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137. Deal you can't refuse
🕑 Added 2025-12-26 22:43:01 +0000 UTC“Ah, Mr. Samuel,” Emmanuel greeted, a wide smile across his face. “Please join us.” He then pointed to an empty chair carried over by one of the servants in the room.
Q’Shar observed Sam, trying to read anything from his moves—any hint as to what had happened and whether they were in the clear or completely fucked. But Sam’s face was relaxed into the same cold, slightly arrogant expression he wore when not controlling his facial muscles.
Sam sat down beside him and relaxed into the chair.
“So, now that the man himself is here, let us talk,” Riswalt said, and Sam nodded.
Q’Shar turned back to Emmanuel, waiting for what came next.
“I’ve heard that political subtleties and games are lost on you, so let me be blunt. You lost. The commotion you caused in the Aquientie mansion will bring the Sabbath authorities, and all our men, as well as the Aquientie, will testify that you were there and fought with them. Of course, all of that could be forgotten—assuming we come to an agreement,” he finished with a smile.
“And why would we do that?” Sam asked over raised eyebrows.
“I don’t think you understand what you did,” Riswalt continued. “Not only will you still lose the vote, you also attacked a family that voted for your rival. All your voting rights can be stripped from you… if we move forward with the accusation, of course…”
“You kidnapped a daughter of your political rival. Aren’t you afraid of your rights being stripped?” Sam asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious animal.
“Lies,” Emmanuel said in a flat, mocking tone. “We didn’t kidnap anyone. I guarantee you the Aquientie girls are all with us of their own volition, as our families will soon be joined in matrimony.”
“Not even Rosalia?”
“We would never.”
And then, finally, after all the hours, constant tension, and political debate, Q’Shar relaxed. It was the first time he relaxed upon seeing Sam make this face. He had been around the man for some time and had learned to read his expressions quite well. The one he was wearing right now, the cat had seen only a few times. But each time, it was a harbinger of something nasty, usually a sign someone was about to die or get fucked over.
“Oh. But you seem to have misplaced her,” Sam said, the corners of his mouth rising further.
“I can guarantee you she is safe and sound with my family—no need to worry,” Emmanuel reassured, but his eyes narrowed slightly, probably sensing something wasn’t right.
He had good political instincts, and apparently Sam’s twisted expression was enough to plant a seed of doubt in his heart.
“Oh, do you now?” Sam asked with a wide smile. “Tell me—is she still unconscious? Having trouble waking her up? Or did your men not report that to you?” Sam asked and looked to one of the servants standing behind Riswalt, before turning to Q’Shar. “Which one of them got here in the last hour?”
The cat lazily pointed at one of the men holding a tray with tea ready.
“Is she still asleep? I do hope so. Tell me—does she seem strangely silent? No matter where you carry her or try waking her up, she never even groans?”
The servant tried to keep his face still, but slight confusion could still be seen as he looked at Riswalt.
“What are you insinuating?” asked the man, the smile gone and his eyes narrowed.
“Not to brag, but she was one of my best works. And all I had to go on were some photos from Q’Shar’s files and social media. But the voice—see, the voice is a tough one. I mean, working the vocal cords takes skill, and I’m not that experienced with it, embarrassing as that is. I didn’t have anything to go by for her voice, so I didn’t give her any.” Q’Shar watched with growing amusement as the man’s face dropped slowly but surely as Sam spoke. “I mean, I’m really thankful that you don’t have any perverts in your employ—well, aside from your sons, that is, but you know, apples and trees and whatnot. If any of those men looked under her clothes? Oh boy. I barely had time for the face, forget about hiding the scars. It’s a mess under those fabrics.” Sam shook his head as if in regret. “Do you know how much bone-sawing it takes to turn a grown man into a teenage girl?”
“You’re lying,” hissed Riswalt. “They would feel if she didn’t have a spark.”
“Who said she doesn’t? The subject didn’t die. I’m skilled with a knife… And I have notes from one of the best abomination artists in history. Nowhere near his skill, though,” Sam finished with actual regret this time.
“You didn’t leave with the girl, nor with any extra members. You don’t have her,” Riswalt pressed.
