Trials of Gideon Book 1: The Cursed Blade

Chapter 10: We travel to another time period which is insane

"I cannot believe you talked me into this."
"I can!" I bounce up and down, fist in my mouth.
"Yes, you're right I can as well," Oisin says, adjusting his cloak, as we walk up the drive of Berkhamsted Castle. Berkhamsted, like many of my favorite castles (that's a lie, I can't pick a favorite I love them all), is an old Norman structure. It'll maintain crown control through various states of disrepair. Edward III cleaned it up and used it while renovating Windsor, his own preferred castle. Then he gave it to his eldest son, Edward of Woodstock, our Black Prince. Together they'll put King Jean II of France there as a prisoner, and the Black Prince will use it whenever he's in England, eventually dying there. It'll remain significant to the Monarchy, though Richard II understandably doesn't occupy it, letting his cousin and then brother use it, though Henry IV will use it a good deal. Henry V tries not to be in the country, but Henry VI uses it as well as a retreat. I've been here a couple of times with him.
It's a lovely castle (all castles are lovely) with a nice circular shape. Just a good, sturdy, castle, with the main keep high on a hill. It's surrounded by acres upon acres of hunting grounds. There's a main, circular inner ward for small jousts and the like. It's reasonably defendable, though if you're a security nut you might want to make your home base somewhere else like Kenilworth. But for a nice country castle? Outstanding.
"We're seeking an audience with Prince Edward," I say, to the man at the gate. "He's not expecting us but he knows my name, Gideon Saint."
Oh please let this work.
Edward of Woodstock, Prince Edward. But the world will know him as the enigmatic Black Prince. He won't be called that moniker in the 1300s, more than likely. No, that's something chroniclers make up because they can't call him Edward IV because he never gets the crown. It's unclear where it comes from, his black herldic shield with three white ostrich feathers, there's rumor he jousted in black armor though that's unsubstantiated, or perhaps his complexion.. The French first use the term, but there's no reason to believe he was ever called that to his face, though the French may have used it to distinguish him from the other princes.
A model of chivalry, the ideal knight for decades, the Black Prince is a military genius. His tactics were revolutionary, and he's still studied to this day when we discuss military warfare. Unmistakably brilliant, he's a fair man off the battlefield. Not a gifted politician and likely would not have been a remarkable king. His talents lay elsewhere. But he's honest and fair to his subjects, and his soldiers, generous to those in his employ, and by all accounts a good husband and father. He'll remain friends with his family throughout his life, and he and his father are quite close. He'll predecease his father by a year, him in his mid forties. Not a young man, but certainly not old. It's unclear what takes him, it's rumored something from campaign or perhaps old war wounds. But he becomes weaker and weaker in his final years, unable to shake some illness, eventually fainting and becoming too weak to stand. Undiagnosed heart troubles? Diabetes? Some slow spreading cancer? It's the Middle Ages, your guess is as good as mine.
I don't know what year this is. I just traced the curse of the sword back another owner or two. And we wound up in the middle of England so it's likely in the Black Prince's custody.
Now, I don't know if he knows me. I met him briefly when he was like, twelve because I and my kids both were doing necessary shenanigans involving the start of the 100 years war. But, point being he might remember me? I'm pretty sure with the kids I'll wind up back here more, so I'm hoping I can slip on in. This is breaks every rule of time I'm sure. But I'm also running out of options.
We're escorted up to the keep. The guards are brisk, not really confirming or denying that we're wanted, but they are leading us into the castle so that's a good step. I'm busy looking around and nearly trip twice but Oisin catches my arm because he's a loyal friend.
"Prince Edward," the steward opens a door for us, stepping in to announce us.
It's a long hall, more fit for a feast than a study, with a huge wooden table. All now empty. A musician plays in the corner.
The Black Prince stands by the fire. A tall man, about six foot even, with black curly hair. He's lean, not broad, wearing now a long black, fur lined cloak and white shirt. He turns at the sight of us, smiling a bit, steady, dark gaze looking us up and down. He wears rings on his fingers but they are simple. He's nearly as dark as I am, with rich, swarthy skin that's likely part sunkissed, part his mother's complexion. The indomitable Philippa of Hainult was said to have 'brown skin all over' with black hair and eyes. Several of her strong sons will take after her, her eldest included. He's solidly half a foot taller than his blonde haired blue eyed sire, and of a more even temper as well, more of his mother's solid cleverness.
