Of Messages and Masks
Fifth Day of the Ninth Month 292 AC
You find Stannis Baratheon standing ramrod-straight as he reads a battered anonymous book by the light of a mage-lantern. A less practical man might have scorned the light of witchcraft to do his reading by under the circumstances. A more flexible one would have looked less like someone had shoved a lance up his ass. You keep your greetings to the barest polite minimum, knowing anything more would be wasted, then push the letter bearing the seal of the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands into his hands. "You might find this an interesting read," you say briefly.
The play of emotions on the man's face is intriguing, the way the deciphering the markings of some ancient weather-worn carvings might be. It is less that the Usurper's brother is trying to hide his reactions from you and more as it he has grown so accustomed to burying everything he feels behind an icy composure. For all that you are able to read him somewhat: surprise, anger... Then his shoulders slump slightly, a fraction of the tension he carries with him always melts away, and you can see a glimmer of fondness light his stormy gaze.
"Is that your younger brother's writing?" you ask after he sets aside the message.
Looking surprised at the question, he answers curtly, "No, the maester of Storm's End wrote this and the seal is still upon it."
He does not ask you why you care in so many words, but the questions is clear in his tone, so you answer him regardless. "Is it possible Lord Renly did not dictate the letter, or is there some turn of phrase or other sign you can recognize him by?"
"Of course he had it sent," Stannis snaps back. "Who else could have done it...?"
"Quite a few people," you interrupt as you take his seeming through the power of the ribbon you had tied in your hair. "And many more
things... worse than any man."
For a moment the man looks startled, then he retorts coldly, "I can see through that trick."
"And now?" You dismiss the glamor with a thought and instead shift your flesh into his from, the process mildly disconcerting for it has been quite some time since you had used that spell thus.
"You would still give yourself away the moment you opened your mouth." The answer is delivered with less certainty than before.
"There are creatures that can look inside a man's mind as a mortal might leaf through a book," you press. "Your brother has been missing for months after vanishing under mysterious circumstances. Given my own history and the rising tide of sorcery in the world I cannot help but be concerned."
"What does it matter to you?" the lord of Dragonstone replies between gritted teeth.
"There is a word for a man who sells one of his captives into an uncertain fate caring only for the gleam of gold. Of all the things I have been called, I do not imagine many are foolish enough to name me
slaver."
For a moment you fear you have pushed too hard by reminding your prisoner of the precariousness of his condition, but then he answers grudgingly, "That you are not. Do you have some plan to deal with the possibility that my brother may not be himself?" It is clear he does not doubt you do, and understandably so considering the show you made of it.
"While I recognize I have no authority over you, I would advise you write a letter containing some secret between the two of you. Perhaps a childhood fancy that would require he answer in kind."
"I do not..." Stannis' mouth snaps shut audibly as he cuts himself off and instead he asks, "Do I have your word you will not read this letter?"
The question requests a measure of trust that is not often present between captor and prisoner. Might it be worth offering? Or should you simply lie? You are, after all, an excellent liar by any measure.
What do you answer?
[] Promise you will not read the letter (Truth)
[] Promise you will not read the letter (Lie)
[] Refuse the request
[] Write in
OOC: And that is what a good diplomacy result with Stannis looks like, still bearing a passing resemblance to pulling out teeth, but this time with anesthetic.
