Consideration

Chp 42

I lay on my settee, tail over the curled back and my head and shoulders hanging off the foot. It was a comfortable position since I didn’t have bones to get in the way like a normal being. On my back, the hounds lay napping in a literal dogpile on top of me. In front of my face a window was open, and I was fiddling with a magic circle. It was a project I found relaxing, thanks to gaining Mira’s knowledge of magic.

That I was able to casually fiddle with it wasn’t a measure of skill on my part, but reflective of a recent upgrade. I gained twenty extra points over my tithe from the culling in the stone maze. Just like when I’d slaughtered the first bandits who came to my dungeon, I hadn’t felt pity for my victims. I wasn’t happy they died; a life was a life, but they were hunters dedicated to wiping out those their religion declared enemies. Or at least those they were told were designated as such.

Among the goods I took off the corpses had been a religious text, a book of Strom. It had a standard origin myth before veering off course and claiming all other gods were false or subordinate. The rest was drearily common instructions to obey, give the church money, and basic civil laws like don’t steal or murder. If anything, it felt like a watered-down version of Christianity cannon at an estimated quarter of the length of the new testament.

It honestly felt like someone with a shit memory for historical events attempting to recreate that lengthier work. The book being handwritten instead of printed also raised questions. Printing presses existed. Despite being the carved woodblock type they were still more efficient than hand copying. I’d also found some printed pamphlets in the gear of various soldiers. It clearly wasn’t an issue of Stromholt not having access to the technology.

My negative instinct was it was a method of controlling access. Like printing such texts in an uncommon language like Latin at the time back on earth. Refusing to let print copies be made meant the books would be expensive and difficult to get, so the owners would defend them as precious. If I wasn’t fairly certain 24 hadn’t existed prior to our first encounter, I’d have been tempted to think she was the architect. Too many of Stromholt’s traits innately pissed me off for it to feel completely like a coincidence.

Along with the book, I’d gained seventy points by the end of the slaughter. My new alignment seemed to have fewer negatives, but a lower reward rate overall to compensate. A situation I didn’t mind a bit. In the wake of my point-harvest, I didn’t spend any at first. I was busy tying up some details about the town’s layout and keeping an eye on the Lepusan.

Since they weren’t hostile, they didn’t prevent me from altering things like normal. I didn’t want them to see buildings moving about or the river changing though, so I had to be careful about when I did things and how much. Even though it was extra work, it was fun to watch them and the bone brigade interact.

Once things settled down I felt like celebrating. To kick it off I bought another level of mana upgrade to increase my daily output to 300. That left me with ten points, five of which I sunk into upgrading my interface. I’d been tempted at first to buy something else, but I wanted more utility. I was only getting minor improvements per level most of the time, but I still gained access to new features and expansions on old ones.

Though it didn’t seem like a big deal, it was the one upgrade I couldn’t afford to ignore. The mana increase was more expensive and second in priority but only by a narrow margin. It gave me flexibility in expanding my dungeon. I could only upgrade it two more times though. To go any further, I’d have to upgrade my core’s rank from E to D if I wanted to increase the amount.

The option to upgrade was grayed out though, which probably meant I needed to buy other upgrades first, like maxing out mana output. My last five points I saved in case of an emergency. It wouldn’t be good to use them all at once so early in the year. If things went well, I’d be able to earn more. If they went badly, I might not have that luxury though, so a stash would be useful.

On my back the hounds shifted, finally waking up after a long nap. Since I’d taken to laying on furniture and had fireproofed it, they’d developed the habit of laying on or next to me. Done being lazy, they showed themselves out after giving my face a parting lick goodbye.

The magic interface was interesting to play with. It had the same tabs as my crafting one did plus an extra one for research. There were six slots on the tab, and I could choose to fill two or more and initiate research on how they would combine. The remaining slots could also be used so long as I was using at least two at once.

It was interesting to see what kind of chimeras I could come up with, but the enhancement tab also had its charms. Instead of having to blindly upgrade things and hope they turned out how I liked, it showed the object’s development tree. It saved me grief and mana not having to guess about what I might be able to unlock.

Playing around as I tried to get a feel for my new system’s options, I wasn’t paying attention too much. I was waiting on a magic item to finish crafting before any of my current plans could be put into motion and it still had hours left. Despite the placid state of affairs, I heard my doorbell, but no one came in when I called out it was fine to enter.