"Gideon—and Oisin isn't it? Come in, do," he smiles, motioning for us to rise as we both bow quickly, "It's been a moment, come sit down. I've got wine somewhere."
Oisin looks over at me.
I have my fist in my mouth.
"I really do just do whatever you think up?" Oisin mutters, not really a question. The prince's reaction confirms that we've been back here, before, but at a point before this.
"It is, very good to see you, my lord," I say, smiling. Yes it's remarkably good to see him. My childhood idol, and likely Henry V's as well given his fondness for the Black Prince's tactics. Oh and yes I am going to call him the Black Prince in narration because it's badass and I'm writing this so I'm gonna do it. Every time. We both know I'm not better than this.
"And you, one of these days they'll give me word you're dead and I'll not believe it—I don't suppose you finally have a tale for me how you got out of that dreadful storm?" He laughs, as a servant brings us wine.
"Ah—no, my lord I do apologize," I say, wincing. Oisin stares at me like he blames me for this thing we'll wind up involved in. I mean, it's gonna be my fault.
"No matter, what brings you all the way to Berkhampsted?" He asks, sitting down across from us. A few letters were out like he was reading them but he moves them aside now.
"A bit of a quest actually, I wanted to request your aid," I say.
"Fantastic, I didn't like what I was doing this evening anyway, tell me you're being hunted by Guals I'll pay you for the privilege of participating," he says, tipping his head back idly. His curls are cropped short, a mostly military hair cut. At the moment he's clean shaven, though there's a fresh scar across his chin and upper lip, likely prompting the lack of facial hair.
"We're trying to find a sword, which we think perhaps you have?" Oisin says, holding out the picture of it that he drew.
"Possibly, what's so special about it?' He asks, holding out a hand for the paper.
"It's cursed, and we're trying to beat the curse, so we don't actually need it, but for reasons we need permission from you, the owner, to use the sword," I say.
"I do remember this one—you should as well? No? Whatever, I feel like you were there. Got that in France, it is cursed so I don't use it," he says standing up, "Got it someplace though—ROGER—,"
"Well if you do have it—?" Oisin says.
"That may be enough," I say, hopefully.
"I don't know where it is though—ROGER," he goes to another door to shout out. He's going to a different door and preparing to shout when a boy rushes directly into him. "Oh, there you are."
"I heard, I'm here," the boy says, he's in sparring stuff, clearly was off practice fighting. Roger of Clarendon I presume, the Black Prince's illegitimate son. Nothing untoward, his mother a woman we'll only know as Edith, enjoys a fine standard of living and presumably quite likes her prince. They'll only have the one surviving son, Roger, who will be a knight and wind up supporting Richard II his baby brother and hanging out generally. When Richard is deposed Henry IV kills Roger. Roger's birthdate and all else is unknown, but the Black Prince provides for him and as far as we can tell likes him fine. Edward III will give Roger an allowance and employ him for a while as well, as knight of the palace, 100 crowns a year which is more than a fair sum for his eldest grandson. The Black Prince will leave him a feather bed in his will, we are going to assume that's an inside joke of some sort, as there's no proof Roger ever collected it.
"D'you remember what we did with that cursed sword?"
"Which cursed sword?"
"The one with the—," the Black Prince gestures vaguely.
"We got rid of it 'cause it was cursed," Roger says, frowning. He's nearly his father's copy, with thick black curls, and if anything darker skin. He's getting tall, but still clearly a kid, with a soft face and still decently shorter than his princely father.
"We did?"
"Yeah, the Countess said she didn't like it in the house so we got rid of it," Roger says. The Countess would be the Black Prince's wife, Joan of Kent, the Fair Maid of Kent. This is her third marriage, so she too has older children. She and the prince were childhood friends, they're well aware it's a business transaction, marriage, he needs a wife and heirs and they get along well enough.
"Did your mother say to get rid of it as well?"
"No, she believed us when we said we didn't know why the stuff kept happening. But the Countess said she didn't like it in the castle so we got rid of it."
"Was that with the stuff I gave to John?"
"Yeah, I think so. I don't remember."
"You're right I think it was—boys, looks like I don't have it anymore, gave it to my brother," the Black Prince says, calmly, messing up his son's hair, "He's in the country, Roger, fancy going for a ride?"
"Yeah, I've got to put this down."
"Yeah, go on, meet you at the horses—,"
"You really don't have to do this," I say, "We can—,"
"Yeah we'll think of something else," Oisin says.
