So, I finished Rattay! (I hope cause this is too big and I probably missed some doors and windows and furnishings) But thats it! I had a lot of fun! I took the entire day off for this build!
The main issue was that the map is square af, when Rattay is long, and a rectangular map would be ideal, so I basically folded the map in half (and we missed some buildings because of it) and now Rattay 2.0 is born, check the layout:
I kept the main buildings but I had to move some, like the church is not right next to the rathaus, but a across the main square (the pillory square).
Anyways, for those who are curious:
The bridge to the upper castle over the shooting range- and the shooting range.
And some shots from the upper castle with the arena, stables and guardhouse, outside bridge too!
Personal research about Jan Ptacek, middle organizion
if you interested in my record research about his pa,
check this link. [Jan Jesek]
I'm not historian, if you find incorrect info in here,
plz don't hesitate to tell me with proper source I can recheck.
I'll add more or fix if there is record I forgot to write or wrote wrong.
Jan Ptacek is being considered was born 1388. but we must know that those birth years not correct unless therer is specific date record. it's calculated from his name being mentioned as a lord. he could had been born bit more earlier or later.
Jan's guardians who Jesek picked up before he died seems all died before Jesek. their names don't show up at some point in records while Jesek is keep being mentioned. Leipa family becomes Jan's regents and guardians via Jobst's consent in 1398.
Jan's name being fully mentioned as a lord in 1406 at the session of the Moravia land court at Brno. in Polna's region website, they described Jan becomes an assessor of region courts. since this session was held on 1406.22.January, Jan probably confirmed as an adult in last year 1405.
however, his name doesn't show up in sessions often. not sure have I missed it or he really didn't join. maybe he was there but the scribers just wrote like and "other nobles" nobody knows what exactly he were doing.
1408, Jan legally set 60,000 Prague groschen of dowry for his wife Jitka. he gave her future ownership of Uncovice, Brezova, Mezice and joint farms, mills, etc. she can take all the incomes from there till it fulfill the amount of groschen he set up for her after he dies. he also allowed Jitka to take his other properties if it's not enough to fulfill. Jitka's brother Erhart was there to confirm it.
in 1446, Jitka took her dowry and promised she won't bother more about it.
Same year, 1408 at Nizkov, Jan allowed a priest to be the parish priest of Nizkov church. Nizkov is one of Pirkstein family's estates in Moravia. at this time Nizkov church were having trouble with taking a new parish priest for the empty seat.
1410, in May, Jan sued four people.
- Erhart Puska z Cuntat for damaging Jan's properties in Uncovice without reason or legal rights. he also blocked, kidnapped Jan's people. in a thesis, Erhart attacked Uncovice castle.
as an additional note, Erhart Puska was a robber knight. unlike Hynek Dry Devil robbed around for military reason, Erhart Puska seems randomly robbed people and lands for personal benefits.
- Rest of three people Jan sued after a week in the same month was Leipa brothers. Hanush and his brothers, about sitting on his rightful property Rataj.
Hanush revolted against Vaclav IV for years because the king didn't pay his work. Hanush robbed the kingdom used Rataj as his lair. in Hrady book series, the author described the king gathered army to cease Hanush in this year. I think I saw about this part in regesta, gota check it later.
1412, finally, it's the year that Hanush returns Rataj to Jan. Jan had to give Hanush 50 hrb and Senorady. it's pretty unfair but the court was not like present at that time. maybe it was best choice to Jan to stop Hanush keep causing trouble from his estate as soon as possible. besides, Senorady is lone estate that's on between Uncovice and Polna, also close to Tenplestejn where was Hanush's estate.
idk is it a trustable thesis but there is mention Jan put a trusty burgrave at Uncovie to take care of there cuz he can't visit often to do it by himself.
1415, Jan signed the remonstrance about Hus.
also Jan seems he gave Senorady to Hanush this year cuz Hanush recorded that he got the Senorady on the Land book. which means Jan didn't give Senorady in 1412 and held it for years.
there was a lot of history between them so it's quit hilarious situation. despite Hanush's revolt against the king, he becomes a Marshal of the kingdom, however he died later this year.
as an additional note, Hanush's father's brother Pertldt, Cenek of Leipa was also Marchals too.
In robber name list of 1417(scriber's guessed year of the original document) , there is name "Hanns" and noted he was around Rataj. scriber guessed it might be Jan. original language of the list is Latin and Hans is nick of Johannes, which means Jan. it's just possibility but I save this info cuz it's interesting.
Jan got a commission to solve a dispute between two families of Moravia in 1418. this record have no other details but this. maybe I gota find more about it later.
