguely familiar to Zbyshek but he never really cared enough to remember the guards’ names.

“I understand, my friend,” the soldier said, nodding, squeezing the younger man’s shoulders. “Then you’ll have to wait a bit anyway. Sir Radzig should come back here soon enough. He couldn’t sleep so he went up the town, I expect him to come back in an hour or so. He sometimes does that. In the meantime you should get to the kitchen, I’ll tell the cook you need to get some food into you, what do you say?”

“Ah – that’s very kind,” Zbyshek uttered and just at the moment he turned around, he bumped into a man, or a boy, really, and he growled.

“What the fuck are you looking at, you idiot,” he snarled, not catching himself in time.

“Not much,” said the stranger, his voice so sarcastic yet amused, his sharp nose held high. Just when Zbyshek wanted to slap him, he came to his senses and his eyes widened. Clothes fit for a noble, that smug face only a blue-blooded prick could have… fuck. He started stuttering his apologies and avoided the noble’s eyes, looking at his shoes and making one deep bow after another. That seemed to swipe the amusement from the younger man’s face. He scowled, almost uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Just fuck off,” he said and waved his hand at him, losing any attention he was willing to give the villager. “You,” he turned to the soldier who evidently hoped for a better show than this, “have you seen that blacksmith’s boy around?”

And Zbyshek wouldn’t have noticed, not really. But he wasn’t stupid, and he could smell out an opportunity from ten miles away. Concern. That was no offhand comment about some expendable boy. And remembering the voice the lord had used just a moment ago? This was a different man asking.

“Are you sure he hasn’t sneaked in and perhaps asked you to be quiet about it? I don’t want him for picking flowers, I promise.” The voice was light but only on the outside. Zbyshek turned around, frowned… thought about the tone a little more. “Just… let me know if… I mean when he comes back, please.”Quiet, childlike, hesitant and… afraid.

No. Zbyshek was not stupid at all.

“My lord,” he waited for a moment to make sure the guard he had talked to before wouldn’t hear him. Then he caught up to the young man. “I couldn’t help but overhear you asking after a blacksmith’s boy?” The lord’s head snapped to the side to look at him.

“Couldn’t help but overhear,” he drawled but once again, interest seeped into his eyes.

“I just… I am looking for somebody named Sir Radzig, my lord. I was told by a blacksmith’s son that I should look for him? Is that you?”

The young lord stopped at that, obviously at a loss. For a noble, he was surprisingly open with his grimaces and gestures. Trying to hide them for sure, but failing miserably.

“Chm,” he said, and Zbyshek could tell that was a sound only for gaining more time. “I might be. Who is asking?”

“Henry’s friend, you could say,” he replied smoothly, schooling his features into concern with utmost care, pretending to not notice when the man’s eyes widened. “He’s in great danger, my lord. He asked me to deliver you a message. He’s being held in a camp full of mercenaries and… he fears he won’t get out of there alive.”

“Oh?” the lord scoffed with something Zbyshek supposed was meant to be an air of indifference. This man knew what was expected of him and he was not afraid to use it to his advantage. But that role didn’t really sit well with him. Somebody should tell him, sooner or later. “I was wondering where that donkey is, indeed. So he got caught up somewhere,” he shrugged. “What was he expecting to gather from you delivering the message?”

Zbyshek took a deep breath and started rubbing his hands nervously, keeping his voice just at the right breaking point.

“He asked me to get the message to Sir Radzig. He promised me I would get paid for my trouble. We’ve met near the camp before and we got to talking. He asked me to get this message to his lord if he didn’t succeed in infiltrating the camp. I had to keep very close to make sure he was there, and I even sneaked inside to try and get him out. That’s how I know he is gravely injured, my lord.” He hated to admit it but it was true that Henry was many things, but coward was not one of them. This lord seemed to care about the fool, surely he must know. “I admit I was not asked to bring any help, my lord. He only asked me to tell you his whereabouts. Told me where he stacks his money so I would take them. But I… he is my friend, my lord,” he breathed out and looked at his shoes again, lowering his shoulders. His act of a frightened village boy could help him with older soldiers and would definitely help with Radzig, but this man in front of him was something else. “I couldn’t do that to him. He might be angry with me for telling you he needs your help but you know him, how stubborn he can be, and hotheaded. He’s saved my life and I owe him. I can live with him angry rather than dead.”

