Conde Màxim Elià Huguet i Pou arrives at his fort a month after his return, unannounced and accompanied by enough men to easily overpower Antoni's forces, which is not a good sign. He demands to speak to Joan at once, about theology of all things, and refuses to permit Antoni even a few minutes alone with him before the conversation. He separates Antoni from his own personnel and leaves him under the watch of several of his guards, which is an even worse sign.

There is, realistically, nothing he can do to change what Conde Huguet does with him, except insofar as if this is some kind of test he should avoid committing treason, or indeed contemplating it. Joan — Joan can still affect the outcome here, certainly for himself, perhaps for Antoni if Conde Huguet decides that raising a heretic should carry a death sentence.

He's never been particularly good at praying to any of the Good gods, nor most of the neutral ones. Pharasma he could manage, sometimes, if he was praying for something simple like a healthy baby, but he finds himself tongue-tied even asking Erastil for a good harvest, if he's not reciting a memorized prayer. It's probably the thing where he's Evil, and knows it, and is making no particular attempt to change the inevitable. But it's not like there's anything else he could reasonably do that might make a difference to anyone.

Iomedae,

I don't know how seriously Joan has offended you, but he means no harm by it. He has all of the cunning of a wizard and none of the sagacity, and sometimes it might lead him to question your teachings, but he can accept correction if it's explained in enough detail. If you can help him to make it through this conversation without blaspheming against you, I beg you to do it, and if not, please at least restrain your servants' tempers. He is still a child. He can still learn. He means no offense by it, and although of course we will accept your punishment uncomplainingly, a punishment that still leaves him with the chance to learn from his mistakes would be most appropriate — ah, not that I would question your judgment, of course—

Conde Huguet returns, eventually, accompanied by more of his men. Not by Joan, but that could mean any number of different things; Antoni keeps his expression carefully controlled as he waits to hear which.

"As far as I can tell your brother would not be out of place among Shelynites."

What.

"Your Excellency, I did not know him to have any special talent for the arts." He manages to keep it from coming out as a question.

"Oh, he's certainly not particularly orthodox. He started earnestly telling me that Neshen's redemption is proof that it is possible in principle to redeem Asmodeus. On further examination I determined that he had somehow conflated Neshen and Ragathiel, neither of whom he had even heard of a year ago, and when I explained to him that they are in fact different figures he spent the next several minutes attempting to work through the theological implications." 

He isn't saying that like he thinks trying to redeem Asmodeus is the sort of dangerous heresy people should be put to death for, but that tells Antoni less than he would like. But he did say Joan would fit in with Shelynites, and he's never once known the man to say anything outright false.

"I hope he has proven himself adequate, Your Excellency," he says, because he can't think of how else he's supposed to respond. 

There's a dangerously long pause. "I have offered to pay for his passage to Absalom and fund his tuition at the College of Mysteries, should he pass their entrance qualifications."

Another pause. One of his men shifts position slightly.

"I am stripping you of your lands and titles. You may accompany him to Absalom if you wish, provided that you accept a few stipulations to ensure your good behavior, detailed in a contract I have drawn up, and attest to everything you know about plausible replacements."

He feels — numb, mainly, there's cold anger beneath it but mostly he just feels numb. His only hope is that it's some sort of bluff, it's not much hope but it's all he has— "May I ask why, Your Excellency?"

Conde Huguet exchanges a glance with one of his wizards. (It's sufficiently unsubtle that Antoni half-suspects he's doing it deliberately.) "...I'm not testing you," he says impatiently. "I am willing to grant you an explanation, if you actually prefer one, but on balance I expect that you don't." 

(He had been dreading sorting through vague and contradictory statements from Chelish peasants trying desperately to guess what he wants to hear, most likely with orders to feed him a specific narrative. He can't honestly say that he's glad that instead he found specific and mostly-consistent accounts of how terrible both men actually ruling Miravet and Conesa are, but it did make the decision much easier. He'd been hoping he could leave the youngest brother in charge, with some remotely suitable regent until he reaches adulthood, but one conversation had been more than enough to demonstrate that, surprisingly-functional ethics aside, the boy should absolutely not be in charge of anything.)

(It did not at any point occur to him that anyone remotely sensible would try to assess his suitability to rule by asking random peasants.)

He will not, actually, gain anything from treason here. He's thoroughly outnumbered, and even if he did somehow manage to kill the Count and his retinue it would only mean a slow death for treason in a month. The Count has him trapped, just as thoroughly as if he had ordered him imprisoned in a tower, and—

He doesn't want to die. Pride has always been one of his strongest virtues, and it demands of him that he refuse, that he treat the Count's "offer" as the ludicrous farce that it is, that he die here, on his feet, rather than decades from now in ignominy. He can picture how glorious it would be, imagine himself received in honor in Hell for whatever blows he manages to strike against Iomedae's people—

And he doesn't want to die, and that really only leaves him with one option.

"I will need to see the terms of your contract before signing, of course," he says, because he isn't four years old.