1419, Jan joined Battle of Zivohoste on Catholic side this year. it is unknown why he joined but historians guessed it because his neighbor Petr of Sternberk.
unlike Jan, Petr was on Catholic side from the beginning of Hus situation.
other notable part is, if you read my other organization of what I found about Jesek, Jan's father Jesek and his family was close to churches and monasteries. donated pretty many things and Jan also donated Nizkov church too.
since not every moment were recorded there might be more records those are left or banished more than we know.
1420, Jan purchased a house at Prague, Hradcany area and also recorded he donated to Nizkov church in this year. both info have no specific date but the year.
I guess those records are why some of historian and people think he also joined Vysehrad battle.
Extra notes.
- Region website also described Polna's suburban, Dolní město, Horní město, Zápeklí, Kateřinov, Žabokrty was developed much earlier before Hus situation by Jan.
- In genealogical term, Jan and Hanush is same generation or Jan is one generation above than Hanush. he just was born very late.
Jan's grandpa Cenek z Sloup have been confused if he's same person with Cenek z Oybin who was the root of Pirkstejn family. but due to the age gap between them people are assuming that Oybin is dead 1303 or 1306 and rest of record named Cenek is his son. in this case, Jans and Hanush is same generation and 3rd cousin which means that they're almost stranger to each other in genealogic.
@playpausephoto managed to capture Hans as the man he’s grown into — and I’m endlessly grateful for it.
From Fire – Part I
Lord of Pirkstein
The first chapter of the new series begins where Weight of a Name ended: after weeks of quiet, borrowed time in Foxburrow, Hans and Henry return to Rattay — to face what comes next.
—
Henry stood with his back against the cold stone wall, watching the quiet rhythm of the courtyard below.
By the gate, two guards spoke briefly before one disappeared into the watchroom. A horse stirred beneath the lean-to, gave a snort, and turned its head into the wind. Everything else clung to the ground — voices, footsteps, even the rustle of treetop leaves, as if the sound had drifted from some distant place.
The sky hung low and close. Grey veils of cloud drifted past, thick and slow. The sun did not show its face.
He stood upright, one foot resting on the worn threshold stone, arms loosely crossed. He looked composed.
But his thoughts had wandered back — to the first time he’d come to Rattay. Just days after burying his parents with his own hands in the scorched remains of Skalitz.
Henry closed his eyes. The scent of ash and death returned as vividly as ever. He knew it would never leave him. And he knew it shouldn’t.
Back then, he’d hardly known how to grip a sword. The wound from the Cuman arrow still throbbed.
And then—
Rattay.
The first place where it had felt like something might begin again.
New faces. New air.
And Hans.
A faint smile touched his lips.
He thought of Hans, of what he’d been like back then. An insufferable, arrogant arse, always spoiling for a fight or a contest. Henry’s smile deepened.
Now Hans was somewhere in the upper castle, speaking to the uncle he’d stood up to — for the first time — only yesterday.
Henry had let him go alone. The thought still sat heavy in his chest.
Hans had remained there upon arrival — and sent Henry here, to Pirkstein.
As though trying to grant him rest, and at the same time, keep him apart.
Henry understood.
But if it had been his choice, he would have done it differently.
He let out a quiet breath. He wouldn’t want to be in Hans’s place.
He had long understood that Hans’s childhood and youth under his uncle’s rule had not been easy.
What Hans had hinted at over time — and what he hadn’t said, but made clear in other ways — had stayed with him.
And some of it—
some of it had torn free in broken cries and gasping sobs, wrenched from memory in the grip of fever.
Henry could still remember it too clearly: the way Hans had clung to his hand, breath ragged, eyes wild with things Henry couldn’t reach.
How helpless he’d felt. How close he’d come to losing him.
He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand through his hair, and steadied himself on the wall.
But ever since Hans had become a man, something between him and Hanush had started to shift.
Something in his bearing had shifted — not in defiance, but in quiet.
A calm sort of certainty that came not from shouting, but from a choice made long ago and held quietly ever since.
Yesterday, Henry had seen it with his own eyes — the way it had caught Hanush off guard.
And he’d seen, too, that Hanush wouldn’t let it go without response.
No — he truly wouldn’t want to be in Hans’s place now.
But more than anything, he wished he were beside him.
If only so Hans would know he was there.
That he could count on him. That he wasn’t alone.
A sudden burst of children’s laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Somewhere beyond the gate, a game was underway. He listened for a moment, eyes drifting across the steel-grey sky.
For Hans, returning to Rattay meant coming home.
For Henry—
it meant returning to rules. To watching eyes. To shouts. To silence.
He had no doubt Hans wouldn’t let go of him.
But he also knew this world they’d come back to was not made for men like them.
His gaze swept across the courtyard.
No one seemed to be paying him much attention.
And yet, now and then, he felt the weight of a glance on his back. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just him.
The muffled hum of the town lingered in the distance, but the castle felt submerged — held beneath something colder and deeper than air.
He raised a hand and rubbed at his brow.
Let him be back soon, he thought.