"I've not bothered my brother in ages, it's only my brother John, you like John you remember that don't you?"
"No, unfortunately," I say.
"Well you do. I promise, it's fine he's not far."
An hour's ride is actually kind of far, but not far enough for me to figure out what castle we're going to. I'm assuming it's Wolverton but I'm not sure.  Wolverton would be close? Enough? No maps that I've found survive for it, it's a Norman structure though.
It's getting dark by the time we arrive, so I can't make out any distinguishing features. We took a reasonable entourage, most of the knights in the prince's employ were more than glad of the errand apparently it was considered more of a treat than anything to go.
There's firelight, and music coming from the grounds. Some sort of party going on? I can hear people chanting and laughing.
"He'll be somewhere, follow me," the Black Prince says, undeterred by the the number of people swarming the castle. He's dressed mostly simply, so the regular folk don't seem to recognize him I assume this is by design.
"Have you seen the Duke of Lancaster?" The prince asks, catching one serving boy by the arm.
"No, m'lord," the boy recognizes him and bows hastily.
"No matter, go on."
Duke of Lancaster, immortalized as John of Gaunt. John is the third surviving son of Edward III and Philippa, but with two older sisters and brothers who survived infancy he's solidly a middle child. Educated as highly as his siblings, he was never expected to be king. However, his mother and father will honor his gift for mathematics and finances, letting him manage his own estate from a young age. They weren't of the mind to marry off any of their children, but young John would request to be married well, and won the heiress to the Lancaster fortune, Blanche. He'll quickly become the richest man in England, through shrewd investments, advantageous marriages, and cunning business practices.
A womanizer since his youth, he'll have affairs with his mother's serving girls, having a child out of wedlock in his teens. He'll never change his ways, having at least one or two live in mistresses his whole life. Nothing creepy, as a rule they're all his age or about, and he supports them and his illegitimate children. But we still don't have track of how many illegitimate children he has. By the 21st century, anyone with properly old english lineage can trace their ancestry to John of Gaunt, that's how much progeny this man had, and incidentally slightly what causes the war of the roses.
Ten years younger than the Black Prince, he'll have done his knighthood training under his famous brother. The two will remain close their whole lives, and he'll go on to be highly protective of the Black Prince's sons and step sons, taking care of them after his elder brother's untimely death.
He never would have been called John of Gaunt in life. Shakespeare used that, nobody else. His birth place was Ghent, while his parents were traveling, but it's unlikely anyone would have cared to use it. His family is calling him by his name, and anyone else would use his proper titles, Duke of Lancaster, and wherever else he currently has property. Brother, son, and uncle of Kings he'll call himself, though son, father, uncle, and grandfather of kings is more accurate.
His contemporaries will call him the Randy Prince, which they absolutely will call him to his face if they are stupid enough. Randy means horny. The men will be increasingly less fond of the power this man holds over most anyone he wants to seduce, namely their wives. Again, no reason to believe this wasn't consensual. All the women whose accounts we have, were having a fine enough time. Philippa of Hainult raised her boys right, not one of them has any creepy behavior.
But aside from his extra curriculars, our John is entirely whom Henry V takes after. He'd love his grandson's head for numbers, and thirst for power. John would never want the crown, because frankly if he'd wanted it he would have had it. Even by now, he'd be able to buy and sell his big brother the crown prince and his father, a couple of times over, with his net worth well into the billions of today's money. Familial affection, or was he merely content?
He'd likely be a little confused by his grandson and great grandson's general lack of interest in women, but otherwise Henry V is quite his little clone. He's not quite as frugal as his warlord grandson either. He does love amassing money, but this family's motto is go forth and have a good time. Edward III and the Black Prince are known for lavish parties and generally rewarding their soldiers well, along with being lenient to their people and generally not heavy handed with taxes. They love being rich, sure, but they see the point of having money to be spending on having a good time, war or otherwise. John will be more interested in amassing it, though he's fully content to fund his hobbies. Geoffrey Chaucer, once a serving boy at the palace, according to legend was bringing wine, when Edward III and several of his intoxicated children, dared Chaucer to drink a barrel of wine. When young Chaucer obliged, the royals were so amused they adopted him as their pet for the rest of his life. John would win the custody battle for him, as a rule, taking him back to the Lancaster estates, commissioning 'Book of the Duchess' about his deceased first wife Blanche, and marrying Chaucer to one of the Swynford sisters (John was likely sleeping with both sisters, as in we like, definitely think that was happening as he funded both their children and all the kids looked like him). Yeah, that story is believed to be true, that's how they got him, and also not at all out of character for this family to just adopt someone they find amusing. Incidentally it's why I came here for help. Be entertaining enough with a good enough cause these guys will usually help you out. John is a bit crueler than his father and elder brother, but he's nothing like his horrible grandson who I deal with constantly.