It was a risk but a risk worth taking. This was without a doubt a lord. Radzig might be Henry’s liege lord and probably father too, but after the attack, he couldn’t really have a lot of money, could he? This man had to be somebody more important. And he seemed genuinely concerned.

The younger man was looking at him with something akin to fondness in his eyes. Zbyshek watched him long enough to see that his risk was going to pay off. He bowed his head once again so he could hide his smirk.

“I know. Stupid, hotheaded, idiot. Sounds like Henry alright. You have found your man so you can tell me where the camp is. You will be rewarded for your trouble, you can be sure.”

“I can show you on the map, my lord. Forgive me if I… don’t escort you there,” he gulped. “Unless you needed my guidance. I will do what you ask of me, my lord, of course.” The air of indifference and arrogance was back and he made another mental note. Hates bootlickers. Favors for the color of his blood are taken for granted. One of those who find importance in the goodness of heart or some other shit like that. “I owe Henry much more than that, I am sorry if I sound like a coward to you. I will do it for him.”

That boy was as stupid as everybody else. Once again, his eyes seemed to soften a bit, his features as well. He looked much younger like that. He could be maybe fifteen, sixteen.

“I’ll go get a map and you can show me,” he said. “Meet me in that small house in the courtyard. It’s Henry’s place, nobody else goes there. I’ll be back soon.”

***

Hans’ mind was racing against itself. Scenarios were flowing over each other, screaming, yelling at him to stop and listen and think, just think for a while, no matter that while could cost Henry his life. He might be dead already. It is probably too late. Tell Hanush. Tell Radzig. He was obviously very fond of that fool, of course, he would be very sorry to hear the news. But would he do anything to save him? Radzig was too experienced, too levelheaded to run into something like that. He wouldn’t risk the lives of his remaining men and those of Hanush (well, they belonged to him but still) to save one blacksmith boy. A boy he took care of because of his friendship with Henry’s father, if Hans remembered correctly.

Radzig was a good man, he thought. But he was a knight. He probably had witnessed countless of his friends dying. He knew how to lose a friend. Hanush knew how to lose a friend.

Hans was supposed to be a lord of this town one day. Considered too young for this business, for now. And at times like these, he even felt too young. He looked at the Upper Castle, dread freezing him to a stop just in front of the wooden steps. He didn’t remember going over the town, didn’t remember any of the churches he had passed by or the beggars or anyone yelling about the extra low prices for cabbages and apples. His heart was beating so fast he had to think very hard to remember if he’d been running all the way.

He wasn’t ready to lose a friend, didn’t know how. He didn’t want to start so soon. He could lose a soldier or a guard, he had lost his father but he had been too young to be any wiser from it. He didn’t remember him. He didn’t even dare to think of losing his seemingly indestructible uncle, and now…

He had lost girls and squires and drinking buddies, to illness, another town, accidents, murders or even old age, and how many people he had lost just because he had been an asshole? But this was different. This was Henry.

Henry who had seen this lord being an arse and decided to be a bitch about it. Henry who could give as much ass kicking as he would get from Hans. Henry who could hate him for all the good reasons and yet came for him when the Cumans tied Hans in their camp and planned to eat him alive. Henry who had fled an army of Cumans and let Hans mock him for it. Henry who didn’t shy away from Hans’s vocabulary and banter, welcomed both with open arms and sparks in his eyes. Henry who never refused to help him, even though Hans’ requests were ridiculous at best.