And then, through the gate, a familiar face appeared.
Captain Bernard was striding towards him, hands behind his back, gaze fixed directly on him.
As he drew near, he gave a short nod.
“Henry.”
“Bernard.”
Their greeting was brief, stripped of ceremony — the kind of understanding shared by men who knew each other and had no need to posture. But where Henry’s voice was calm, Bernard’s held a quiet urgency.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said at once. “I need you to ride with a patrol. Three men, heading out along the Talmberg road. Someone spotted suspicious figures — seems they’ve been lurking there since yesterday.”
Henry raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve only just arrived…”
There was no resistance in his tone, only mild surprise.
Bernard gave a shrug. “Order came down from the upper castle.”
He said it without edge — but with the weight of finality.
Henry nodded.
He lingered a moment. Nothing came.
“All right. I’ll head out now.”
Bernard gave another nod, turned on his heel, and made for the gate.
Henry watched him go for a few heartbeats, then moved.
He crossed to the stables, where someone was already saddling the horses.
He buckled on his belt, checked the stirrups. One of the younger guards fell in beside him without a word. Then another. And a third.
They exchanged short nods.
And rode out.
The courtyard, once again, sank into the slow rhythm of a grey day.
And stayed in it until the young lord’s arrival.
Hans dismounted just beyond the gate. He let the horse stand for a moment and stayed by its side, as if expecting a familiar face to appear nearby.
He scanned the courtyard — searching, not idly, not out of passing curiosity, but with the look of someone who meant to find what was missing.
Then came a joyful bark, and Mutt bounded toward him from somewhere out of sight. Hans knelt and rubbed behind dog’s ears with both hands.
"Where’s your master, you little beast?"
Mutt gave a cheerful yap and licked his face.
Hans straightened and made for the main building. At the door to the lower hall, he paused and peered inside. Empty.
With a frown, he climbed the stair. His shoulders were tense, his steps swift.
He was back a short while later. The door to his wing closed behind him with more force than it had opened.
There was a shadow on his face that hadn’t been there before.
He stopped at the top of the steps and swept a sharp look across the courtyard — then made for the nearest servant.
“Where’s my companion?”
No anger in his voice.
Just that calm — the kind that felt worse.
The man hesitated, blinking. “I— I’m not sure who you mean, my lord…”
Hans’s jaw clenched, his voice sharpening.
“Rider. Arrived a few hours ago. In armour. On a loaded horse. Where is he?”
The man swallowed and nodded quickly. “Ah… yes. I think Captain Bernard sent him out with a patrol — toward Talmberg.”
Hans’s face didn’t move. But something in his stance shifted.
For a moment, it seemed something had tugged at him from within — and he barely held it back.
He drew a breath — something sharp on the verge of breaking free—
But stopped himself.
The frightened man wasn’t to blame.
“Where’s Bernard?”
“Went… up the hill, my lord. He’s gone.”
Hans stood motionless. His eyes fixed somewhere beyond, focused and cold.
Then he turned sharply, crossed to his horse, mounted, and without thinking, his hand slid across the hilt of the sword at his hip.
He spurred the animal forward and rode up through the heart of Rattay.
In the great hall of the upper castle, the torches crackled softly.
The air smelled of wine, meat, and grease.
Hanush sat in a chair at the long table.
The plates before him still bore scraps of game and fruit. His fingers glistened with fat; crumbs clung to his beard, and his cheeks shone. He was just slipping the last bite into his mouth when the doors flew open.
Hans stood in the doorway.
His face was stone. His gaze, direct and cold.
Hanush looked up without the slightest trace of surprise.
He wiped his hands on the hem of his doublet — leaving dark smudges — and reached for his cup.
He took a sip, set it down with exaggerated calm, and gave a faint smile.
“So soon?” he said lightly. “I thought you’d at least stop for a drink. Or are you here to report your patrol’s success?”
Hans didn’t move.
“This will not happen again.”
Hanush poured himself more wine. Slowly — unbearably slowly.
“The patrol is for security. I don’t need permission for that.”
He lifted the cup.
“Least of all from you.”
“No,” Hans said sharply. “But you won’t do it behind my back.”
“I’m still your regent. Still ruler of Rattay,” Hanush snapped.
For a moment, the room held its breath.
Hans glanced around the hall, then fixed his gaze back on his uncle.
“I want Pirkstein placed under my sole authority. Everyone there — the guard, the staff — will answer to me.”
Hanush let out a loud laugh that broke into a cough, splashing wine across the table.
“And why, in God’s name, would I do that?” he asked, eyes boring into Hans.
“Because in return, I won’t make trouble about your promise concerning my marriage, Uncle,” Hans said slowly, brushing an invisible speck from the front of his quilted coat.
“And you know,” he added after a beat, “that if something goes wrong, you’ll be the one with the most to lose.”
