Matter of Honour
Phillipe decided to tell his brother nothing, just let him find whatever information he would be able to uncover. So he only told Raoul where he would be able to contact "the Persian".
Nadir Khan was racking his brain for he did not find any reason why Erik would suddenly need him to confirm that he was a man of title and rank - which had always been completely unimportant to Erik, on the contrary, he usually mocked the meaningless titles. Why would he suddenly try to find his way in the salons of the rich? Erik had always known that he would never be accepted by them, usually the lower the social classes, the more likely he would find some kind of acceptance and that only because he bought it with his money. Why would he suddenly approach rich noblemen - and the Comte de Chagny, of all people? He already knew that the Vicomte was engaged to Christine Daae and thus Erik's rival, but why would Erik approach the Comte in a very formal manner? Did he hope the Comte would be able to persuade his brother not to marry the singer? This would be a highly unlikely approach for Erik, but could it be that Erik was desperate enough to do something reasonable?
He was even more surprised when his servant announced that the Vicomte de Chagny wanted to see him now. Of course he invited him in his livingroom and told his servant to bring them tea.
The Vicomte looked like a nervous teenager. Of course he was no teenager, but to the elder Persian he looked like a boy, a bit pale, nervously fidgeting around on his chair. And this was the rival Erik hated so much? In the Persian's eyes he was more like a child than a man, someone he'd rather protect.
But he could understand Erik's hatred for his rival - Erik loved this singer with an all-consuming obsessive love, and being Erik he had to possess what he loved. If Erik loved something he wanted to have it for himself alone and no one except very few people would ever be allowed to see it. As long as he had only collected things, it was no problem, except that he had resorted to burglary and theft if he couldn't buy what he wanted, but with a woman that was something else altogether.
"I was told that you know Erik?" Raoul began after politely introducing himself.
Nadir nodded, wondering where this would lead to.
"Do you know if he's a good duel fighter?"
The Daroga nearly fainted when he heard that question. Now he knew what Erik was up to - he pretended to want to settle this like gentlemen would, in an honorable duel, only that the Daroga knew already that this boy wouldn't never stand a chance, even considering that Erik had not been fighting duels for years - at least Nadir hoped he hadn't, he didn't know for sure. Erik would be able to kill that boy even when he had both legs and one hand in chains.
"Why do you ask?" Nadir asked, but he already knew the answer. So this was Erik's plan - he had not tried to do it the reasonable way and talk to Raoul's elder brother, asking him to keep the lovesick boy in line, he wanted to kill the boy!
"He challenged me," answered Raoul, not wanting to tell a stranger too many details. He could not know what that man already knew.
Nadir smiled a very friendly smile as he replied softly: "You might as well tell me. I know that Erik is in love with Mademoiselle Daae who is your fiancee."
Raoul nodded, speechless.
"Have you already accepted the challenge?"
"Not yet. Since he challenged me I am the one to decide on the weapons and I haven't decided yet."
"Decline and board the next ship out of France," the Persian advised, his voice dark an threatening. He had seen too many men die at Erik's merciless and skilled hands, men who were experienced elite soldiers or well-known assassins. What chance would a boy have against the Azrael, the Sultana's Angel of Death?
Raoul's head shot up and his eyes became hard. "No! I'm no coward! Either I can kill or incapacitate him or I will die trying." Brave words, but Nadir knew that there was not the slightest chance for the boy to win, not even if Erik was stinking drunk.
The Persian shook his head. "My dear boy..."
"It's Vicomte de Chagny for you, sir," Raoul snapped, annoyed that he was treated like a child when he was a grown up man and marine officer.
Nadir knew that all bravery wouldn't help the boy against Erik. "I'm sorry, sir," he said gently, "To an old man like me almost everyone looks like a young boy." He wasn't that old, he only felt very old after all he'd been through and all he had seen - it was too much for seven lifetimes! He cleared his throat and told Raoul: "I have seen Erik fight. He is a master with every weapon and he does not value any rules of duels. To him nothing but victory counts - and he does not consider drawing first blood or incapacitating the opponent as victory. To Erik, victory is only one thing: a dead opponent. Erik earned his livelihood for years as master executioner, giving the man the chance to win his life in a duel - but of course no one ever bested Erik."
"So you are telling me that he has an unfair trick?"
"I wish it was only that, for then I could find out what that trick was an counter it. No. Erik is a skilled and merciless fighter. Forgive me, sir, but I doubt that you ever killed a man before in a duel," Nadir tried to put it diplomatically, "and even skilled assassins fell under Erik's lasso."