Clearly the patriarch of our Lancaster clan is not immune to a good time. We're wading our way through a courtyard of drinkers, dancers, and merry makers. Though after a moment I realize this is all entertainment. Aside from some castle staff this is entirely a show that's being put on. There are no guests. This is a party for the household. Or just one person. Yes, just one person.
In the middle of the courtyard, watching the festivities, is the founder of the Lancaster line of kings, the one responsible for half the mean and petty DNA circulating throughout England for the next two hundred years. Shakespeare will call him John of Gaunt, to us he's the Duke of Lancaster. A big man, several inches past six feet tall, and broad as well, not heavy, just thick. Like the Black Prince, he has deep, black curly hair his is longer than the military cut, and his skin is smooth and a soft brown, a bit fairer than his brother though that may be lack of exposure to sun more than genetics.
He's currently dressed in very fine robes, and is reclining on cushions with about three women, who are laughing and kissing him.They're all in various states of undress. So this is what an orgy looks like, okay. Everyone is having a good time. I didn't need to see this. I've already got my hands over my ears so I can't cover my eyes. Roger similarly has had his hands over his ears and eyes almost closed. His father just as a matter of form has been guiding him through the crowed by the balled up back of his jacket. Oisin, noticing us both, covers our eyes, helpfully, since we're busy covering our ears.
"JOHN," the Black Prince shouts over the music, having no problem disturbing his little brother.
"I didn't know you were coming tonight, Ned," John laughs, disentangling himself from the women and moderately fixing his clothing. Oisin uncovers our eyes cautiously.
"Nor did I," the Black Prince embraces his little brother. Again, I've made the note before, but to be clear, Shakespeare lied to you a bit, family members aren't gonna call each other their titles in private conversation. Maybe to identify who they're going to see or if they're requesting someone, but they're gonna use each other's names, or a shortening there of. The brothers, though princes and one senior, are going to call each other their actual names. 
"Ah, Gideon," John waves at the music and it quiets down, a little, "What do you want and how much is it worth to you?"
"Oh good he knows us," Oisin breaths, not pleased I don't think.
"It's probably worth a lot," I say. I'm not opposed to another side quest.
"D'you remember that cursed sword I sold you a few months ago? The boys need to borrow it or something, I've been assuming some errand father sent them on, but they didn't actually say that," the Black Prince says, idly. As stated above, their father is King Edward III, but he's their dad, they're not gonna say 'the king' unless they're in a public setting or something like that.
"It does involve a member of your family, my lords," I say, slowly uncovering my ears. Roger does the same, frowning.
"You sold me several—Roger my boy what did it looked like?" John asks, beckoning his nephew.
"It was hand and a half all steel the hilt was—," the Black Prince begins.
"Shh, I've been drinking since the sun came up it will not make sense from you—Roger which one was it?" John asks, waving at his brother idly. Not all royal families are this close, many are, but this particular one is especially cohesive. They go their separate ways, but they'll always get on and back each other up.  And John is as I said the middle child, and a bit spoiled by their parents, and these two lived together for a time they tend to get on.
"It had Latin around the handle, and the hilt was a bit blue, you paid us five crowns," Roger says, quickly. Gideon, he's illegitmate, why are they all treating him like a member of the family? Well, because contemporary sources also lied to you. In the Middle Ages illegitimate kids were common, nay expected. About all it meant is that you didn't inherit, though as a rule your parent would give you titles or land or an allowance or whatever. Now, there's always gonna be good and bad parents in the world. That aside, the majority of folk, are not going around acting like the illegitimate kid isn't theirs. Roger's name will be mostly lost to history save a few odd notations and payments, however, at the time he would have been one of the many fixtures in the court that are also lost to history. Considering he gets to spend his time doing as he likes, with all the financial support of his father's birth, jousting, and going on campaign if he wishes, there's no real tragedy to it. And the Black Prince would have no reason to be embarrassed to present him, there was again no real stigma against having a mistress, and if anything it's proof he can father a legitimate strong son when he eventually marries. I think he's married by now, but the point stands. This is a kid who can hang out, go on campaign, joust, and you don't even have to preserve him to rule a country or something boring. This is the fun kid.