“I offer you my word as a nobleman.”
Hanush took a long sip.
For a while, he said nothing — just looked at him, weighing what had just unfolded.
Then he gave a short, dry laugh.
“Well then… fine. Keep your lower castle,” he said at last, the words leaving him sour and stiff.
Hans didn’t move.
He didn’t thank him. He didn’t smile.
He simply turned and walked out without a word.
The door closed behind him.
Hoofbeats thundered across the courtyard of Pirkstein.
Hans dismounted in one smooth motion and cast a sharp glance around.
“Call the garrison,” he said to the first guard he saw. “All of them.”
The man hesitated. “But, my lord—”
“Now,” Hans cut in.
The guard gave a short nod and hurried off.
It wasn’t ten minutes before the courtyard filled with familiar faces.
Men of the lower castle — some older, some young. Most knew Hans, but few had ever heard him speak like this.
He stood on the wooden gallery above, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared. His gaze, fixed on the courtyard below, was calm — and hard.
“By agreement with Sir Hanush, I am now taking full command of Pirkstein,” he announced.
“The running of the lower castle is from this day forth mine alone.”
His eyes moved over the gathered men.
“Captain Bernard remains in charge of the upper castle. I take charge here. Whatever happens in this place — training, supplies, patrols — everything — goes through me.”
He paused, seeking the next words.
“Or through my right hand — Master Henry.”
A faint murmur stirred across the courtyard.
“His word is mine,” Hans said, his tone quiet but firm.
“He has my full trust. And I trust he’ll have yours as well.”
A brief silence followed.
Hans shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“For my use, I’ll be taking the chamber by the great hall. It’ll be arranged as needed. And my companion…”
He paused, but only for a heartbeat.
“…will remain in my old quarters. Have them ready for his return.”
No one spoke.
Hans straightened again.
“That’s all. Dismissed.”
The courtyard thinned as men dispersed. Hans leaned on the railing and looked down, his expression unreadable.
The anger he’d carried from the meeting with Hanush still lingered.
And perhaps a trace of it clung to Bernard, though Hans wanted to believe the captain had only followed orders.
He crossed the courtyard.
His eyes drifted over the stones and walls, unfocused.
Near the stables, one of the grooms straightened when he noticed him.
“My lord,” the man said cautiously. “Shall I ready your horse?”
Hans stopped.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he shook his head, barely, his brows drawn.
“…I don’t know,” he murmured. “Perhaps. I’ll let you know.”
The groom gave a nod and stepped back.
Hans lingered there a breath longer, jaw tight, breath shallow.
He wasn’t even sure what he meant to do.
It wasn’t protection he wanted to offer.
It was just—
the simple, stupid need to be near him.
Hans exhaled and turned away — the blanket of restlessness still clinging to him, heavier than the wind.
He set off for the ramparts, pacing them in slow, thoughtful strides. After a time, he stopped, turned, and made his way to the living wing of the castle.
He entered what was now Henry’s chamber.
For a moment, he just stood there, letting his eyes wander across the walls and furniture — checking, it seemed, that all was as it should be for the one who mattered most.
He stepped to the chest, knelt, opened it, considered for a moment, then closed it again.
He paused beside the bed and gave the room one last look.
Then drew a breath and stepped back outside.
Evening shadows stretched across the battlements of Pirkstein.
Hans stood with his arms resting on the cold stone, staring out into the distance. Below him, the land faded into a haze of grey — fields, woods, winding paths. His face was calm, but his gaze distant.
So much had happened today that he hadn’t yet fully grasped the weight of it. What he’d done. What he’d said.
But his thoughts were fixed on a single muddy thread of road, winding up the slope toward Rattay.
And then—
A group of riders moved along it.
At first, their shapes were little more than shadows. But as they drew closer, their outlines sharpened.
Hans straightened.
At their head rode a man in fine armour.
Even from a distance, Hans knew exactly who it was.
He turned without a word and made his way down the stairs.
The courtyard was quiet.
A few guards lingered near the horses, and when they saw him approach, they straightened and stepped aside. He passed without a glance.
He stopped at the centre of the yard, just as the riders reached the gate.
Henry was the first to dismount.
There was dust on his armour, weariness in his face — but his eyes were clear and fixed on Hans.
Hans took a step toward him, then paused.
In the end, it was Henry who spoke first.
“We rode the road, didn’t see a soul. If Captain Bernard wants to know.”
Hans’s voice stayed low, flat.
“He’s not here, Henry. If he ever meant to ask.”
He held his gaze steady.
“But we’ve more important things to discuss anyway.”
His attention shifted to one of the servants.
“Take Master Henry to his chamber.”
The servant gave a nod.
“Hans, I just need somewhere clean and dry—” Henry began, but Hans cut him off.
“It’s already seen to. Once you’ve settled and had a breath, come find me. We have urgent matters to speak of.”
