Remus sat in his private study at home, going over materials for the upcoming semester at the Academy. Before his time in Hell, he was never a mage, much less anything academic. Sometimes he surprised himself in reflection over some complicated text, wondering how this had happened.
But it was true what they say - with enough time and dedication, anything was possible.
Regardless of what he tried to organize, his mind kept slipping back to that burning name from yesterday.
Eric Lancen.
The owner of the building used as a Punch House, the former Royal Knight, a former brother-in-arms.
He was also one of ’The Twelve’.
A personal term for Remus, a name from a list of people who were responsible for his betrayal and sacrifice to Hell.
Remus had to stop his hand from flexing into a hardened grip around his pen.
Now why didn’t he just go find him and turn him into a smoking crater? Capture him and torture him for a decade?
As efficient as that would be, it would also have consequences.
A murdered man, especially a semi-important one, opened up a murder investigation.
A missing man opened up a hunt.
Things would have to be done in a way that would leave no fallout on Remus’s new life. His cover and ability to operate for his Queen was an essential part of his bargain with her.
The Infernal Knights were the hellish royal hand in the Garden. Their duties were various, not just bloodthirsty tasks.
Seduction. Infiltration. Threats.
And of course, the Toll.
As mortals in civilization, they had to cover their tracks very well.
Otherwise, they would not be an effective or useful Knight for long.
Or alive, for that matter.
But the particular bargain he struck with his Queen in coming into her service was that, besides the Toll, there would be a list of twelve names that fully belonged to him. His Queen acknowledged his revenge and granted him the freedom to do with them however he wished.
In his own free time, naturally.
So as intriguing as it would be to let himself into Lancen’s room tonight and sever his balls off, it was too messy of a situation. Lancen was inarguably the weakest on his list, the smallest prey. Because of that, Remus may not get anything useful out of him about that night they sacrificed him, or anything useful about the rest of the people.
Remus stopped writing notes to have a sip of tea. Ms. Harrow would periodically check if he was drinking it, despite it tasting lovely.
Back then, Lancen was in the same boat as Remus. A Royal Knight, born into a noble family, raised through the ranks, decorated, honorable, or so he thought.
Obviously, Lancen was well rewarded for that night of betrayal. Retired from service despite having some good fighting years left in him. He was always a greedy man, taking extra at meals, harmless stuff. But it was an indicator of what he was.
Unsurprisingly, with having part ownership of the Punch House, and many other things Remus was finding out, he was building himself into a captain of illegal industry. He had legitimate means too, a dock at the harbor. Plenty of workers that he could advertise his side businesses discreetly.
Remus’s intention was to start to crush those side businesses, anger his greed by dismantling all the illicit trades publicly, and watch him squirm to avoid scrutiny.
Then, he’d move on him personally.
His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, heading to the study.
Unsure of why he felt a mild panic, he hastily gulped more of the tea.
After the knock on his door, Remus called for Ms. Harrow to come in.
"Pardon, Master Remus, but you have a visitor."
Remus couldn’t help but smile internally as the old woman subtly checked the amount of tea left.
"And who is visiting?"
"A gentleman called Eric Lancen, a friend of your brother."
Despite the stillness that came over him, Remus didn’t react. His heart continued to beat normally. It didn’t race. If anything, it slowed down.
"I see. I will be down in a moment. Set him up in the living room," Remus instructed.
The living room was at the front of the townhouse, a neat and tidy parlor. The large bay window highlighted the clean and presentable street outside. Leather sofas and armchairs tastefully made up the room.
Lancen was waiting in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. How symbolic.
Remus entered the room, walking to him.
"Good morning. Mr. Lancen, I presume?" he greeted him, holding out his hand.
Lancen turned and shook his hand.
He was a little shorter than Remus, thinner, but still capable. Retirement seemed to agree with him, as he seemingly had gained a tiny bit more weight from what Remus could deduce.
His neat hair looked a little whiter, with slight bags under his small eyes. His grip was still firm, no serious physical health problems.
Remus deduced an entire profile of the man in moments, just from shaking his hand.
The only real thing he couldn’t guess.
Was why he was here.
"Yes. Good morning, Professor Blake, lovely to meet you," Lancen said, finishing the handshake. The guest looked taken aback slightly, focusing on Remus’s face intently.
Remus remained calm and indifferent, slightly raising an eyebrow in question.
"Forgive me..." Lancen apologized quietly. "You look just like him."
"I have been getting that a lot since my return to the city," Remus said with a slight smile. He gestured to the two armchairs beside the fire. Ms. Harrow had already laid out fresh tea, naturally.
Remus was convinced by the end of the week his urine would be practically tea itself.
Both men sat down, settling in, reaching for their cups.
"What brings you here, Mr Lancen?" Remus inquired politely.
"Please, call me Eric. I was a friend of your brother. We served together at the palace," Eric said, after a big gulp of tea.
"A friend of my brother is a friend of mine. Please, call me Remus."
"Thank you, Remus. I called in to, well, I just heard about you moving here, and that you were Alec’s brother. I didn’t even know he had a brother, forgive me. But I called in to offer my condolences to you, as late as they are."
Remus didn’t react. He just observed.
Despite the tiredness of the man in front of him, who seemed to have had a rough night of sorts despite his clean presentation. He seemed nervous, not necessarily guilty, but skittish.
"Well, thank you for that," Remus replied. "I’m afraid I didn’t know my brother very well. We were separated quite young."
"I see." Eric nodded.
"The other reason for my visit is to explain, if you want, that is..." Eric awkwardly continued.
"Your brother, what happened to him."