“Maybe I’m bluffing.” Sam shrugged. “But if I’m not, and you did what my feline friend predicted you would, then… oof.” Sam winced at the end.
Riswalt’s eyes turned to the cat, who, for the first time in hours, was lying stretched on the pillow.
“Well, Mr. Riswalt, you did us the courtesy of not playing games, so let me play open cards as well, so that our conversation isn’t lost on my client.” Q’Shar adjusted the cushion and, stretching lazily, looked at the man, savoring his anxiety after hours of his own. “You see, I think—and correct me if I’m wrong—that you heard about the attack and decided to use it as leverage. You could have just left the girl in the mansion and your men in place, and you would have won, but Mr. Riswalt, you’re not the type of man to do that, are you?” He asked over raised eyebrows and continued. “No. I looked through your deals, arcane and business. And I believe I have an accurate image of you.”
The cat smiled at him, showing his sharp teeth.
“You are far too greedy. You wouldn’t pass by an opportunity like that. I think you pulled out most, if not all, of your men and moved some of the Aquientie back into the mansion so that it looks like an attack on their men. And then you called the Sabbath authorities. That would be enough to at least lower our voting rights, if not lose them entirely. Of course, you can’t leave the girl with the Aquientie, and you can’t exactly transport the massive golems. So you have two options. One—you use a safe house in the city. That is the easiest option, but if we find out its location, getting through your men would be easy. Of course, we wouldn’t have a way to do that, but… that thought lingers, doesn’t it? The strange magic of the Alhazred household—what if… what if we find out where you transported her? All your plans go to shit.”
The cat let the silence hang for a few seconds. Riswalt kept silent, his face a mask.
“For all your greed, you are also a cautious man; all your deals show a bit of restraint—a backup plan for that greed. So I think you did what you thought was a genius move: you moved her into this hotel.”
Finally, the man flinched, and Q’Shar smiled.
“There was what—two hours till the vote when she arrived here? We can’t march onto your floor; there are guards everywhere. Even if we told the sabbath authorities everything and had them check the rooms, all you’d have to do is move her into some other room in the massive hotel. We wouldn’t be able to do anything in the remaining two hours. And a last-ditch attack? Possible everywhere in the city—everywhere but in this hotel. Great move. But only if you have the girl…”
Riswalt kept his eyes locked with Q’Shar’s, the servants tense as the atmosphere became electric.
Q’Shar finally continued in slow, measured words. “You see, in a few minutes, my client’s ‘creation’ will wake up. It was created on an empty stomach, and it’s going to be… ravenous. So I’m really hoping you didn’t put it with your own family members, or some close allies—the kind you would entrust the girl to.”
Riswalt nodded at one of his men, but Sam stood in front of the door.
The man stopped, looking at him awkwardly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Riswalt asked, clearly outraged.
“I’m just standing here—can’t I stand where I please?” Sam asked, as if he didn’t know what the man was on about.
“This is childishness,” Riswalt roared.
The servant tried to move forward, but Sam let the staff unravel. “I might take physical contact as an attack. I’m jumpy like that, you know.”
The man looked helplessly to Riswalt.
“You can’t keep us here. This is against the law.”
“Sure. What will happen if we keep you here five more minutes than intended? A slap on the wrist—another 1,000 obols for dragging a meeting by force? I think you’ll have much more to explain if the entire floor hears a fight from a room and finds a clone of the Aquientie daughter ripping your men apart. Add to that the Aquientie telling the whole story to the authorities, and you’ll have a hard time explaining how she got there.”
The cat smiled. “Of course, we are willing to make the concession—and not even make a case against you. All you need to do is sign some concessions.”
“I won’t be signing away my house or soul,” Riswalt barked.
“Sure. We just want you to withhold some votes, that’s all,” Q’Shar spoke and nodded at one of his men to bring out the quickly written agreement, prepared by one of the cats during the meeting.
Riswalt took a glance and then snapped his eyes back to Q’Shar. “Asking us to vote for your proposal is asking too much. That’s political suicide.”