With that, he turned, climbed the steps, and vanished into the depths of the castle.
Henry gave a small shrug and handed the reins to one of the guards. He nodded and followed the servant up the stairs.
The servant opened the door and stepped aside.
“This way, sir. If you need anything, I’m at your service.”
Henry crossed the threshold. The door closed softly behind him.
He stood still in the centre of the room.
This wasn’t an unfamiliar space. He’d been here before. He’d stood just there, waiting to be called in. Sometimes he’d lingered by the wall while listening to Hans.
Back then, Henry had been a squire — and Hans merely his lord.
But now Henry stood here alone.
He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his palm over the coverlet. The fabric was soft, heavy. For a fleeting moment, he thought he caught Hans’s scent in it, and without thinking, drew in a quiet breath.
A memory surfaced: he had come here once with a message.
Hans had been asleep, lying just there.
And Henry had stood, watching the peaceful stillness of his face.
Now the recollection made him smile — remembering how startled he’d been by his own reaction, or perhaps afraid that his lord might wake and see him staring.
He let out a quiet sigh.
He adored watching Hans’s face in sleep, when dreams flickered behind his closed eyes. He loved holding him close and feeling the slow rhythm of his breath. And he hated not knowing when he’d next get to hold him like that — to feel him, to kiss him, to be near.
He stood, crossed to the chest, lifted the lid partway. Inside were fresh shirts and other garments, neatly folded.
He closed it again.
Walked to the window and braced his hands against the frame, peering into the dark.
I should go to Hans.
Hans sat at the small table by the wall.
Two candles burned on the surface, their flames flickering in the draught that occasionally slipped through the chamber.
Beyond the windows, the wind moaned now and then.
An open book lay before him.
One elbow rested on the table, fingers tangled in his hair, his gaze long since drifted from the page.
He registered the words only vaguely, his mind elsewhere.
A knock broke the silence.
He didn’t move.
Only when it came again — knuckles lightly tapping wood — did he lift his head.
“Yes?” he said.
The door opened a crack.
“My lord — Master Henry,” the guard announced.
Hans didn’t look up from the book.
“Let him in,” he said.
“And see that I’m not disturbed — by anything or anyone.”
The door opened wider.
Henry stepped inside, silent.
When the door closed behind him, Hans was still seated, head bowed.
“Henry,” he said, a little louder this time — as if reminding himself that now was the time to speak aloud.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
He rose — slowly — and turned to face him.
“We need to speak about my meeting with Sir Hanush,” he said, his voice clear.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Their expressions shifted subtly. The weariness began to melt. A smile settled in their eyes — then on their lips. Quiet, a little incredulous.
Hans stepped forward.
He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the space between them and pulled Henry into a firm, sudden embrace. And kissed him — before Henry had the chance to say a word.
There was only the briefest pause —
then Henry answered him. Drew him closer. Their mouths met again, slower, steadier this time.
They held each other for a long while — hands on backs, arms, the curve of a neck — as if needing to feel, to confirm,
You’re here.
This is real.
“I missed you,” Henry whispered, barely audible.
Hans leaned his forehead lightly against Henry’s shoulder.
His breath came warm and slow.
“I was this close to riding after you,” he murmured. “Down that bloody Talmberg road.”
Henry smiled and gave a soft shake of his head and kissed him again — while Hans’s fingers slipped gently through his hair.
They stayed like that a little longer, arms wrapped around each other. Their lips brushed now and then — a cheek, a throat, breath shared in passing.
Then Hans pulled back slightly, took Henry’s hand, and nodded toward the bed.
“Come sit with me,” he said quietly. “Strictly honourable,” he added, with a faint laugh.
Henry drew him close again.
“Pity,” he murmured into his ear, trailing a hand along the inside of Hans’s thigh.
“Henry, for God’s sake,” Hans mock-scolded.
“All right, all right,” Henry grinned.
They sat side by side on the edge of the bed.
“What’s going on here, Hans?” Henry asked softly.
Hans stared ahead for a moment.
“A great many things,” he said under his breath, then slowly turned toward Henry.
“I had no idea they’d sent you away. When I arrived and you weren’t here…”
His voice faltered. In the end, he just shook his head.
Henry gave a small shrug.
“I didn’t know what to make of it either. But when Bernard said the order came from the upper castle…”
He shrugged again, eyes falling to the blanket between them. His fingers drifted across it without thinking.
Hans leaned closer and laid a hand over his. The touch was firm — but careful.
“I didn’t know a thing,” he said. “Hanush went behind my back.”
Henry looked up at him, his expression calm — but something darker stirred in his eyes. He placed his other hand over Hans’s, more firmly this time, as if to say, It’s all right.
“What’s he playing at?” he asked.
Hans was quiet for a beat. His thumb moved gently across Henry’s knuckles.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said at last. “But I think he wanted to remind me he still holds the reins.”
