[OTA] The Price You Pay | Jordan's Challenge to Seven of Spades

[falsepretences]

It wasn’t a pretty fight. Of course, there were no pretty fights, not really. When Jordan had challenged in fencing when he’d been fifteen, that had been a pretty challenge, more like dancing than a battle. But this was different.

Maddox Hobbs was not his equal, he thought, and they both knew it. But the Seven wasn’t as useless with blades as he and Ethan had made him out to be when they’d been talking about it. He was fast, and he didn’t hesitate with his knife. He hadn’t earned his reputation wrongly, really; he had the marks of a good killer. And Jordan supposed that killing the king’s cousin would either be a terrible mistake or a notch in Maddox’s belt. Maddox was likely to think of it as the latter. That was the sort of man he was.

Jordan fell back slightly - as if he was regrouping - and waited to see Maddox’s reaction. There was a curve to the other man’s lips then, a slight smirk, and if it was practice, Jordan would roll his eyes at it. Cocky, he thought. There were too many of them who had that as their downfall. It wasn’t fatal during training.

But they weren’t training.

He waited for Maddox to move, and he didn’t have to wait long for the other man’s lunge forward. The rest of what happened was too quick to see, unless they were accustomed to watching this kind of thing. Which likely was most of the audience, Jordan thought as grabbed Maddox’s wrist with his left hand, twisting it and the Seven’s dagger away from him hard enough that they could both hear the grind and pop of the bones. Maddox’s eyes filled with sharp pair and hard anger, but Jordan was still moving, and a moment later the Seven’s expression went shocked and then blank.

The former Seven, at least. He wasn’t anything anymore, Jordan thought as he pulled his dagger from between the other man’s ribs, the steel smearing bright red. Then he let go of his wrist and let Maddox Hobbs fall to the floor of the exercise room, his blood staining the floor beneath them. Jordan Novak turned away, his expression cool and still as he moved to clean his blade. Michael wouldn’t be pleased with what he’d done. For himself, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to feel. Maddox Hobbs was the first man he’d killed. Maybe there was something fitting about the fact that it was to come back to the Spades.

He should do something about the wounds Maddox had managed to get in, he expected.

Comments

[piqued]

It gets easier Every Time.

He had cleaned up after all his own challenges. That, after all, was the Nature of servants' challenges. They weren't spectacular like this. Didn't have any particular audience but one another. This is Different. This is the Tipping of Power.

And since the Only Time it ever Hurt to deal with a body, it had simply gotten Easier.

The work is over. The Rank is taken. The new Order of things is established as a blade glimmers beneath Red and a body begins to Spill. Blood leaves Stains. Blood means taking off white gloves and tugging on black ones while sweeping in on the New Seven and the Nothing he'll be leaving for disposal.

"...expect you'll be wanting to see to your own knife, Master Novak?"

If that's not how a Spade butler says 'Welcome Home,' what is?

[falsepretences]

There was a pause, and then Jordan flicked his eyes over at Chives before he nods. "I would, thank you, Chives." He glances back at Maddox. He should be gone by now, of course. He looks as dispassionate about it as if he was thinking about Maddox's habit of flitting off somewhere when there might be something to do.

"I imagine you and the Twos will be busy enough cleaning up after him."

[piqued]

That's the way a Seven ought look. A Novak, even. A Person of Significance.

There's calm approval in the deep cant of his head, the sharp sound like a crack as he hits owlish and returns toward upright. "We'll manage, sir."

This, after all, was their Specialty more than any other Castle.

"I'll have something clean sent up to the surgery, then?"

Because Jordan would need to go get Patched Up now. And would also need a less Messy shirt.

[falsepretences]

There's a flicker of a smile, and Jordan nods. "If you would," he says calmly. The weight of the death is settling more easily on his shoulders, or at least starting to. It's not a pleasant feeling, exactly, but he's not going to make him lose much sleep. "And tea to the Information Management offices when you're done here?"

There was no hurry, after all.

[piqued]

"Nothing easier, milord."

And isn't it Better to be able to call him that trippingly off the tongue. Isn't it good to be able to Officially use his knowledge of How Jordan Novak Likes His Tea.

Isn't it good to reach over and dust just gently at the other man's shoulder. Can't have Dust on the Bloody shirt. "On with you, then."

[falsepretences]

There was always a feeling of not belonging, as long as he'd been a Heart. If he was honest about it, he'd brought most of it on himself, but no twelve year old deals with change easily. Especially the way change had happened for the Novaks, back then.

He knows Clive hates it when Chives fusses; it's the Kelly in him, Jordan's always figured. They were always sort of odd, for old Spades. Jordan smiles a little at the butler and pockets his blade. It'll be impeccably polished to distract him while the doctor puts in the stitches he might require. Then there will be dodging at least some of the family so he can get to work.

"Until then, Chives."

It's a thank you, really. They both know it.

[piqued]

The fussing can't be helped. There aren't a huge number of ways for the Supposedly Silent to mark their Preference, their Approval. Little moments like this are best.

When Jordan is patched up and settled into his office, however, and tea is brought, there will, very briefly, very quietly, be Words.

"...congratulations, sir."

[falsepretences]

He's being good about it, even, when Chives arrives with the tea. Sitting out of the way in a chair, his arm in a sling and a contemplative look on his face as he orders a pair of Twos around.

"Thank you," he says when he picks up the cup of tea. There's a slight, slight tremor in his hand that he just forces away as he takes a sip. "It's good to be home." Which it is, even if he's...not entirely dealing with the killing in an exactly healthy manner. But that's par for the course with Jordan; why deal when he can bury?

[piqued]

It's the Way of things. And, coincidentally, why there are Chives men silently flitting through every part of the Castle. For when the burying turns to breaking and someone needs to be struck, to be victimized; to, more often than not, simply Pick Up Pieces.

"And quite glad to have you back, sir." Genuinely. One more Piece no longer missing. "Will that be all, Master Novak?"

[falsepretences]

"For now, yes," Jordan says, exhaling. It's not the first thing he's done that'll have a lasting effect, he thinks; at least here, he knows he's surrounded by people who know how it goes. And people who won't want to talk about it, just like him. Maybe that's what makes it home.

At least, one of the things.

"I'll ring if there's anything else, Chives."