#tarvek

“That shelf isn’t where I keep any actual secrets; it’s just meant to be a convenient place to keep things in reach.”

“Right, the real secret desk is attached to the third storeroom on the second level, with the switch at the eighth brick to the left.” Tarvek waved his hand dismissively, and was pleased to note the flicker of annoyance in Martellus’ face. Good. “That’s not my point. Elias is an idiot.”

“Which is why he makes an excellent scapegoat.”

“Hardly a believable one.”

“It’s not like I would want to sacrifice Uncle Kurt to the Heterodyne’s vengeance.” Martellus rolled his eyes and started rearranging his papers back into order. “I’m not currently planning to have you assassinated.”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow and gestured at the papers.

The thing was, Tarvek had willingly walked into the Refuge of Storms. He and Martellus needed to make some normal, ordinary negotiations about the current treaties, and Tarvek had agreed to go visit.  Martellus hadn’t actually tried anything in the year since they broke the time stop over Mechanicsburg, and although there had been the usual stream of assassins Tarvek was reasonably sure none had been from this specific cousin. They were almost getting along.

Well, the wine at dinner last night had been drugged, but to be fair Tarvek had also mixed his own poison into Martellus’s slice of an actually delightful cake. It would have been almost ruder not to have at least one poisoning. Neither had been a serious attempt.

Martellus sighed. “I’m concerned that you might have an actual accident one day.”

“Were you thinking an experiment gone wrong or perhaps a slip and fall down the stairs?”

“Either. Any. I’m not being euphemistic; I mean accident.”

Tarvek frowned. “What?”

“They happen sometimes.” Martellus spread his hands in exasperation. “Have you ever actually looked into Aunt Cathrin’s death?”

“Why bother? That was clearly Natalia’s —” Tarvek trailed off as he realised what Martellus was implying. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“You think her carriage genuinely just—”

“It has been known to happen.”

“But Natalia—”

“Genuinely mourned her.”

“You can mourn someone and still have them killed!” Tarvek protested. “She had the most to gain!”

“Firstly, the fact that someone else gained more doesn’t mean that the person with the second-most to gain couldn’t have done it,” Martellus said, infuriatingly condescending. “Or third, or just a petty grudge.”

“That I’ll concede, but—”

“And secondly, sometimes the carriage wheels are genuinely made badly, and a driver just happens to hit a pot hole at an unfortunate angle.”

It was indeed possible, but Tarvek was having trouble – although, Natalia had seemed genuinely distraught, and he remembered thinking at the time that he’d never considered her a good actress. Maybe he should send her a box of chocolates or something.

“But thank you for demonstrating my point so clearly.” Martellus tapped at the paper. “In our family honest accidents, as rare as they are, are not actually believed.”

“So you decided to frame my hypothetical, accidental death on Elias in order to—” Tarvek left the question open.

“I’m concerned that if you were to fall down the steps tomorrow, the Lady Heterodyne would methodically go through the family, one by one, removing organs and testing creative death rays, until she found someone she believed the culprit. And, unfortunately, I would be the top of the list.”

“Don’t be silly, cousin. It’s Wulfenbach who keeps torturers on his payroll, and unlike Agatha, his rooms remain in perfect working order,” Tarvek said, as if Agatha’s dungeons were not kept well prepared at all times. It wasn’t like she wanted it.

Martellus shook his head. “I’m sure between the two of them they would very successfully wipe out the entire Valois line.”

“Unlikely. Agatha likes Violetta.”

Martellus wrinkled his nose, probably irritated at the image of Violetta as the last surviving heir of the Storm King. Violetta would probably stab him for that, as if she also wouldn’t be horrified at the idea. Tarvek had once offered to help her figure out where she was in the line of inheritance, and she punched him enough times he’d burnt the calculations he’d already finished. Somewhere in the seven hundreds, although he hadn’t added the new children born since then.

The whole concept was amusing, but unrealistic. Despite everything Martellus had been around for, he’d never actually gotten to know Agatha – or maybe he understood she believed in justice, but Martellus himself didn’t fully understand what justice meant. If Tarvek died tomorrow, Agatha and Gil probably would go on a rampage to find who did it, but they wouldn’t kill anyone without proof.

He could explain that to Martellus, but Martellus having a vested interest in Tarvek staying alive was so much more useful.

“Don’t frame Elias. Aunt Henriette is a far more realistic choice.”

“Aunt Henriette has the subtlety of a rampaging construct with rayguns for arms; how is that more realistic?”

“Or, currently, the Countess of Mount Peuckert.”

“You can’t use this as an excuse to have your enemies dealt with post-mortem.”

“Why not? By definition my current enemies are the most likely to have me assassinated.” Tarvek smiled, mostly because he knew it would annoy Martellus, and turned to leave. “And I already sent a message to Agatha that you were planning to assassinate me and frame Cousin Elias, so I doubt he’s that believable anymore.”

“What?” Martellus stood up abruptly, barely catching his ink pot before it fell.

Tarvek plucked the quill from the desk for absolutely no reason other than Martellus couldn’t stop him. “I’ll go send her an update, shall I?”

“Yes. Now. Do that.”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow.

Martellus scowled. “Please.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

Martellus waited for Tarvek to leave the room before slamming his head against the back wall.

Tarvek, paused outside the door as was his usual habit, had to bite back the urge to laugh.

He really did need to write that letter. The Refuge of Storms was close to Mechanicsburg, and it would take no time at all for a horde of Jägermonsters to arrive. Tempting as it was to let them get close enough for Martellus to see, that seemed more likely to terrify the castle staff.  Not to mention it would waste Agatha’s time.