Henry said nothing. He looked down at his boots, then back at Hans.
“Suppose we should’ve seen it coming,” he murmured.
Hans drew a breath.
“I confronted him straightaway,” he said calmly.
Henry turned to him.
“You did what?”
Hans gave a faint smirk and lifted one shoulder.
“Went to have a word, let’s say.”
Henry leaned in slightly.
“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing lightly over Hans’s wrist.
Hans met his gaze. His features stayed composed — but there was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“I did, Henry. For your sake.
And for mine.”
He paused.
“For ours,” he added softly.
Henry stroked his hand.
“How did it end?”
Hans gave a low, humourless laugh and looked up at the ceiling, as if trying to read the answer in the beams overhead.
“To tell you the truth… I’m not entirely sure.”
His eyes wandered around the room, like he was only now settling back into it.
“But he agreed to hand me command of Pirkstein. Immediately.”
Henry stilled.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“Truth be told…” Hans raised his brows. “Neither did I. Which is why I don’t trust him.”
He exhaled audibly, as if trying to shake something off.
“In return, I gave him my word the wedding would go forward without interference.”
He lowered his gaze to the floor.
The words came out softer than they should have.
Henry reached out, slipped an arm around his shoulders, and gently drew him close.
Hans let his head rest against Henry’s chest, and Henry pressed a kiss into his hair.
“We’ll manage,” he whispered.
Hans let out a soft breath and wrapped his arms around him.
“We will,” he echoed — almost voiceless, but with a resolve that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
He shifted, lifted his head, and their eyes met.
“The wedding…” he began, then paused. “It’s meant to happen before the end of October.”
Henry said nothing. His jaw tensed, just barely, and he gave a small nod.
His gaze didn’t waver from Hans’s.
“Tomorrow,” Hans went on, even quieter now, “I’m to meet with the Kunstadt family.”
He hesitated.
“And with Lady Jitka.”
Henry lowered his head and pressed his fingers briefly to the bridge of his nose.
Then he looked back at Hans.
“Do you want me there with you?”
Hans shook his head.
“It’ll be just them, and Hanush—”
“I understand,” Henry said before he could finish.
“—I’ll need you here more, Henry.”
A slight furrow crossed Henry’s brow.
“What do you mean?”
Hans nodded toward the door.
“When I took command of Pirkstein today, I named you my official second here.”
Henry looked up. A flicker of surprise touched his face.
Hans smiled.
“I’ve made it known to everyone here — your voice carries the same weight as mine.”
Henry lowered his gaze. Silence settled between them for a moment.
Then he looked back at Hans.
“You’re sure about that?”
Hans’s lips curved into a quiet, steady smile.
“Absolutely, love.”
He leaned in and kissed him.
Henry pulled him close again without hesitation and kissed him once more.
Their lips met. Tongues brushed.
Breath quickened.
Fingers found familiar places— the nape of the neck, the line of a shoulder, the curve of a back.
Hans broke away suddenly. He drew back, slightly out of breath, his eyes half-lidded.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth — almost shy.
“We have to be careful,” he said quietly, with a hint of apology in his voice.
“I know,” Henry breathed.
“But it’s hard, Hans.”
Hans arched one brow.
Henry tilted his head.
“Not that.”
Though he snorted. “Well — that too.”
Then he let out a laugh — dry, a little bitter.
“I meant it’s hard not to be able to touch you.
Not the way I want.
Not when I want.
Not at all.”
Hans drew a breath.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, his hand sliding along Henry’s thigh.
“That’s why,” he added, glancing around the chamber,
“I moved.”
His eyes locked with Henry’s.
“So I could have you as close as possible, Henry.”
Henry smiled — then glanced toward the door.
“You’ve still got a guard outside.”
Hans pursed his lips. “That too can be arranged,” he said after a moment, smiling faintly.
“You remember what I told you a few days ago? That we’ll always find a way?”
Henry nodded.
Hans held his gaze for a moment.
“I’ve already started walking it,” he said quietly.
Henry didn’t speak. He simply reached for Hans’s hand — gently, as if holding something rare.
He bent down and kissed it — not with heat, but with care. Slowly.
As if what he held needed to be protected.
Hans held his breath.
When Henry looked up again, their eyes met.
His fingertips traced the line of Hans’s cheek.
“Shall we get a bit of air?” Hans asked softly.
“To where?” Henry asked, surprised.
“Just the battlements,” Hans said with a smile.
They stood side by side, the silence broken only now and then by the faint crack of timber in the distance.
Down in the town below, a handful of lights flickered — hearths, lanterns, tiny sparks of life.
High above it all, on the battlements, there were only the two of them.
Henry rested his hands on the cold stone. The chill seeped into his arms, but he didn’t mind.
He said nothing. There were too many words in his head to choose even one.