Curious, I got up and headed to the antechamber where the teleportation circle was. I found a large and intricately carved box instead of someone. A darkly stained wood was carved to the point of looking like lace, revealing a lighter wood beneath. It was pretty and I was tempted to roll back my security feed and see who left it, but refrained.

Instead, I brought the box into my chamber of machinations and set it down on the writing desk. Opening it, I was surprised to find what seemed to be metal cut to look like lace. When I touched it though, I found artfully cut leather someone had applied metal leaf to. Curious still, I picked it up and found a smaller box underneath.

Amused, I opened the second box and found a crown inside of it. Spikes, roses, and small carved skulls with jewel eyes decorated it. I was so taken with it, I put it on immediately and went to check how it looked in my mirror. It probably would have hurt someone else to wear it, but my body was difficult to damage and insensitive.

I’d wanted to try wearing jewelry but hadn’t prioritized asking the skeletons to make me some or doing it myself. Going back for the dress I realized I’d been in too much of a hurry, the second box also contained earrings, a necklace, and gloves like delicately wrought gauntlets. I put them all on immediately, then tried to work out exactly how the dress went on.

Unlike the ones I was accustomed to, the designer had created it with my unique body in mind. The top portion was like an over the bust corset, but the lower section didn’t cover my waist completely. Instead, it was cut asymmetrically, so that it clung to my curves in some places but was totally open in others. My body looked like a silhouette normally, but this brought out the volume of it and didn’t connect across the hips. The leather was hardened in those areas, so it cupped my form and stayed put with only support from the upper section. Going back to the mirror, I found that I adored it.

A human would have been scandalously exposed, but I didn’t have that issue. I’d made sketches of things in a similar vein, but they hadn’t been so beautiful. I’d put little time into them and lacked inspiration since it was so low priority and personal. Now I wondered who’d been peaking at the designs, but knew it could have been anyone, since they were in the margins of documents and on scraps of paper I left laying on my desk.

I wanted to know, but felt like checking would be cheating, even as I couldn’t figure out who had made it. Or who the group was, it was entirely possible that it had more than one artisan behind it. As I spun around in front of the mirror happily, someone rang my doorbell again. Excited, I rushed over to see who it was.

“Mistress,” Chris greeted me with a formal bow when I arrived. That was enough to leave me stunned for several moments. I was reasonably certain I’d never seen him perform the gesture unless he was being sarcastic. A beat late I curtsied, and he looked at me with a smirk when he straightened up. Instead of his normal attire he was wearing a brocade doublet in black and violet, button front black jodhpurs, and knee-high boots. The doublet was partly unbuttoned revealing a violet cravat.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked as he offered me his arm. There was no way him showing up in formal dress had nothing to do with the gift I’d been given. He just grinned at me and said nothing as he led me to a teleport pad. Weirdly, it wasn’t the one for the boneyard and we were already at the matching one before I could think of which we had used.

“Announcing the arrival of Mistress 42!” Someone shouted and I jumped as a trumpet blared. I was standing in the alcove of the training hall in front of Andrea’s quarters. It had been designed like a fantasy feast hall instead of a stone box, but I hadn’t decorated it outside of some structural elements. Now banners and decorative displays of weapons adorned the walls along with flowers and fabric draped over the rafters.

It was a gorgeous transformation, but it didn’t hold a candle to the crowd in front of me as they cheered. The skeletons, with illusions up and not, had turned out in force and in their finest. Jewels on bones, rich fabrics, it was a feast for the eyes. One of the standouts was Dawn. Without her illusion up she’d applied gold gilding to her ribcage and legs in a streaky way reminiscent of dry brushing. Crystals or jewels adorned her brow bones and she wore a black and gold sash that draped from her left shoulder to her right hip where it formed an asymmetrical skirt and trailed down to the floor.

I looked at Chris in disbelief as he led me forward, still smirking. The crowd parted for us and I was led to a long table on a platform at the back. It was heavily laden with china, fruit, works of art, and flowers. Or at least I thought it was until I was sitting in the seat of honor. Looking closely, I could see everything I’d mistaken for food was glass or a wood carving and I felt deeply touched. It was a feast for those who didn’t eat.

“Won the honor in a duel,” Chris said, giving me a wink but not taking the seat at my side. Instead he bowed again and then headed to join the crowd. Looking at everything I felt like I should say something but lost my nerve as music began to play. I wasn’t left alone long, soon enough I was approached by the skeletons in pairs and groups, and individually as they came up to sit and chat. Some showed off what they’d contributed to the table’s decorations or the hall, others gossiped about what was going on in the valley.

