You take out one of your many poisoned knives and motion for the other Spymaster to come hither. He gladly obliges.
0
You sadly do not get very long to appreciate how much of a terrible idea it was to attempt this as Szabo of Vesperlund meets your charge with an unerring volley of thrown daggers aimed at your throat, heart and, just for variety, your navel - all three strike home as the Spymaster himself leaps forward in a ruthlessly efficient motion to finish the job.
You see the scene from a distance for a moment: the Princess letting off an impressed gasp as her eyes go wide at just how much shit you ate there, the Spymaster already moving to kick your soon-to-be-lifeless body out of the way, Sir Ludovic wheezing as he runs this way from afar... and behind the pedestal the Spymaster has left behind stands the Duke, smaller but simultaneously more alert and fearsome, a veritable lich of a man glowing with sinister magic.
Oh my, he laughs, that doesn't seem to have gone very well at all for you, does it? Points for effort, of course. He would have guessed that you would make a run for the book - it is wonderful to be proven wrong about these things, simply exhilarating.
He looks at the Spymaster, frozen in time for the moment as your eventful life plays out in the corners of your eyes. He's not very enjoyable to watch. Takes his work far too seriously, too quick about it, not enough passion. It'd be a shame to let him win just like that - how about he gives you a second chance, just for being such a good sport? For adequate compensation, of course.
A) Take my youth and add it to your collection of beloved things lost, I shall make do with the little time I will have earned!
B) Take my heart and keep it a trophy in your place of pride, I will learn to go on without it!
C) Take my will and come with me, and I shall help you live the story you have always deserved!
D) Just go ahead and take my life, but avenge me a thousandfold upon this Vesperlundian bastard!