Then he felt a touch — tentative, testing.
Hans’s fingers brushed his hand, as if asking permission.
Henry said nothing. He simply let his palm drift down to meet them and laced their fingers together.
He shifted his weight and leaned gently against Hans’s arm.
“It almost looks like a city,” Hans said quietly, after a while. “Like we’re standing over something far greater than it is.”
Henry nodded.
“And all of it will be ours to look after, Henry,” Hans added with a smile. “Doesn’t that frighten you?”
Henry drew a slow breath in, then let it out.
“I’ve been through worse shite, I think.”
Hans laughed.
“Ay, I’d say I’ve seen some of it too.”
Henry’s smile faded.
“What worries me more is that we haven’t even been here a full day, and already…”
He trailed off.
“Already there are things in the way.”
Hans gave a tired sort of smile.
“Ay… it caught me off guard too.”
They fell silent again. Then Henry spoke.
“There’s always going to be something else, isn’t there. It’ll never be easy.”
“No,” Hans replied simply.
“But we’ll be in it together. Even if it means a thousand lies. And one truth we’ll never speak aloud.”
Henry leaned toward him. His forehead brushed Hans’s cheek.
“That’s enough for me.”
Hans let his eyes drift over the battlements. Then he smiled at him and brushed a soft kiss to his lips.
He let out a breath.
“We should probably get some sleep, Henry.”
Henry gave a small nod. Though a little reluctant.
“Ay.”
Hans hesitated for a moment.
“I have the meeting with the Kunstadts tomorrow. I’d like you to take the time to settle in here. Get a sense of Pirkstein.”
A faint smile touched Henry’s lips.
“I know. Master Henry.”
Hans’s thumb brushed lightly over the back of Henry’s hand.
“Someone’s got to keep watch over our home.”
Hans lay awake in the unfamiliar bed.
The fire had burned down to cold ash. The room held stillness in every corner — the kind of stillness that made the darkness feel closer, thicker, heavier.
He shifted.
Turned onto his side.
Waited.
Turned again.
Sleep didn’t come. It didn’t even come close.
For a while, he gave up on movement. Just lay there, eyes open, staring into the black above him. Listening to the wind as it moved past the shutters.
There was nothing strange in the sound. Nothing new.
He wasn’t sure what kept him awake.
The weight of the day, maybe. The words left unsaid. The pull of thoughts that circled too tightly to escape.
Or maybe—
maybe it was the room itself. The unfamiliar walls. The bed that didn’t know him.
Or maybe—
it was simply the absence of Henry’s warmth.
The absence of his breath, soft and steady, and that faint sound Hans had come to know by heart — the quiet snore Henry made when he was too tired to fight it.
After a while, Hans drew a slow breath and sat up.
For a moment, he just sat there, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes fixed on the door.
Then he stood. Pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it over his shoulders before moving softly across the floor.
The door gave a faint creak as he eased it open.
He paused, peered out into the dim light of the hall.
The guard sat slumped against the wall, head bowed, fast asleep.
Hans watched him for a moment. Something flickered in his eyes — maybe amusement, maybe weariness — then he stepped silently past, the blanket trailing behind him.
When he reached Henry’s door, he stopped.
The corridor lay empty around him.
He stood still, as if listening — for a sound, a breath, anything.
His eyes drifted to the door. He hesitated.
For a moment, his hand lifted.
Then lowered again.
A quiet sigh left him.
He glanced once more down the hallway. Then stepped away.
The courtyard lay hushed in the night, broken only by the distant clatter of a restless hoof.
Hans crossed it without a sound. Climbed the steps to the battlements.
And there— against the dark sweep of the sky— a silhouette.
Henry.
Henry saw him and, after a moment’s pause, stepped forward.
They met halfway along the battlements, the wind brushing softly past.
For a moment, they simply stood — face to face, close enough to see the breath rise between them, close enough to catch the faintest smile on the other’s lips.
Both of them looked, for a heartbeat, almost surprised.
Then Hans’s mouth curved. He gave a soft huff of breath, half a laugh.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low, the edges of a smile still in it.
Henry’s eyes held his. He gave a small shrug, exhaled softly, shoulders loosening a fraction.
“Figured I could ask you the same thing.”
Hans exhaled softly. He shifted his weight slightly closer. His hand drifted — casual, slow — and the back of his finger brushed along Henry’s knuckles.
Light as breath. Barely there.
“I think,” he murmured, “if I had you beside me, I could sleep anywhere. Even here. On these bloody walls.”
Henry’s eyes dropped for a moment, the corner of his mouth tugging into something softer.
He let out a quiet sigh and when he looked back up, his gaze was gentle.
“Funny how you start taking things for granted without meaning to,” he said, his voice little more than a breath.
“And then you feel them twice as much the moment they’re gone.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The wind stirred the hem of Hans’s blanket. Somewhere below, a horse shifted, its hoof striking stone.