Instead of standing around talking or breaking out extra tables to gamble on, the skeletons started pairing off to dance. I was entranced by the sight, though it wasn’t quite coordinated. Individual dancers were sometimes skilled but there wasn’t a consensus on exactly which dance they were doing. There were a lot of confused looks and whispering as they worked the kinks out and a few collisions. The atmosphere was light and more laughter than cursing could be heard.

Despite the beauty in front of me I found my attention drifting. Though I was never without company for long I was in the position of an observer of the festivities rather than a participant for the most part. A situation I couldn’t deny was usually my MO. Feeling like I’d get in the way I usually excluded myself on purpose. It wasn’t strange that no one was trying to pull me over into the gentle melee of dancers. Honestly, I didn’t really know how to dance. It just looked like fun and I felt jealous instead of shy for a change.

Though I wasn’t looking for anything with my restless gaze, I soon settled on something interesting. Off to the side in the back of the hall was a pair I didn’t expect to see. I used the feed to get a better look without outright eavesdropping. Andrea was dressed in her practice clothes and looked annoyed as she spoke with Chris. I had to wonder if the skeletons had forgotten to mention they’d be using the hall to her.

What held my attention was her relatively normal state of annoyance. It was Chris as he smiled casually at her. That wasn’t strange in and of itself, he could smile cheerfully while slitting a throat. What was surprising was how he kept looking away from her, arms behind his back and one hand gripping the wrist of the opposite one. Chris looked nervous.

“Shalala, don’t be shy! Chris, you gotta try to and be a decent guy. No more stabbin’ the girl ahha,” I thought as I hummed the tune happily to myself. I understood the pairing wasn’t likely and had some fairly enormous issues. Despite the problems, my enthusiasm at the prospect of Chris having a non-murder or brothel related interest could not be dampened.

To my delight, after a few minutes Andrea’s demeanor seemed to soften a little and she held out a hand to Chris. Patiently, she led him slowly through the steps of a simple waltz. He stumbled through them with unusual clumsiness. In league his reflexes and agility were not to be trifled with, but now he looked like a regular teenager trying desperately not to embarrass himself at Jr. Prom.

Doing my best to look anywhere but toward the pair, I ended up looking toward the balcony. I’d added access to it at both ends of the hall and decided to take a stroll. If I went out there, I could be giddy without possibly alerting the couple. Insensible to things like normal temperatures I felt the night looked like a cool one and found the scene before me pleasant. Down in the valley, there was a little folk festival for our Lepusan guests in progress.

A realization hit me then and I looked back toward the ball. Unlike before when there were only dungeon denizens in attendance, I couldn’t go down and enjoy the celebration in the valley. I smiled, touched they had set up something up I could be a part of without a disguise of some kind being involved. With my perfect night vision, I could see the entire valley stretching below.

It was only a small tinkle of crystal that drew my attention away from it. On my right, at the opposite end of the balcony, stood Henry, studying a crystal flute meditatively. I’d been restless during the party, but now I felt a sense of peace descend and watched him without saying anything for a few moments. I was used to seeing him dressed up, but he looked more casual for a change.

His hair was braided to one side and he wore the black side buckling quilted jacket he usually did when sparring with Andrea. Under it he was wearing a blue collared shirt with his usual pants and tall boots. I almost laughed. It was just like him to still look neat even when he wasn’t trying to impress.

“Good evening,” I said finally. Henry jolted, losing his grip on the flute. Panicking, he fumbled, the glass dancing out of his hands and on the edge of his fingers. Leaning dangerously far over the balcony wall, he just managed to snatch it back from the waiting abyss. The save left him teetering precariously, tilting slowly forward and unable to pull himself back.

“Oh fuck,” I said, hurrying over. Holding onto the railing tightly, I grabbed him by his sword belt and pulled him back to his feet. I felt a chilling relief as I let go of him, both of us safe. I hadn’t been in danger, but I still felt a shiver run through me. The drop wasn’t a small one, I couldn’t imagine enjoying the landing no matter how little I felt. Henry looked at me in a daze and I wasn’t much better.

“Are you alright?” Henry asked, suddenly looking at me with urgency. He took one of my hands and looked into my orbs like he was checking for a concussion.