Hans wasn’t blind. Of course, he could tell that Radzig had a soft spot for Henry. But even then he had to think of other things, of his people, of his land (or what was left of it, anyway). Not some stupid hotheaded village boy. One stupid village boy Hans could suddenly imagine dying for. And he was a lord! He had no duty to go looking for him, let alone trying to get him out of trouble. Even back then when Henry couldn’t even hold a sword right and Hans had been in mortal danger, he hadn’t left him there. He went for him even if it meant certain death.

He would have to die by shame alone if he decided he was too scared to go for Henry. He owed it to him. Not as a lord but… a friend. He couldn’t take the risk of Radzig possibly refusing to help, and Hanush was no fool, he would see Hans’ disapproval and suddenly he would turn around and he would have a dozen soldiers on his ass. He could sneak out of the castle without any problems if nobody suspected a thing. With so many eyes on him… no. He simply couldn’t risk that.

Chapter 2: Damsel in Distress

Summary:

Here we go. Rescue time!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

He had actually gone and hid his armor out of the town under a linden tree. He actually went and left the castle at night, a rose in his sweaty hands to make a show in front of the guards at the gates. It worked well enough, they chuckled at his rather horny remarks about a visit of a certain lady and just waved him off with promises of keeping his secret safe.

He should probably do something about the stupidity of the guards once he had the rule over the land. Certainly not now when he needed them to be stupid.

He took the horse he had led out of the stables a few hours before the sundown. A black mare with suspiciously clever eyes, snorting at his shaking hands and trembling voice.

“Easy, girl,” he whispered once he got close enough to her. He rarely rode her, she could be very moody but her color was meant for night crime and that was what he was doing right now. At least in his uncle’s eyes. He was a knight in shining armor on his way to rescue a damsel in distress if anyone asked him. He let out a snicker when he imagined Henry’s face if he heard Hans just called him a damsel.

He had the armor on the mare’s back, and no idea where exactly the camp was after all. Maybe he would find it in the afternoon. Maybe he wouldn’t find it at all, maybe he will look around at one point and realize he was in Sasau.

But he found it, in the end, and it was still the same night. Standing a few steps from the place he could use to sneak in (Zbyshek was very helpful when he’d learned that he wouldn’t get paid if Hans didn’t come out of this alive), he realized it was probably as good a time as any for coming up with an astounding plan. His brain was just buzzing with anxiety and fear and there were too many flies…

He was torn between being happy at seeing Henry wasn’t guarded and being terrified because that could mean only one thing. There was nothing to guard anymore. So he slipped into the shed and promptly fell over some sack somebody left just laying by the door. Only the sack groaned and Hans could cry.

“Henry, you stupid idiot. You illiterate peasant. You…”

“Ah,” Henry recognized him. “Lord Capon himself. Come here often?” he asked and got smacked over his head.

“Dick. There are no words that would actually do your dumb ass justice, seriously-…”

“Why do you insist on getting my ass into every conversation I have with you?” Henry was groggily fumbling around, trying to get himself into a seating position and failing miserably. Every time he tried to use his hands for support, he elbowed Hans in his crotch.

“You are the definition of an arse! I am just calling things by their names. Stop writhing, you idiot, or you’ll make me a eunuch—” he hissed in pain and finally got to his feet. Only after that did he notice that Henry stayed on the ground, unmoving. Fear seized him, it took his lungs and heart and started shaking it like a dog who’d caught a rabbit. So he fell down once more and grabbed Henry’s arm – or his leg, he didn’t see shit in the dark.

“Can you stand? And possibly run out of the camp? And then survive the journey back to Rattay?” he asked, trying to overhear his own doubts.

“And kill all the bastards in the camp, yes. Also every Cuman camp we come across.”

“This is no time for jokes.” This moron didn’t deserve Hans’ concern.

“This is a joke, my lord. I just realized you probably came here alone and I…” his voice broke into a sobbing laugh. “How did you… did… what do you expect of this? There is a goddamn army out there. Get out before they find out you are here. They thought they would get a ransom for me. They would definitely get a ransom for you.”