Hans let out a soft breath, the corner of his mouth tugging higher.
“Maybe I should head to the kitchens. Find a wineskin and drink until I finally pass out.”
Henry breathed a soft laugh, the sound low and warm.
But after a moment, his eyes shifted. He grew thoughtful. His gaze lingered on Hans.
Hans tilted his head slightly, uncertain.
“What?”
Henry’s brows drew together faintly.
“Did anyone see you leave?” he asked softly.
Hans gave a small shake of his head.
“The guard’s asleep.”
Henry exhaled through his nose, then glanced away for a beat.
“No one comes to wake you in the morning, right?”
Hans’s smile returned, a little puzzled.
“No. Not unless I ask.”
Henry’s mouth quirked. A small, knowing grin tugged at the edges.
“Then maybe,” he murmured, voice soft but playful, “Sir Capon would care to pay Master Henry a visit.”
The words were light, but something in the way he said them — and in the way his eyes held Hans’s — made the meaning clear.
Hans’s lips curved wider.
He didn’t answer aloud.
He just nodded.
The door clicked softly shut.
Henry slid the bolt into place, the sound barely audible in the stillness.
When he turned, Hans was standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, smiling faintly.
Henry crossed to him without a word and pulled him into a firm embrace. Their mouths met — slow at first, but quickly deepening. Quiet, but hungry.
They kissed. Touched. Fingers trailing, breath catching, moving closer until there was barely space between them.
Hans had already let the blanket slip away. He wore only his thin linen trousers, the fabric soft against Henry’s hands.
Without breaking the kiss, Hans pulled Henry’s shirt over his head, dropping it aside. Their bare chests pressed together, skin to skin, save for the feel of leather cords and the small pendants each of them wore at their throats.
Henry let out a breath — sharp, shaky — when he felt Hans’s arousal against his thigh. He shifted, without thinking, pressing forward — their hips grazing, both of them already too far gone to pretend otherwise.
They stilled at once.
Breathless.
Eyes meeting.
A soft, guilty smile curved Henry’s lips.
“We really should sleep,” he murmured.
Hans let out a quiet laugh, the faintest edge of regret in his eyes. But he nodded.
“Ay,” he breathed. “We should.”
They lay down together, the mattress dipping beneath their weight.
Henry settled on his back, head resting against the pillow, breath easing out slow.
Hans curled in beside him — his head on Henry’s shoulder, one arm draped across his chest, their legs tangled loosely under the blankets.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just breathed.
Soft. Steady.
Bodies pressed close, warmth shared, the familiar comfort of skin against skin. The steady rise and fall of Henry’s chest beneath Hans’s palm. The scent of him — sweat, leather, and something clean and faintly sharp that Hans had long since come to crave.
Henry’s fingertips traced light, absent circles along the bare line of Hans’s waist.
Hans shifted slightly, his breath soft against Henry’s throat, and let his thumb graze gently across his chest. Back and forth. Slow. Without thought.
The quiet settled over them.
Hans pressed a soft kiss to the skin just beneath Henry’s ear, the barest brush of lips.
Henry smiled faintly.
“Feels less like my chamber now,” he murmured. “With you here… it feels more like ours.”
He let the words hang for a moment, then gave a soft huff of breath.
“Though I suppose, until tonight, it was still your room anyway.”
Hans gave a quiet sound of amusement.
Henry’s lips curved into something a little more playful.
“You know—” and here he let out a soft laugh—
“if I count Suchdol, Devil’s Den, that ruined farmhouse, and Foxburrow… this might be the only bedroom of yours where we haven’t done that.”
Hans let out a soft breath of amusement.
“Technically, it’s not my bedroom anymore. And you’re forgetting Maleshov.”
Henry gave a quiet snort. “Right. Maleshov.”
A pause.
“Not sure Brabant would’ve appreciated that, though,” Hans murmured.
And that was it—
The laughter broke. Breathless. Muffled. Shoulders shaking. Faces buried against each other, breathless with the effort to stay quiet.
The more they tried to stop, the worse it got.
Helpless.
Slowly, the laughter ebbed.
They caught their breath, still grinning, foreheads nearly touching. Their eyes shone — bright, soft, alive.
Henry let out a quiet breath, still smiling. His voice barely more than a whisper.
“I love you so damn much, Jendo.”
Hans’s smile deepened. His eyes softened, lids lowering as he leaned in and brushed a kiss — slow, warm — against Henry’s lips.
“I love you too,” he murmured, the words low, steady, certain.
They shifted a little, settling. Their bodies eased into stillness, warmth pressed close, breath slow and steady again.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
“Feels the way it’s meant to,” Hans murmured at last, his voice thick with sleep.
Henry smiled, his eyes already slipping closed.
“Ay,” he whispered. “It does.”