“Dandy, why?” I asked, confused and a little angry. He was the one who’d nearly gone skydiving over a glorified cup. What reason could he have to look at me like something was wrong with me?

“Good,” He said, heaving a sigh. Despite my initial reaction, I couldn’t stay mad when he looked so relieved.

“You upgraded recently, I was- was w-worried you d-didn’t h-have command of- of your full powers,” He added. I felt a sudden sting of embarrassment and nodded, pretending I hadn’t been upset. I was about average in terms of strength so long as I had leverage, but it hadn’t been smart to grab him. Not when I could use the system to move him without risk.

“I… Just acted on instinct,” I admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. I was adjusted to the system and what it could do, but that didn’t remove my ingrained habits from when I had normal mass and legs consistently.

“Why did you go that far?” I asked, looking toward the glass.

“K-Katrina m-made it- it. I-If I b-broke i-it, I’d n-never hear- hear th-the en-end of it it,” Henry said. He glanced at the glass like it would bite. I was halfway to saying something about throwing himself off a balcony being a definitive end but stopped short. He would have just respawned. I must have been out of sorts to forget something so obvious.

“Want me to put it in her crypt before there are any more mishaps?” I asked. It was only by contrast I realized he sounded a little smoother when he spoke before he mentioned Katrina. She was a light sword specialized fighter, but I didn’t know her well. She’d been a late addition to the bone brigade and most of my interaction had been resetting her skill set by request so she could learn glass blowing.

“Please do,” he said gratefully. As he let go, I realized how long we’d been holding hands. He held it out to me, but I didn’t trust myself to receive it safely. Instead, I added it to my inventory directly before transferring it to a safe spot on a shelf in her crypt.

“So,” I started, faltering as I failed to think of what to say.

“P-Please excuse my- my appearance,” He said sheepishly before I could try again.

“The v-venue was ch-changed at- at the last minute. I-I was in-instructing An-Andrea when they c-came st-storming in,” He said and laughed, straightening his jacket nervously.

“I’ll overlook it if you dance with me,” I said, wanting to tease him a bit. I usually went around without wearing anything. In a position to judge others, I was not.

“Th-thank y-” Henry started only to fall silent, eyes going round in surprise. He was stunned that I hadn’t simply excused him, and I laughed. I thought it was cute, but I didn’t seriously intend to force him. Honestly, I didn’t even know if he knew how to dance, much less liked it.

Though I was being playful he looked utterly serious as he stood up at attention. Hastily, he tucked his shirt in properly and buckled his jacket. All the while he kept stealing looks at me. As if afraid he was taking too long. As if I’d get fed up and walk away or something absurd.

“May I have the h-honor of- of this d-dance,” Henry said, bowing to me as he extended a hand. I accepted, sinking slightly until my tail touched the ground. I focused, causing it to blur and split into a pair of legs. It probably didn’t matter to him. I felt like it would be cheating to ask to dance then just let Henry drag me about as I hovered.

He looked at me curiously, never having seen the trick before. I didn’t bother with it, except when I was extremely bored waiting for a crafting timer. Even then, it was mostly floating on my back and swinging them uselessly. Lifting our clasped hands high, his other hand settled on my waist, drawing me closer. I was expecting a waltz, where the dancers stood a bit apart. Instead, he drew me in until I was pressed lightly against his chest.

“Lead w-with the right, fo-follow w-with the left, and- and i-it’s easy enough,” He said, misunderstanding my dazed look.

“I might step on your feet,” I said, trying to pretend I was embarrassed about not knowing how to dance. That I really didn’t know added a great deal of realism as pretend embarrassment became real.

“D-don’t worry, I’m t-tough enough t-to survive it,” He said and laughed. I looked away, embarrassed and wondering if either one of us would even feel it if I did. I could feel his illusion, but his boots were real and unglamored. Giving up on worrying about it, I laughed, remembering Chris dancing. It was fine if we were having fun.

Henry led well, matching my pace and less graceful movements. Once I built up a little confidence, he even started showing me signals for things like twirls and dips. It was funny how easy things became with a little tap, high for twirls and low for dips.

“Ah!” I cried in surprise when he suddenly let go of my hand and used both to lift me. I was laughing by the time he started lowering me. Instead of feet touching down I bobbed lower than expected, my tail reverting in that moment of inattention after the surprise. I ended up putting my arms around his neck for balance. We both laughed as I floated back up to my normal height.