“Well, if you think you have time to negotiate, then by all means. Just let’s hope your men won’t try to move her too much—she might start to stir soon.”
“Bullshit. You’re bluffing,” spat the man. “If we have the clone, then where is the girl?”
Q’Shar let Sam drive in the dagger. “Still at the mansion,” Sam said. “Stuffed in the closet… Our goal was never to rescue her. We simply wanted to get your men out of the mansion or the Sabbath authorities in. And you did just that for us.”
“My men would notice.”
“After a tiring battle, multiple deaths, and taking an abyssal spell to their minds for the first time? Doubtful.”
“She had the ring on,” Riswalt said and looked to the servant with a question, to which he nodded.
“Simple blood seal, would come off if you yanked on it. Never checked if it was still attuned, did you?”
Riswalt looked into the cat’s eyes, then into Sam’s, but neither gave him anything. He quickly glanced through the rest of the documents, his hands shaking as facial muscles tightened with each page of the short document.
“We will withhold our vote, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“We will let you withhold the vote, but you have to give a speech about how good our points were and that you are now unable to make a decision.”
“That’s just plain humiliation,” the man shouted in outrage.
“Like having your allies vote behind your back all of a sudden?”
Riswalt’s eyes darted around. He was looking for an exit from the situation. Sam was clearly tired from battle, but… Q’Shar noticed his eyes stopped on the Hook clearly on display by Sam’s belt. The man looked back at the page and began calculating.
“Fine,” he finally spat the word like it was poison and signed the paper, stamping it with his blood. Sam then approached and did the same, guaranteeing that no nasty business would be pulled. Then both got a copy.
Emmanuel then stormed out of the room, pointing at the servants and telling them to prepare for a fight.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Sam shouted after him. “The creature can’t do much,” he said with a smile as Riswalt froze.
Sam just shrugged. “I didn’t have the time to give it real power; the magic signature was just a fake using a crystal. Anyone of your servants should kill it easily—no need for all of you to go,” Sam said, with fake concern in his voice.
For a few seconds, Riswalt looked like he would try to strangle him, but stopped himself in time and just stormed off, slamming the door. After that, the rest of the servants bowed quickly and also left.
Sam was now alone with Q’Shar in the room, and the cat finally sighed deeply as he breathed out, letting all the tension go. He slowly collapsed onto the pillow.
“Oh, god of the sands, I thought the tension would kill me. Did everything go well?”
“More or less. We had trouble convincing the elves to let go of their plan. They lost some people—we almost did too—but Myhur will lick his wounds. He’s sturdy. The rest are already mostly recovered.”
“And you?” Q’Shar asked, and Sam smiled at the concern.
“I’m good. But I can feel the ache from using eldritch magic—it’s like the song tries to lull me to sleep. My head is starting to pound, but other than that, I’m good.”
“Good.” The cat smiled and then looked at the document.
“So what did you get?”
“Not that much. But we got the nobles leaderless in the next votes—the Riswalts will withhold their votes—plus the humiliation session,” the cat smiled at that.
Sam’s eyebrow rose. “For the threat of losing votes, I thought you would get him to sing and dance for you.”
The cat shook his head. “It’s not that easy. Even if we made the case and Aquientie and elves cooperated, he could find a scapegoat. The only evidence we really had for his direct involvement was bringing the girl into the hotel, but if his men all testified it was some branch or someone in the Aquientie going against Emmanuel, it wouldn’t be such an open-and-shut case. He could worm his way out of it. And he signed away more than he thought.” Q’Shar smiled. “Also, in politics, beating on your opponent too much isn’t always good. Not in times like these.”
Sam could see there was another scheme within a scheme, but just shook his head.
“Are you going to get some sleep? We have forty minutes remaining,” the cat asked.
“No,” Sam shook his head. “Once the visions start, I’ll be hard to wake up. I’ll have to sleep for a few hours, or I’ll just wake up in a worse state than I went to sleep in.”
“Fine. Go meditate, then. We have rewards to reap,” Q’Shar finished the talk with a smile that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame.
Comments
Erikbongo
Sheesh, this was tense I love it.
Jonny Mad
tyftc