“Who in their right mind would pay for you?” Hans asked, bewildered.

“My father, apparently,” Henry sobbed out another laugh, his pain growing with every word. His ribs were the worst. Cracked? Maybe. He could hardly breathe. His eyes were itchy with unshed tears and he felt blood in his mouth. Hopefully, he just bit his tongue.

“No offense,” Hans began but couldn’t continue. Realization washed over him and he huffed out a breath. “Oh, that explains a lot,” he said instead. “Fuck,” he added.

“Indeed,” Henry agreed. But he could hardly know the reason for it as there was nothing that could describe this whole situation better in his opinion. Hans just remembered the reason for this journey to be secret, the doubts about Radzig’s loyalty to his own men. That man would probably take an army and go to Vranik to get Henry… that’s just his luck, seriously, what now.

“I thought he would let you die here,” he whispered.

“I can’t really blame him.”

There was silence. This was not them. Hans was the person who was shitting himself with fear and still yell obscenities at bloodthirsty Cumans. Henry was someone who went into the burned village full of bandits to bury his parents, who would jump into a river without knowing how to swim. They both were made for an early end and not one of them would start being all deep and self-aware when it came to it.

Not now, not ever.

So when Hans felt Henry’s head on his shoulder, he panicked. His breath quickened and his heart started hammering its way up to his throat. There was no way of getting him out of here unnoticed. He was growing weaker every second and Hans was totally useless. They were supposed to be at each other’s throats by now. The moment Hans admits he is useless, the moment Henry says he is tired, they are done for.

He felt tears pricking in his eyes. He bit his lower lip, swallowing the hopeless sob. He didn’t come here to say goodbye. He came here to be this moron’s knight in shining armor.

“How did you find me?” he felt the whisper against his shoulder.

“A friend of yours came to Rattay.”

“I really hope you don’t mean Zbyshek. The backstabbing bastard who actually fucking works for Istvan, nearly got me killed, used Theresa as a human shield against the Cumans, robbed the dead of Skalitz just after the attack and tried to get the bloody ransom…”

“Oh. Oh, that is very good to know,” Hans said, nodding like an idiot. The movements did nothing good for Henry’s head as he turned around and vomited. It was more of a painful heaving than vomiting, he had nothing in his stomach anymore.

“What if you die while I’m gone?” Hans asked.

“Then I’ll be dead,” Henry replied. “I feel so sick that I seriously can’t wait.”

“You are so calm. How are you so fucking calm,” the young lord uttered, his teeth chattering. Nights were cold and he had only a little clothing, all black and sadly very thin. He needed to go before the sunrise. He didn’t want to go.

“I am not,” Henry said, calmly. Capon wanted to deck him right then and there.

“Do you have any idea how terrified I am? The things I do for a peasant like you.” Henry only hummed in response, leaving Hans only with his own voice. “Remember when the Cumans got me? I was scared shitless. I was screaming about arses and dicks and balls and you were sneaking around, punching one of them like a lunatic, jumping out of the bushes… how did you even… why didn’t you run, you stupid idiot? I had told you to go fuck yourself and I had called you a coward and you came back and saved me. And now? You went into a fucking enemy camp and for what? Who do you think you are?”

Henry was obviously trying to protest, but only a small wheeze came out.

“Well guess what, you moron – nobody else does that because it’s a goddamn suicide. It’s batshit crazy. It’s stupid. Maddeningly unhelpful. You are the biggest knight I’ve ever met and you are not even a knight.”

Henry grunted a small thanks.

“Arse! You and your heroics,” Hans whispered angrily, getting madder every second. “If I didn’t know your reading was shit, I would have blamed it on some stupid romantic books. I cannot stand this level of stupidity, it’s so overwhelming. I am so full I might just burst. There’s so much of stupidity whenever I am around you that I can’t take it anymore.”

