Author's notes: No cliffhanger this time, this solves everything. Time to bring the Fop back into the storyline and avoid all the running around in circles. This is actually an important chapter, though it takes place a bit before the last one. Anyway, the timeline isn't important. It's the story that matters! And things will heat up in the next EC encounter, I promise you!

Mominator – thanks! I base a lot of Reza on Kay´s Phantom. He's a nice kid. A shame he's so sick.

Mina – don't worry, but I'll be on vacation again from August 1st to the 7th, I'm going to Rome. Who knows, maybe I'll find Giovanni's house ! ;-)

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Chapter XIX

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"This is outrageous!"

Philippe de Chagny inwardly rolled his eyes, since he wasn't able to do it outwardly, though he barely resisted the temptation. The Count was usually very patient with people and well behaved in almost every case, but the bickering of these Persian politicians was almost ridiculous, since it was obvious that while the well being of the nation was also considered here, it was much more of a personal dispute between two men.

For several weeks now, they had been attempting to make a deal. His job and his brother's was mostly to sit back and watch the goings-on in Persia, then report back what they had seen to the French government or whoever was currently in charge of the state. Naturally, the Persians, while they played the roles of hospitable hosts, were fully aware that they were risking their so far quite good relationship with the faraway European country, should they mistreat the ambassadors. Thus whatever the three visitors desired, they received, they were treated with utmost care and had a priority that perhaps surpassed even the diplomatic level.

Time and time again, however, during these so-called Council meetings, even the "sit back and watch" type task was proving extremely annoying. The Grand Vizier, Mirza Tarqui Khan, who seemed to be the most liberal politician of all of them, was once again giving counter-statements to the suggestions of the shah's primary advisor, as the man had been introduced to the Comte de Chagny. And the exchange of opinions was as loud as ever.

Philippe wished he could sigh. Where were the modern meetings where the chamber was not a war room? Had they returned to the medieval times, where knights drew their swords at each other for a plain verbal insult? The East progressed more slowly than the West, true, but still, he expected a bit more control from men who were supposed to be running a country with the history of more than a millennium.

At least their "negotiations" would be over within a fortnight, plus-minus a week. Then it would only be a peaceful trip back home, with the pleasing thought that they were putting all this bickering behind. He glanced over his brother, who seemed to be bored by all the shouting. But even if Raoul would get drowsy enough to fall asleep, the ringing voice of the Grand Vizier wouldn't allow him the luxury of slipping into unconsciousness.

The Vicomte had also been surprised by this type of meeting at first, but had gotten used to it eventually. It was one of the reasons he treasured his free time so. Talking to Christine was far more pleasurable than listening to what was close to a catfight in the halls of the palace. But Christine was gone, visiting a friend, she said… the daroga, he remembered, trying to think and keep track of the conversations at the same time. That would mean there was nothing to look forward to later, with the exception of peaceful silence.

The heated exchange of opinions continued, the Grand Vizier's loud voice clashing into the soft, dark replies he received from Erik. Back and forth, like a game of tennis it went and such conversations mostly ended with the Grand Vizier storming out of the chamber, as surly as ever, with his loyal band of followers following hurriedly. No one besides Khan had the guts to stand up against Erik in the open, but it was known that as his power grew, the numbers of his enemies swelled. Still it wasn't enough to wipe the ironic sneer from his face or dim the anger flashing in his eyes.

Again, it took a few minutes even when his enemy was gone for him to regain control over the situation. Nadir wasn't there today, which was a shame, since the daroga always had a way to cool his temper, if only partially. Where Nadir got the knack for doing that and how come he never got the urge to strangle the Persian after being pacified at times like a child, he really didn't know. The fact remained that they got along rather well.

"What a great way of discussing things." he heard the Viscount de Chagny mutter to his brother as they stood up. In return, his brother almost elbowed him sharply, far more aware than the boy that they weren't yet alone in the room.

"Isn't the Persian government everything you dreamed and more, Monsieur le Vicomte?" Erik wasn't entirely sure why he chose to speak with the pair, especially with the Vicomte. Undoubtedly, his preference of a conversation would have been with someone entirely different, perhaps even the Comte, who for one was more mature and tactful and also had a greater influence over the happenings in the palace, whether he knew or not.

The boy looked up at the masked man, smiling wearily. "I am not much for heated debates, Monsieur. This is almost like being in a gladiator arena. I can't imagine how you manage to withstand the pressure."

"Long-term training."

"The Grand Vizier had some points, but he sees things from a somewhat radical point of view." Philippe interrupted, receiving Erik's full attention. "While progress is crucial, you cannot change a country in a day. Supporters he may have, but noble ideas and speeches of civilized world and advanced thinking seem to remain only words when it comes to the main decisions. I think the shah is better off with your ideas, Monsieur. Hasted reformation can cause a rebellion from the masses, and that is the last thing a country needs."

"France is an obvious example of that." Erik said with a nod. "Your support is much appreciated, Monsieur le Comte. I would assume you get on well with the shah, since he seems to have a similar way of thinking."

"His majesty has been kind to us." The Comte almost seemed to smirk faintly. "After the experiences with you, I would assume he expects all of us Europeans to live up to at least half of the standard you have set. I have heard of your request to rebuild Tehran, should the shah be satisfied with the new palace he mentioned."

"That is true. Architecture is somewhat of my obsession, an art I value more than some others."

"Is there any art you haven't yet mastered, Monsieur?" Raoul asked, almost bewildered.