"Ah, yes, that one, thank you boy, see? Non technical, and with a monetary amount attached, remember it clearly, I sold it as I said I would why?" John asks, pleasantly, tugging on Roger and playfully covering his ears for him. The shy boy actually smiles at this.
"Did you? They were looking for it," the Black Prince says, shrugging a little, amused if anything at the exchange.
"Yes we were," I say, knowing fully well he's lying. Can't prove how though, because there are two people who ABSOLUTELY cannot know about the time travel, John of Gaunt and his damn grandson Henry V, they cannot know. So. I can't prove it. But he's lying. Why?
"Shame," Oisin glances at me, he knows he's lying too.
"Yes, you told me to sell it so I did, it was cursed you said spirits kept materializing and Joan was upset so you wanted it gotten rid of? And Joan talks to Blanche so it's not as though I could keep it," John says, picking up a glass of wine to better marinate his lies.
Gideon, you're making it sound like all the Lancaster men do is colonize, be dramatic, drink hot wine, and lie. That's correct that is pretty much all that they do.
"Okay, so far as my wife is concerned we still don't know why that was happening, and are just grateful it stopped," the Black Prince says.
"You said she didn't believe you?"
"She didn't," Roger says, softly.
"But that doesn't mean we conceded anything, when I brought that back she said 'none of that had better be cursed', so I can't admit it now, it's too late, it's not that she doesn't know but she'd be disappointed that I finally gave in, it's been three years even Edmund acted confused when she asked him and he had no context beyond me previous telling him I had some cursed things; I think she's proud of our dedication at this point, she says I'm terrible at lying this will show her," the Black Prince says, accepting a cup of wine, completely pleased with this line of reasoning.
"I'm excellent at lying—,"
"I know she doesn't believe anything you say it's brilliant, on a related note will you write to her and tell her you think I'm dying? It'll lift her spirits immensely she'll assume I'm cured," the Black prince says, rubbing his chest with a fist. I wince a little. Old war wounds? Or something else internal? He clearly knows he's ill.
"I need more wine to comprehend that one. Anyway, as I clearly don't have what you're looking for, is there anything else I can do for you?" John asks, clearly lying. Well I think it's clear, but I know his grandson and that fucking smirk they both have when they're saying something that you both know is not true but you can't prove is not true. So, you know, their resting face.
"You to stop kidnapping my son?" The Black Prince asks.
"You have more! The girls drove away their last tutor so they've no one to practice with and I don't want to be whacked with little wooden swords and this is agreeable and trainable doesn't talk back or anything very quiet almost like having you about," John says, sort of shaking Roger who smiles, ducking his head shyly. John of Gaunt will have several illegitimate girls at this point, and maybe even a couple of legitimate ones. He may have baby Henry IV, but he'll be an infant probably based off of everyone's ages? Similarly, the Black Prince and Joan of Kent probably have at least their first born son, Edward, if not baby Richard II, by now. He would also have at least two other illegitimate sons with Roger's mother, but they've likely passed by now,  they were born during the plague and didn't live long. The Black Prince would have five sons, but only two would live to adulthood, Roger and Richard, not clear if there was something genetic there or not. John of Gaunt also would only have a couple of sons of many born, live to adulthood. Infant mortality rate was high at the time, but even so, not all of them died as infants, just in the first few years of life, and all boys. The Black Prince had no daughters and John of Gaunt's daughters were numerous and relatively healthy.
"No, for one thing we're doing something at the moment—,"
"What are you doing—-?"
"Never you mind you'll find out later or no depends on my mood—also get me drunk enough, and I will stay over and recruit you for the thing I'm not telling you about," the Black Prince says, idly.
"I can manage that—wait what is you're doing? Is it going to cost me money?"
"How should I know? I mean I suppose most things cost money does that matter before you find out what it is?"
"Yes—? I'm not made of money and that's probably the only reason you're letting me help."
"Last someone like Izzy, bothered to explain it to me, I got the first and last bits, you are essentially made of money."
Reader, he is absolutely made of money. Izzy would be Isabella, their sister, she's exactly two years younger than the Black Prince so, she and he have a twin thing going on they're pretty close and get on their whole lives, their kids are the same age, her youngest girl and Richard will be best friends.
"We should be going, thank you my lords," I say, bowing quickly.