“Go then,” Henry finally spoke, spitting blood. He did bite his tongue, and not only once. The pain was radiating from his face, stabbing sensation in his ribs and his head certainly wasn’t helping. Yet, he felt he should humor Hans, he had nothing better to do, after all.

“I almost pissed myself just thinking of getting into this mess to save your stupid ass and now you are being a bitch about it? I am saving you even if that is the last thing I’ll ever do.”

That was a threat if Henry ever heard one.

“Will be, probably. Seeing as you are… here. Trapped. With me.” He would wink but he could feel the black eyes already forming. He should save it just before his final breath, for the drama.

“I am not trapped. I didn’t let myself get caught like a buffoon. This is a strategy. You wouldn’t understand, with that hay brain of yours.”

“My lord,” and even though Hans couldn’t see him, he could feel that terribly, oh so fond look Henry was so keen on giving him, and only him. “You don’t know shit about strategy. Go and tell sir Radzig, and sir Hanush, that it’s been Toth all this time. Tell them I’m…” he choked up a bit, breath hitching as it couldn’t find its way around the bruised ribs and neck. “Shit. Tell sir Radzig that I’m sorry.” Fever was kicking in and Hans, once again, had to face the possibility Henry might not live to see another day.

“So dramatic,” he tutted. He felt like throwing up. “Stop whining, you’re alright. Imagine… I don’t know, imagine getting an arrow to your arse. I once saw that happen. Fuck. Can you imagine that pain? What if it went all the way in,” he was rambling now, he knew. Henry’s weight on his shoulder was getting heavier. He felt the small breath of laugh on his collarbones. “Just… can you just… hold on for a bit longer. I’ll go… I’ll go for them. Promise me you’ll wait.”

“I’ll cleeermmskedul,” was the answer. It was not so bad if he was being a dick, right? Hans could work with that. But suddenly he heard a dull thump of a limp body falling on the ground, he felt his heart shatter, his legs wobbled and all hell broke loose.

There were shouts everywhere, and light, no morning sun but torches. Creaking of wood, sounds of weapons hitting armor and in some cases, unprotected flesh. Screams and ripping sounds. The wooden roof over their heads started to crumble and Hans didn’t hesitate; he hurled himself at Henry’s limp form, shielding him from the falling beams.

The chaos went on and on, no end in sight. Hans felt his arms burning, trying to hold himself above Henry, catching every piece of wood there could possibly be. His back was screaming bloody murder and he found himself screaming, too.

“Remember when I promised you that statue for saving me from the Cumans?” he shouted at his only and quite possibly dead friend. “Well, that’s in the past now! You are not getting any!” he shrieked and that was it, this was the end for them both. He had to admit that when he had imagined Henry in this position, it was under very different circumstances. All was lost. He was going to die with Henry here, crushed by a shed that had looked far lighter than it felt now.

Again, tears were fighting their way through to his eyes, and this time, he didn’t try to stop them or swallow the sob.

“CAPON, YOU STUPID PRICK,” Hanush’s voice boomed through the camp and Hans wasn’t ashamed of the tears anymore. “YOU BETTER BE ALIVE SO I CAN KILL YOU MYSELF.”

“Oh thank god,” he whispered, tears rolling down his dusted cheeks and falling right on Henry’s face. So much for a rescue mission then. Two damsels in distress. One dead, the second crying.

Henry groaned and coughed and wheezed out a simple but very clear “fuck”.

Hans started laughing and planted a sloppy kiss on the moron’s forehead. Or at least he thought it was the forehead. He still didn’t see shit.

Notes:

This little silly fic kicked my ass, and not only once. Needed to get it out of my system, I guess. Feedback very, very appreciated.

PS: They caught Zbyshek in Rattay. He spilled the beans.

Notes:

If you refuse Zbyshek's help (twice?) at Vranik, you eventually die. That was a fun experience!

Feedback greatly appreciated! Also I hope you are all healthy and safe. Second part is finished, coming soon. If you see mistakes that are particularly annoying, point them out for me, please?