"My past is colorful and my life could hardly be called easy. Need forced me to learn, but I value all the beauty of this world. For me, science and art are sanctuaries. Mastering them was my goal for many years and, forgive my vanity, I have largely succeeded over quite a short period of time. Which is one of the reasons I am more influential than most around here."

He paused for a moment, observing Raoul. "And you, sir, are still willing to see some of the illusions I can create? Usually you would have to pay a fine… but you are a guest here and a nobleman, so I shall give up my pursuit of wealth for the moment and grant you a free performance some time, if you wish it."

"I would be honored, but I assume my fiancée wouldn't want to miss such a wonderful show." Raoul failed to notice the knuckles of Erik's hands whiten when he griped his cape, having been tracing the fabric for some time now. "Alas, Christine is away on a visit today, but rest assured I will tell her to keep a day free for this."

That caught his attention. "A visit? Your fiancée is so quick to make friendships? Or does she have family here, if I might inquire?"

"The former, I assume. She didn't say much, but obviously knew I had too much to deal with to accompany her. Rest assured, I doubt she will come to any harm when visiting the resident chief of police." Raoul added with a slight smile.

Underneath the mask, Erik arched an eyebrow delicately. "Chief of police? The daroga of Mazenderan? Nadir Khan?" If so, there would be hell to pay. Christine might be unaware of the purpose of such a visit, but he knew… he knew all too well.

"Indeed, I believe so." Curse that man's inquisitiveness! "She will be back in the evening. If I remember correctly, the gentleman is a friend of yours, so I would assume he is trustworthy."

"Without a doubt." Erik tried to keep the anger out of his voice, mostly succeeding. Trustworthy, naturally. Turn your back for a moment and a full-scale investigation of your background begins. If he weren't so indebted to the man… Damn him!

"Typical Mademoiselle Daaé." Philippe noted with a sigh, "I do hope you manage to tame the Prima Donna behavior a bit in time, Raoul."

"I happen to like Christine the way she is." said Raoul, almost stubbornly. "All she will be changing is her last name."

"And social rank." His brother added in a mutter. "A Vicomtesse has responsibilities far beyond those she has had up till now."

"May I inquire as to how you have met your lady, Vicomte?" Erik asked with forced politeness. There was absolutely no chance Christine would say, nor that he would ask her. Thus he went past the question of what she had been before the engagement quickly, but so far avoided any suspicions. After all, the question he asked was meaningful enough.

After a glance at his brother, who seemed to approve telling the general story to even somewhat of a stranger, Raoul took a deep breath. "We have known each other since childhood, Monsieur." Erik almost snorted. Christine had never, ever mentioned him, even when he asked her about her past. "I doubt she remembers everything, we were very young. We met when her father was still alive."

"He was a good man, that Daaé." Philippe interrupted when Raoul seemed to pause. "A shame he died. Sickness and poverty are hard to live with, of course, but it was somewhat of a blow to all of us. As children, his daughter and Raoul often spent time together."

"Yes, after I fetched her runaway scarf from the sea." Raoul said with a smile, "We became friends then and Monsieur Daaé used to tell us all sorts of stories, play for us or show us various things. Christine was already a wonderful singer back then, but when we parted, I had no idea she would go study voice. I suppose her father would have wished that. I think he wanted her to become a Prima Donna one day."

"And you got engaged based on a childhood friendship?" Erik asked skeptically.

"Not entirely. We met later, when Christine finished her studies. They were performing at the conservatoire – Il Muto, I think, the opera was called, she was playing the Countess – and I went to see it. She had already become the Prima Donna of the conservatoire, you could say, and had to escape admirers each time. We were reunited, courted for a while and, afterwards, we got engaged." he smiled, "Her father's stories were the link according to which she recognized me – we had both changed much. But I remembered the song, her favorite, about the Angel of Music."

"Angel of…?" Erik was catching up somewhat.

But Raoul waved the question off mid-sentence. "You have to ask her, sir, she remembers it word for word, I know only parts of it now. If you value arts so much, she would probably even sing something more renown and advanced for you, an opera aria perhaps. These songs are very simple, children poems, you could say."

"So that's why I constantly hear something about a Little Lotte when you two talk?" Philippe asked, jumping into the conversation.

"That was her favorite character, a girl who heard the Angel of Music, so I nicknamed her that. As I said, ask her." Raoul swapped topic then. "But enough of the past. I will tell her to come. I'm sure she wouldn't miss such a performance for anything."

For a moment, Erik simply looked at the Vicomte, like a silent predator would at its prey. Then, unsmiling, though it hardly mattered, he nodded with distinct politeness that Nadir would have easily distinguished as being touched by a light sarcasm, but it was so faint that neither of the Chagnys registered it.

After a brief goodbye, the masked man swept from the room, leaving the two aristocrats to continue discussing the political debate they had witnessed moments previously. As for him, he returned to his quarters, in desperate need to do something to occupy himself, something to focus his attention and, if possible, it should be non-lethal for anyone.

Rage flooded him for a second reason when he heard the tale of how "Little Lotte" met a boy who saved her scarf and ended up creating a strong bond of friendship between them that could have easily grown into love, as it had seemed to. At first glance, their relationship seemed a bit shallow and straightforward, but after learning this bit of important information, he knew that its roots ran deeper. Thanks to music, however, he managed to abandon all thoughts of hatred and anger, when he transformed them into notes. A violent, brutal melody emerged from the abyss of his mind and appeared to be strangely satisfying when he reread it. The Angel of Music had created another dark masterpiece.

Miles away, Nadir Khan shuddered at the manipulative edge to the voice he had imagined to reply to Little Lotte´s sweet song.