oneman_onevote | AU: Terre D'Intrigue - We Need To Talk About Matthieu

The apprentice that presents a letter at Brix nó Balm de Marsilikos' house is still young enough to be properly called a child, but bears the direct gaze and assured air of one who knows he is meant to stay with House Mandrake.

He waits with creditable calm and quiet for one who knows his vaguely-intimidating teacher is actually waiting just across the street in a carriage, and might arch an eyebrow in no uncertain terms if he takes too long.

(Havelock nó Mandrake's ways are sometimes strange, but it would be unthinkable to question him.)

The letter - when it reaches Brix - is sealed tight, and inside reads simply,

Brix, I need to talk to you.

-Havelock

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Frowning, Richard brings the letter to Brix in her study and presents it with the murmured explanation that it came from Mandrake House. It only takes a moment for Brix to open and read it -- only a moment more for her to write a reply and seal it.

"Take that back to him quickly, if you please."

The reply:

Come at your earliest convenience.

-Brix nó Balm

Havelock's earliest convenience it is.

He presents himself at the door a few minutes later, after ordering young Luca to get into the carriage in his place and go back to Mandrake.

He'll find his own way back later, but he has no idea how long this will take.

Richard opens the door, looking unsurprised.

"Messire. She's in her study. Shall I announce you?"

"If you please, Richard."

Havelock is looking a little sober today, even for him.

(It's not that he didn't enjoy his assignation with Matthieu, far from it - but for someone used to control, brooding on something he cannot yet help has not done much for his state of mind.)

Richard bows slightly and turns to head back into the house.

A minute or two later, out comes Brix. She smiles faintly when she sees Havelock.

"Havelock -- come in to the sitting room, won't you?"

"My lady," he greets her, and smiles back.

It's not terribly happy or carefree, as smiles go.

At least he's reigned in the anger that felt earlier - this will do for now.

He follows her through in silence.

Her smile fades quickly when she sees his expression.

Taking a seat on the couch, she gestures for him to sit next to her.

"What's happened?"

She can count the number of times she's seen Havelock look upset on one hand. It's unsettling, rather.

He sits, but does not relax, sitting forward with his fingers laced, and looking thoughtful.

"I am afraid this is rather against protocol," he says quietly, which may not be the most reassuring start he could make.

"In what sense?"

"In the sense of speaking about one's assignations," he says.

"And asking you for details of another."

Neither are something he would do lightly.

Her eyebrows go up.

"All right," slowly.

"My assignation last night was with Matthieu," he tells her.

"He-" Havelock hesitates very briefly. "I expected him to be nervous, that is quite natural. But the way he reacted to some things..."

He cuts himself off, and glances over. Dancing around the point helps nothing.

"Someone has mistreated him. Recently."

Her stomach drops.

In spite of the laws of the land, in spite of Elua's precepts, mistreatment by patrons is often a risk -- but more in Valerian and Heliotrope, though, Houses devoted to one form of surrender or another. It is not a risk she has ever associated with Gentian.

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"I'll tell you what I can," he says, with a sigh.

"'Unsettled' is the term he would admit to, and that the way someone treated him caused it. He seemed to half-blame himself, of all things."

Yes, Havelock is still angry about that.

"You know, don't you, what a visionary he is?"

A nod, solemn.

"I've had occasion to experience it."

Havelock leans back a little, expression bleak.

"He said that it was not for him to withhold what he sees, where it was sought. Vanity, he called it. He sounded... ashamed."

Rare enough for a Servant of Naamah.

"Someone made him acutely unsettled, then ashamed because of it."

That sinking feeling in her stomach turns abruptly to a tightness, like a fist closing. She presses her lips together and controls the reaction.

"I forget, sometimes," she says, her voice low, "how young he is." A breath. "It was a patron, then, it would seem."

"He would not confirm it."

An eyebrow quirks.

"So yes, almost certainly."

"I see."

A breath in, a breath out.

"In your opinion, is this a matter of heresy?"

Havelock shakes his head instantly, despite a small part of him that insists yes.

"Matthieu would have been far clearer about that."

Thank Elua for that much.

"All right."

That's a relief, of some kind.

"I'll call on him and see what else I can discover. At least I can make sure he's all right."

Havelock nods, thoughtful.

"He probably won't tell you much, but any of his most recent patrons would be helpful. It was most likely a new one, at that."

He can't imagine Matthieu seeing someone twice, after an encounter as uncomfortable as that one surely was.