It seemed, then, than the noose had loosened just enough that if he so wished, the Golden Serpent could take the life of another foe, though in doing so he would surely be killed, as he had no doubts of before. And the King offered his own sword to do it with! What deliciously cruel irony it would be, for a king to bring a prisoner into his midst, only to have the prisoner kill him with his own weapon. And yet, in turn, a voice called to Saptheth, an inhuman yet lilting tone- demonic, perhaps?- that claimed his lineage would be moot if he were to slay the king in such a manner, citing honour as the reason. Looking round the royal, Saptheth narrowed his eyes at the shadows, and whatever creature lurked in their depths.

'[i]You seem to lack understanding of my people's customs, fiend,[/i]' the Golden Serpent uttered back to whatever foe hid itself from the light, replying in his native language. '[i]The honour of the Balchothi is reserved for worthy opponents, not the figurehead for a butcher's nation, and certainly not the murderer of the Balchothi himself. Should Eorl die by my hands, it will be most just.[/i]' Returning to a straight posture, Saptheth continued to glare into the king's eyes, taking time to assess the situation. To take the sword would be simple enough; to decapitate Eorl simpler still... indeed, a smart man would not have put himself in this situation to begin with. Then was it worth obeying the orders of a fool, Saptheth asked himself? Or would a sacrifice on the mercenary's part prove more suitable in the long run?

An answer was reached in his mind. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Saptheth reached a hand out, but not to the weapon's hilt. Instead, he laid his palm on the flat of the blade, pressing downward to tip the weapon across the royal's arm until it fell, clattering against the floor of the keep. Though it was unlikely anyone else in the room would know the intricacies of the act, the gesture involved in tipping a weapon from the owner's hand was generally intended to turn down a duel in a somewhat offensive manner, suggesting that they were seen as very little threat. Not a lethal insult on its own- that would be completed by stamping the weapon underfoot- but nonetheless upsetting to the already-offended party, and Saptheth hoped the general impression would carry over into Westron culture.

'Know that you live not because honour demands it,' Saptheth stated dryly, 'but because you dance on the thin line between bravery and stupidity. It... amuses... me.' [i]And,[/i] he withheld, silently murmuring the words in his head, [i]because surely a fool like yourself will drive this nation of Rohan into the ground within your lifetime, or else die of your own accord.[/i] With that, he crossed his arms over themselves, and waited for the king's reaction- and the reactions of others in the room, in fact- to his act of disrespect.

[@Jbcool][@DrunkasaurusRex][@Vor]