"Off on your quest? Good luck," John of Gaunt smiles charmingly like one does when ones vocabulary is made of lies.
"My lords," Oisin says, bowing as well.
"Good luck," the Black Prince says, nicely.
"My lord," I bow one more time before we both bolt.
We escape the party quickly, wandering into tree cover to talk in private.
"He's lying," Oisin says.
"Yeah I know, he's a Lancaster that's what he does," I sigh.
"Why?"
"I mean, I'm assuming like he said he told his wife he didn't have it. So, that's why he's just lied on impulse then had to stick with it when he found out we needed it, otherwise he'd have tried to sell it to us," I sigh.
"Do we go back and confront him when he's alone? We know he has it," Oisin sighs.
"No, I'm not in the mood. Either he or Prince Hal are going to charge us for it, we might as well deal with the nightmare we are used to, who just sustained a traumatic brain injury. He at least needs the money, so he might be inclined to sell it, also I don't want Gaunt catching on to what we're doing," I say.
"Agreed, he's at the moment more powerful than his horrible grandson," Oisin says, shrugging, "And we're not even supposed to be in this time."
"Yeah, that was a dead end," I say, as much as I may personally have enjoyed visiting the Black Prince again.
"Prince Edward was nice," Oisin shrugs.
"He's cool, he's one of my favorite people."
"You can say you love him."
"I love you too! He's just very awesome," I say, drumming my hands happily.
"I agree. He's the oldest though—right? So his—,"
"His eldest surviving legitimate son, Richard, will become Richard II, at the age of like, ten when his dad and grandad have passed. Richard II rules till he's in his early thirties, when Henry IV deposes him, for reasons, not good ones, but reasons," I sigh, "Yes, Henry IV is John of Gaunt's eldest. So those brother's sons? One murders the other."
"What he gets for naming him Henry I suppose? Bloody family," Oisin says.
"Yeah ah, couple of contributing factors there. Mostly Henry IV wanted the crown, Richard's not a perfect king, he's a bit like his father he's not a schemer, he's even necessarily a great politician, but he does try. Henry IV is exiled, with his father John of Gaunt's blessing, after getting in a duel with a fellow noble, the duel is his fault by the way. Anyway, while he's exiled his dad John of Gaunt dies, and Richard makes it so Henry has to come back and ask for the lands back. It's a bit of a dick move. But Henry responds by overthrowing Richard, locking him away and starving him to death," I say, sighing, "I think bit of an overreaction and for the most part, Henry's the bad guy in that scenario, it was Richard's crown and Richard may have been making some mistakes as king but he wasn't a tyrant, he wasn't executing people left and right, if he had he might have lived longer. If you want you can join me in eliminating Henry IV from the mass of Henry's calling him ThatBitch in your head. It's what I do. Because I think Richard would find it funny."
"I will join you, I agree also he fathered my least favorite person."
"I mean—yeah we can count that among his crimes sure, go ahead."
"What about that little boy? He's natural right or does he die early?" OIsin frowns.
"Oh, yeah, Roger's Prince Edward's natural son, his longtime mistress and we're assuming true love since she lived with him most of their adult lives and had several children—anyway, Roger remains in service of the crown. Marries well enough no children his wife dies. He also actually gets in a duel, poor Richard all his relatives get in duels they're bored, anyway, Roger remains loyal to his baby brother the king the rest of his life. We know little about him but, ah, Henry IV kills him, well, has him executed. Roger's trying to get support to go save Richard. And he's beheaded," I say.
Oisin sighs a little, looking back at the lights of the party.
"Same thing with Richard's maternal older brother, First Duke of Exeter? He like Roger was trying to save Richard, Henry IV had him killed. His son is our Duke of Exeter, you know Henry V's lackey," I say, gesturing vaguely.
"Right, oh okay so he's—cousins of royalty?"
"Yeah like, something like that, the royal family becomes a web mostly special thanks to John of Gaunt and his libido," I say, "Don't even try to understand it, I'll update you as we go, like understanding it is half the reason I'm crazy."
"You're not crazy," Oisin says, reaching out an putting a hand through my hair. I lean into it because I like to be cuddled.
"Want to get back to 1403? That whole story makes you excited to to put one over on that branch of the family eh?"
"I mean I was excited anyway, yeah sure. What's our plan? Get an audience with the prince and offer to buy the thing from him?"
"Now, when you say it like that it sounds destined to fail."