d'enanigans: is calling it "the climax" too on point?

[nothing_to_fear]

This house has a very pleasant room for receiving honored guests.

In the fashion of House Shahrizai, the walls are richly tapestried (though not in identifying colors) and the couches are soft, finely upholstered. He has ordered the servants to stand ready with wine and light refreshment, and readier still to act should negotiations sour.

Jonathan sent a man to wait for Brix; he himself went upstairs to check on Matthieu. Finding him asleep, but well enough and in no danger, he returned to this room to wait.

He is reading a book of plants and their uses as they come in to light the torches.

Comments

[nothing_to_fear]

Jonathan's gaze flicks sharply to Brix for a moment.

Then he gestures to the man at his elbow, who begins to circle cautiously towards the door.

[gothamsheiress]

"My lord?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"Please, be quiet," he murmurs coolly.

[oneman_onevote]

From the other side of the door there is utter, innocent silence.

[nothing_to_fear]

His men are flanking the door now, standing cautiously back from it and attentive to any sound.

The silence stretches on.

Then, politely, Jonathan says, "Yes?"

[gothamsheiress]

Brix lifts her chin again, straightening, and wraps one arm around herself so that her hand rests on the concealed flechette.

"I hope," she says, each word distinct, "all three of you are being paid enough to make this worthwhile."

[oneman_onevote]

The door flies open into the room with potentially very painful force to reveal two very large, very armed and determined-looking men, who each have a crossbow loaded and pointed inwards with a certain degree of... intent.

"Everyone stay still!" calls one, still taking in the scene. "My lady, step back, if you would."

[nothing_to_fear]

Oh, wonderful.

Well, the leverage left to him is before him; Jonathan scrambles to his feet and lunges for Brix, reaching into his tunic for the knife concealed there.

[gothamsheiress]

Brix is on her feet as soon as Jonathan moves, but her blade is not quite so easily accessed. By the time she has it free, Grue de Agen is on her.

[nothing_to_fear]

He has absolutely no sense for scuffles, but one does one's best.

Currently, he's scrabbling to get his knife to her throat.

[gothamsheiress]

He succeeds.

But not before Brix manages to twist her hand in the front of his tunic and press the edge of her flechette to the pulse-point under his jaw.

[oneman_onevote]

The guards are well-trained, and even when Jonathan and Brix move they don't take their weapons off the two servants as they step into the room and each to one side to clear Havelock's line of sight.

(Davien has tactically retreated with Matthieu to an empty room nearby, because getting into a fight while encumbered with someone half-conscious is just stupid.

Also, Havelock nó Mandrake's expression has just gone so utterly blank that he's quite glad to remove himself.)

"You are outmatched, Grue de Agen," the courtesan says coolly. He has a sword in one hand, but it's the other he half-raises - holding the coils of a worn but functional-looking whip as if it an extension of his arm.

[nothing_to_fear]

Jonathan tries to stand steady, breathe steady, and keeps his knife leveled at Brix's throat.

Their standoff may be ridiculous, but it's the best he has.

His gaze flicks to the interloper, whom he recognizes-- trap, it was a trick. Hoarsely, Jonathan laughs.

"Am I?"

[gothamsheiress]

Brix laughs, too, harsh and humorless.

"If you think a blade to my throat is a threat, messire, you don't know me well enough at all."

[nothing_to_fear]

"Have you found Matthieu?"

This seems to be directed at Havelock, though Jonathan's not letting Brix out of his sight.

"I doubt he feels very sociable right now."

[oneman_onevote]

"If either he or Brix suffer lasting harm, you will die screaming," Havelock informs him with polite and glacial calm.

Neither of the guards twitch, but keep Jonathan's servants covered.

[nothing_to_fear]

The Sharizai servants are watching the proceedings carefully, warily; they keep an eye on the Mandrake guards, but their attention is on Jonathan.

"If I die screaming," he murmurs, "I won't be able to help him."

[oneman_onevote]

Havelock's expression doesn't change.

"Depends what you scream."

[gothamsheiress]

Coldly: "What's your price for helping him?"

[nothing_to_fear]

"Release my men," he says.

"Interrogate them if you must, of course. And as for myself ..."

His lips twitch.

"If you plan to kill me, I'd rather it be quick."

[oneman_onevote]

"Cooperate fully, and you live unharmed by my hand or those of my guards," Havelock counters.

He cannot speak for the royal guards, of course.

[gothamsheiress]

"Nor mine," Brix adds.

[nothing_to_fear]

Ah," says the man with an incredibly sharp blade at his throat.

"Well. That is a tempting offer."

"My lord," one of the servants begins, but Jonathan cuts across him mildly: "Stand down."

The two Shahrizai retainers look at each other.

Slowly, they lower their weapons.

[oneman_onevote]

The Mandrake guards step in to relieve them of their weapons, and Havelock sheathes his sword in what looks like a gesture of goodwill.

(It really isn't. He just wanted a hand free, and the whip is more versatile.)

"Good decision."

If a little disappointing.

"Allow Brix to step back, and drop the knife."

[nothing_to_fear]

Very slowly, his smile more like the faint, frozen edge of a sneer, Jonathan eases back and lowers his knife.