@garrlous / 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓.
When Henry had been a boy, the Duke had taken him from Alnwick into the village green, where a trial was being presided over. Town Hall was teeming with spectators, including members of the city guild and merchants who possessed a vested interest in the hearing, in which a minor peer of the realm was being tried upon pains of death. As it were, the usurer’s suit ended in execution. Richard remembered well how Henry had flinched beside him as the axe swung over the convicted’s neck - and now, albeit older, taller, squarer in his shoulders, and more physically capable than before, Richard could only see in his son the vestiges of boyhood. Adolescence had latched onto him like a foul cough.
The duke stood from his study as Henry waltzed past the threshold into his privy chamber, all bluster and braggadocio, swaggering with a confidence that even on Richard’s best day he did not have the mettle to muster up. Richard squinted - a result of tawdry eyesight, rather than scrutiny, and clamped his mouth into an austere line. ‘Ah, Henry. Late - again.’ He tsked as his hand reached out to settle upon the earl’s arm, ‘pray, sit. I have a task for you, if your lordship will humour me. But first, how was tennis? Did you do your lord father proud?’