“T-too much?” He asked playfully and smiled gently. I laughed and shook my head, letting go of him and moving away. Dancing had been fun, but the simple pleasure of holding hands was something I’d keenly enjoyed. Despite knowing I could feel illusions, I’d stuck to adding them to things like furniture rather than trying skinship with the skeletons who had illusions of life.

Having enjoyed it, I felt reluctant to part and looked down at Henry’s hand, which was still holding mine. I hadn’t thought about it, but he normally wore gloves, which wouldn’t have felt like anything. Today he wasn’t wearing any and I spotted a familiar design on the back of his hand. The world killer that Laurel fought in an endless cycle. The same creature that coiled around Chris’s bicep from when he’d been the assassin of a nihilistic cult.

“Ah! I-I-I c-caaan-” Henry flinched back when he noticed my gaze. Covering his tattooed hand with his free one and choking on his words, he was panicking. Not knowing what to do, I was on the edge of doing the same. Giving up on a logical way to calm him down, I wrapped my arms around him. With his head on my shoulder, I just held on while he shivered and stuttered until he went quiet.

I didn’t know what was wrong or why. All I could do was wait for him to choose to tell me or collect himself enough to bury it until he was ready. It wasn’t a short wait, but I relaxed a little when he hesitantly wrapped his arms around my waist.

Since the first time he’d edited his appearance, he’d had a chance to redo it using the same method as Chris. He’d had at least two chances to remove the tattoo. Why he’d chosen to keep it only to hide it and panic when it was seen, I couldn’t guess.

As if the weight of it were dragging him down, he slid down the wall of the balcony to sit. Still worried, I didn’t resist and was soon sitting on his side, still facing him.

“Y-You’re n-not go-going to- to as-ask?” He muttered disbelievingly.

“You can tell me if you want, or not,” I replied without needing to think long about it. I’d been through something similar, but much milder with Chris. Or at least something that seemed milder. With Chris, it was hard to tell how he felt.

“I can’t forgive you for anything you might have done when you were alive. I wasn’t there. So, I’m also not going to judge you. What matters to me is what and who you choose to be now,” I continued. His grip on me tightened, but not enough to cause pain. Not that I’d ever felt pain, aside from the incident with the boon or upgrades, since becoming a Dungeon Master. It was, however, hard enough I could hear his bones creaking.

His grip loosened suddenly as he changed his hold, pulling me into a more normal hug. This time he didn’t seem to be trying to crush us together into a single creature and he’d stopped trembling. I let myself relax a little more, waiting for him to speak or push me away.

“Ch-Chris’s, it’s n-not the same,” Henry said in little more than a whisper. I nodded, accepting what he said without question. There would be time for that later.

“H-H-Ha-Hallen, s-sun k-king… S-Soldiers s-sworn t-to kiiill h-him,” Henry paused. Pulling back, he gave a grim smile, his eyes turning distant, like he was going to type a message.

“Henry, I’m not going anywhere. You can take your time and tell me,” I said, my hand going to the side of his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, his hand coming up to cover mine and hold it in place for a moment. When he let g,o he nodded, looking more determined.

“He- he c-called him-himself a- a god. S-so we be-became go-god killers,” Henry said, looking completely miserable. I wanted to tell him I didn’t know who that was, and I didn’t care. Instead, I stayed silent. Making light of his pain wouldn’t make it easier to bear.

“I-it was a- a mistake,” He said flatly. Slowly he explained what had happened. A seemingly wise king had turned mad in his later years and started inflicting torture and misery on the populace. The noble and common suffered alike, but it was in the commoners the fire of rebellion was lit. Taking up the serpent tattoos, the most ardent banded together and stormed the palace.

If it had ended there, the story probably would have been a heroic tale. Real life rarely had clean endings. The first rebellion brought with it a frenzy of anti-aristocratic revolution. The peasants revolted against their oppressors and the country drowned in blood for several years, only to collapse. The leaders of the revolution had become corrupt and the people had torn them down with the same zeal they hunted the nobles before them.

“St-starvation is- is u-ugly. F-former heros b-became v-villains. For-Former pa-patriots, traitors,” Henry said with a desolate grin as he touched his eyes. “The- the pe-peoples pu-punishment f-for the- the go-god s-slayers wh-who ruined e-everything. H-H-Hallen’s scorn,”

He’d left out details, but I knew how old he’d been when he died, and the scar wasn’t fresh. He’d been hunted and branded, then had to live with it. People buckled under far less than the scorn of a nation. Despite that, he’d still chosen to keep both the symbol of the revolution that ruined his life and the revenge of the people for whom it had been started.

