Even in shock, her knights knew better than to take their eyes off an enemy. But they still felt the need to share their confusion, so they simply threw confused glances at the closest person on the other side of him, so that they wouldn't miss a single movement. His words had rattled them all, though, their emotions now clearly visible. Only two people in the room were keeping theirs in check. Him, and her.
That didn't stop her thoughts from spiraling, though. Why? Why now? Why like this? What had the duke done to finally break his son's loyalty, and why did he still manage to get away? More importantly, or at least that's what she told herself, how did he think he was going to arrange killing the duke? There was no way the duke wouldn't know his son ran off. A traitor remaining at the ready, then?
She cut through her own thoughts with careful measured words. "So you have come here to extract a price for betraying your father. An act that will end the war between our houses." She made a performative sigh. "An act you should have done free of charge in my opinion, but instead you put a price on your honour."
A taunt, deliberate, mean, cruel. She saw a few folks wince at her words, a barb more vicious than she had ever delivered before. But those with eyes on her could no doubt see her face was still emotionless. And, unfortunately, so was his. Her attempt to rattle him had slid off him like a glancing blow to plate.
"Very well," she said, "let's end the pleasantries." As if either of them had been pleasant. "So just to be clear, if we make a deal tonight, you will arrange the death of your father? Bring me his head?"
He didn't even nod, keeping his head and eyes fully facing hers. "On a silver platter." She heard gasps, not bothering to remember who as she understood the sentiment. He just fully committed to disgracing Duke Flameheart even in death. And she recognised that tone of his, emotionless yet resolved. This was a promise on the battlefield. The last time she heard him like this, it had been in a duel for her honour and he had told his opponent the man would never be able to wield a blade again. True to his word, the man could barely hold his cutlery even now. He meant this. And it filled her with both joy and dread.
"Very well," she said. If he was that serious, more barbs to put him off balance were both useless and disrespectful of his resolve. "Advisors, pay heed. Marquis Flameheart, state your terms." Her four advisors sheathed their weapons, leaving the others to remain ready to attack.
The recipient of this distrust showed no sign of caring. "Three conditions. First, the lives of my personal guard." She saw understanding nods from two of her advisors. "Second, leniency for our troops. Third, a respectful treatment of our people." It took her a lot of effort to not furrow her brows in response to those terms. She idly wondered if her advisors had managed to do the same. Her knights were more open about their confusion, and in some cases, their realisation.
"Succinct as always. You use words that carry a different meaning in Flameheart lands, so let me describe how I think you mean them, and correct me if I misunderstand." Not a request, not really an order, more a statement of how this would go. Again he didn't even nod, but his lack of response served as a form of agreement.
"The western interpretation of lives is different than ours. You do not just mean to spare their lives, but to grant them their freedom. No ransom, no commandeering of their possessions, no consequences for the act of serving you. Essentially a partial pardon. Only cruelty in battle would be excluded of this, as freedom of me would not mean freedom of consequences. In your words, I grant them their lives. Correct?"
"Correct, your Grace." He kept his response short, far shorter than she would have expected. As if he was trying to avoid having his words give anything away of his intentions. He still used the proper form of address though, to show no disrespect. She put that aside as a piece of the puzzle she had yet to solve.
"Leniency for 'our' troops means to go easy on all troops that Flameheart commands, and no extra descriptor means not just those already in our custody. In other words, do not punish them for having taken up arms against us, only judge and punish them for the way that they have done so. You ask not of a pardon, simply for us to not be overly harsh in our treatment. I cannot help but notice you did not mention your nobles in your terms. Explain."
This time it was a clear demand, which he responded to with as much of a shrug as one could manage without any movement or emotion. "All I can ask of you is that you treat them fairly. The rest is in their hands." A request, not a term. Their fate would not be a part of their negotiation tonight. Either he had lost his patience with them, or he had faith in their abilities to avoid her wrath. She wondered which it was. Both, mayhaps.
She kept silent for a bit, choosing her words as carefully as he was choosing his. She still had no idea what he was after in this battle of wits and words. Truth be told, she expected to lose from him tonight. Despite coming to her domain, he had still prepared well and put her on the back foot. All she could do was extract as much as she possible could out of him, while giving away as little as she could. "And you?"
His face softened, a tad of the old him showing. Emotions now noticeably present, even if he held them back. Sorrow, regret. Love? She shoved the thought away as he spoke, his tone now gentle, yet still as determined as some moments before. "The mere idea of you possibly treating me less than fair holds such offense that none should ever dare utter it to me." Should. Not would. So someone had. She put that morsel of information with the rest of the puzzle, as she nodded softly.
His emotions slipped away, the mask once more in place. It took her a heartbeat longer to do the same, before continuing her summary. "Respectful treatment of your people. Meaning no pillaging, no unneeded violence, no taunting. And also of import, especially in combination with leniency for the troops, not leaving them defenseless against your other enemies. You specify the treatment of your people. There is only one way that such a term would matter for house Verglas. You are implying a full surrender. Not merely reparations but actually ceding control. That is why you bring up your troops, your people, your nobles. Because you intend to let us take control of your home. But you are not offering that intent as part of the deal tonight. Am I correct?"
Her tone had grown harsher, colder, as she spoke those lines. She detested the way he was hiding that extra meaning, forcing her to drag it out for the world to see. It took her a lot of effort to not throw more sneers at him. He noticed, of course, but still acted as if none of it could faze him. Again he confirmed without even nodding, just emotionless words. "Correct, your Grace."
Still giving her nothing to figure him out. She hated him right now. Who would have thought that even if he offered her what she had wanted for years, he'd still make her hate him through the execution.