"I wouldn't pick a lasso," Raoul replied somewhat dumbfounded. Why on earth would he pick a lasso as weapon of choice?
"This does not matter," the Persian answered with a heavy sigh, "Erik is a master of all weapons I know."
"It is impossible to master all weapons!" the Vicomte exclaimed, "I've learned fencing with different weapons and pistol-shooting, but surely one can't master all weapons in the world!"
Nadir gave this some thought. "You are right. I have never seen Erik using a firearm, though he does have some, I'm not sure if he's practicing with them or not."
"That's it! He can't cheat with a pistol - not when our seconds watch every movement and take him down if he tries something odd according to the rules of honorable duels. I do have a fair chance against him in a pistol duel!" Raoul exclaimed excitedly.
"I doubt you have any chance - even if Erik wasn't able to use a pistol," Nadir tried to reason, "Erik is a master illusionist and he loves so much to cheat, it can never be a fair duel!"
Raoul would hear none of it. In his mind he already formed a plan, he would use his own pistols and load them himself, he would have his brother as his second, pointing a loaded gun at Erik all the time until the duel was over. Of course Erik would have a fair chance with a fine pistol, but it would be a fair and honorable duel. Even if his opponent did not value honor or fairness he, the Vicomte de Chagny, wouldn't lower himself to cheating.
As much as the Persian tried to persuade Raoul not to accept the challenge, the young man's mind was set and he hurried home to discuss with his brother what to do next.
Raoul hurried home. He found his brother nervously pacing the grand salon as if he was very worried.
"Raoul!" Phillippe exclaimed, his voice shaking with distress, "What did you learn?"
"That a pistol duel would be fair for Erik can't cheat then," Raoul answered, astonishing himself with his calmness.
"Fair - but that does not mean you have an advantage, and even if you had, there is no guarantee that you win..."
"There is no guarantee that he will win either," Raoul replied, "I'm much younger, according to what Christine told me, and he has lived in the Opera for years - he will be blinded by the sunlight for he's no longer used to it."
"Raoul, do you really expect me to watch you risking your life for that singer? You are my brother, I love you, can't you just not accept the challenge?" Phillippe's voice was shaking so badly he was not sure he could talk much longer. Raoul mistook this as his brother being worried, but Phillippe wished he could tell his brother the truth and wouldn't have to lie. He felt cheap lying to his brother and leading the younger man into a trap. Betraying his own brother, even if it was for his best, was terrible.
"Miss the only chance to eliminate that threat from our lives?" Raoul stared at his brother angrily, "Certainly not! How could Christine and I ever be happy together if we always have to worry if Erik will find us and take revenge?"
"Call the police..."
"And make a fool of myself? Do you really think if anyone ever believed that there was a Phantom of the Opera the police wouldn't have tried to arrest him? They'd just declare me and Christine mad," the Vicomte retorted, "No, we're on our own."
The Comte wondered what Raoul wanted to say with "we" - him and his brother or him and that damned singer? "Raoul, can't you just be reasonable and break the engagement with the singer? She's an opera singer, for heaven's sake, brother, she's none of us! Think of the reputation of your family, if you do not value your own! She's good material to become a mistress, but never a wife!"
Raoul grabbed his brother's shirt and shook him violently as he yelled at him: "She's no 'material'! She's my future wife and future mother to my children and if you don't accept that I'd rather renounce my own name than not marry her!"
"Raoul, please, I..."
"Not one word, brother, or I will never call you my brother again!"
Phillippe fell silent. Would Raoul ever forgive him what he was doing now? Would he be able to live with the guilt? He knew perfectly well that he was betraying his brother now, but what was the alternative? Let the young fool risk his life for some stage hog? For a woman with questionable reputation who was known to spend weeks unchaperoned in the flat of Raoul's rival? If she couldn't be faithful before marriage - what would she do once they were married? Phillippe didn't know that Christine was a virtuous girl, he just drew his conclusions from what he saw. And a young woman who spends weeks unchaperoned in the house of a man who is mad with love for her - what else could he think than that she had already betrayed his poor naive brother? Maybe not of her own free will, but she had. Maybe he was just trying to justify his own actions but that moment Phillippe was convinced he was doing what would be best for his brother.
Raoul stepped back, surprised that his brother would back down. "So you do help me now?" he asked.
Phillippe nodded. "I know I shouldn't, but yes, if you want to accept the challenge of your rival, then yes, I'd help you - if I can." It was the truth, more or less, but it felt like a lie.