I wanted to scrub them both away. Instead, I leaned the side of my head against his. I did my best to try and think of what to say. It was one thing to bear the weight of the things you’d done with your own hands. It was another to carry the guilt of something like the aftermath of a failed revolution.

“My f-f-father w-would laugh. My- my fo-form m-matches my- my s-soul now,” Henry added, and I stiffened. There was a lot to process with what I’d learned about his country. On the topic of his father though I had less complicated thoughts.

“A man who sends his son away to be a soldier out of jealousy is a fucking monster,” I said in a low and harsh tone. My leash on my temper slipping as I sat back so I could see his expression.

“T-that’s…” Henry started to deny. Seeing my orbs blaze he dropped his eyes, unable to continue.

“I never touched your skills. Everything you can do is a result of your own efforts,” I continued more gently.

“I can only imagine how insane he must have gone when you surpassed him and kept growing. It’s hard to pick up one discipline, you excel in at least three artistic ones that I know of,” I said bluntly. His penmanship, his skill with a needle, his drawing ability, and his quick mind were all enviable things. That he might have more he was hiding or considered unworthy was something I’d been concerned about for a while, but unable to do anything about.

Henry looked like he was going to argue with me for a moment, but then his expression turned thoughtful. I’d said his father, but his mother and extended family had let it happen as well. I could only imagine the awful environment he must have grown up in.

If I had the power, I might have been willing to use it to kill the lot of them. His family, the people who had scorned and maimed him, anything and everything that had led to the moment we were sharing. To reach blindly through time and slaughter faceless people in uncounted numbers. The feeling passed, but I had to wonder if this was anything like the hatred he’d once described to me; to wonder it totaled even a hundredth in measure compared to the consuming one that had driven him to tattoo the dragon of the apocalypse on his body.

It was a rootless feeling though, and I let it go. I couldn’t do any of that and probably wouldn’t have if I could, not really. What mattered wasn’t retroactive revenge against the long dead, but the man in front of me and the current moment.

“I can’t tell you what to do or how to feel,” I said quietly, as reason reasserted itself in my mind.

“Just like no one, you included, is going to convince me you’re a monster in any way that matters,” I finished. It was all I could say. I didn’t know anything about his former life, just the one he’d led since I’d summoned him.

“Y-You’re too… Y-You’re al-always sweet, no- no m-matter if- if i-it’s deserved,” Henry said.

“For a monster?” I asked.

“What? No,” Henry replied flatly.

“I literally am one, and you said you were honored to serve me. If you’re a monster, then doesn’t that mean I’m praiseworthy even among monsters? I must be a truly fiendish creature,” I pressed, wanting to give him a taste of his own gloomy medicine. I understood he’d just been through something I barely understood and had to still be processing it. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop me wanting to shake him every time he talked down about himself.

“I-I said that be-because y-you’re ex-expected to be cu-cruel and merciless. Re-Rewarded f-for i-it e-even. Y-Yet y-you take p-pains to- to a-avoid or lessen it. E-even t-take risks,” Henry said, becoming frustrated in turn. Even a little angry by how his jaw clenched. I sighed, knowing I was pushing things. Shifting around, I moved so I was sitting next to him against the wall.

“It’s pretty awful when someone you care about talks down about themselves, isn’t it?” I asked. His head whipped to the side and his lips curled in an angry retort that was lost in surprise a beat later. He looked at me, and I looked at him before turning my head away and leaning over to rest it on his shoulder. There was a pause before he huffed and rested his head against mine.

“Th-there’s a game, flyting. Y-you duel w-with in-insults in verse, the- the round’s lo-loser has to- to dr-drink. H-he’d always ch-challenge me, f-from the time I-I w-was tw-twe-twelve,” Henry said in a contemplative tone.

“Did you ever have to drink?” I asked. His father grew more charming with each new thing I learned about him.

“Not once,” Henry replied, sounding a little happy as he laced his fingers with mine.

“U-until now,” he added as he gave my hand a little squeeze.

“What? No. You haven’t lost,” I replied, confused.

“I t-truely ha-haven't” Henry said happily. I didn’t understand the, logic but I squeezed his hand back in reply.