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Lorin pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “That,” he muttered, as if to himself, “Went as well as I thought it would’ve.” Which was not well at all.
The Chief Inspector lowered his eyes to the grain of the bar, ignoring the questioning stares of both the bartender and his superior. Munin had simply walked out. It certainly wasn’t his ideal situation, but it also wasn’t the worst. Sometimes you just had to roll with the punches. Lorin could do that. Lorin was good at that.
Not with the detective though, as evidence proved. Munin was still reeling from her brother’s death. It wasn’t a good choice to bring it up with how fragile she seemed to be.
But even if she was fragile, she still held that same spine of steel both her and her brother had, and she’d pick herself up again to keep walking on until the day Hugin’s death was solved. It scared him a bit, knowing just how much of Munin’s life was planned only up until that point. There was no after. There was no other ending.
“Would you like to talk about it, Inspector?” The sly voice of Argos weaseled in, cutting through Lorin’s thoughts. The bartender shot him a tight-lipped smile, expression advertising empathy and understanding.
Lorin wouldn’t let himself be fooled by that face, though. The man was a bartender. He inserted suggestions into questions, temptations into offerings. Whether it was secrets or coin he sought, both could be caught with the net he weaved with his silver tongue. Not to mention the Rex situation.
The situation with Rex, Munin had said to him once, scathing, was that there was no situation at all. Law and order; crime and punishment; he punished as the rules demanded and followed protocol as if gospel. A ritualistic sort of man, and one Munin didn’t get along with.
He wasn’t certain if talking about the detective in front of Rex would be good. He wasn’t sure if talking about the detective to anyone would be good.
But maybe it was because of the date and maybe because the alcohol had loosened his lips enough, Lorin heaved a heavy sigh and asked both men, “How much do you know about her brother?”
Rex eyed him with the same sort of apprehension he eyed emotional citizens and willful criminals. “He’s dead,” the man delivered, with the same grace as a punch to the stomach. Lorin closed his eyes and prayed he’d never say that to Munin’s face.
Argos had paused with a faux-thinking face. “He was killed three years ago in the same event that killed late Queen Agoria,” the bartender supplied, polishing a cup. With a graceful flick of his wrist to flip the cocktail shaker beside him through the air, he uncapped and poured the liquid in a single, smooth motion, pausing their conversation to deliver it to another customer. “I believe he worked alongside the detective as her partner.”
Lorin nodded, mostly toward Argos. “I wouldn’t go blabbing, but as far as information goes, it’s pretty worthless because he’s dead.” He took a swig from the glass cup in front of him as if to prepare himself. “His name was Hugin. He was her twin and worked with her as a detective.”
Argos nodded in acknowledgment, countenance thoughtful. “So your well-wishes today weren’t simply for her,” he summarized. “Their relationship was that close?”
Rex looked like he’d been offered a quarter of lime as an appetizer and had eaten it out of politeness and was currently suppressing his emotions. That could’ve just been his usual face, though; the man was hard to read.
“You could never find one without the other unless they were on a case,” Lorin answered, frowning at his drink. “The two of them moved in sync like they were extensions of each other. They knew each other better than anyone else.” He gave a wry smile. “Should’ve figured three years wasn’t enough to talk about it.”
“People grieve at their own pace,” Argos offered, soft. Lorin couldn’t trust his sincerity, though. He could only sigh and accept it.
Surprisingly, it was Rex who spoke next. “What was he like?”
Lorin’s eyebrows raised. Rex frowned back at him. His stare, just as intense as ever, cut into him. There was a silence as neither of them spoke up.
Finally, Lorin surrendered. “Witty. Intelligent. Charismatic. Whatever I say, it’ll sound like I’m praising him.” He smothered a snort into his drink. “His hobby was crafts and talking circles around people. He liked acting pleasant to people while insulting them to their face.” Lorin looked toward Argos, assessing. “Not unlike you.”
“I could hardly compare myself with one of Silvernia’s great detectives,” the man simpered.
Lorin pointed a finger at him. “Like that,” he informed Rex. “He didn’t do it for a living, though. Much too focused on solving mysteries.” Rubbing at his face, Lorin recalled, “For both of them, mysteries were one of their greatest weaknesses.”
“Truly?”
“Well.” Lorin drained the last of his drink. He cradled the crystal glass in his hands anyways as if it would give him strength. “Up until three years ago, that was true.”
There was a pause as Lorin stopped to try and figure out the words for it. He gave another heavy exhale. “I didn’t see Munin right after it happened,” he admitted, “But I know she saw him die.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from both his conversation partners. It wasn’t surprising. To see your family, your most beloved person be killed right before your eyes— it was cruel. Especially for people as close as Munin and Hugin were.
The two were rarely seen without each other, stuck together as if there was no place for them if not by each other’s side. A package deal, if one would; you didn’t get Munin if you didn’t want Hugin and vice versa. The only real time they separated was during investigations to cover more ground. Even then, they’d always return to each other the moment they could.
“I don’t know all the details,” Lorin continued, pushing past his discomfort, “But from what I know, it was because Hugin was protecting her.”
It had been a late night, and it was something she’d let slip when she’d gotten incensed from his badgering over her lack of sleep. Munin’s voice from earlier echoed in his ears like a haunting melody: Do you want me to say I stopped missing him? It overlapped with what she’d said that night: Do you want me to say I don’t see Hugin die for me again when I close my eyes?
He hoped Firtho had helped. By god, he hoped Munin was at least able to close her eyes without that image burned behind her eyelids. She’d admitted she’d gone to her childhood friend, though Lorin wasn’t sure if she was able to get the kind of stabilizers she so desperately needed. Their relationship was amicable enough, and he didn’t want to risk straining it by prying.
“Anyways,” Lorin barreled on, blithely ignoring all the consequences there will be to his actions, “Hugin.” Lorin attempted to take another sip from his cup, only to abort the motion since it had been emptied. “If you ever wonder what he looked like, just imagine a taller, male Munin.” He wrinkled his nose. “When they were younger, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.”
“Surely not,” Rex voiced, doubtful. “Even for twins, there are tells.”
“Maybe if they didn’t try. But they went by each other’s names and acted the exact same. They wore the same clothes then, too.” That reminds him. “The kidnappers couldn’t tell either.”
“Kidnappers, you say.” Even Argos sounded a bit off guard at the word. “I expected them to have run into trouble from their line of work, but that’s a surprise.”
There was a thoughtful look on Rex’s face. “Was this the case of traffickers targeting young girls that made the news years ago?”
“Yeah,” Lorin confirmed, unsurprised at his knowledge. “The two weren’t as well-known back then, but according to Munin, one of their other cases had ties to the kidnappers.” He scowled at the memory, tracing his fingertips along the textures of his glass. “They weren’t careful enough to go unnoticed, so they were targeted as retaliation.”
“If I recall correctly, the group was trafficking young women to sell them for profit.” Rex laced his hands together, staring into Lorin as if he could uncover his secrets just like that. “I presume the detectives foiled their plot somehow?”
“So confident in their abilities, Superintendent?” Argos asked, playful.
Rex returned it with a simple raise of his brow. “May I remind you,” he said, dry, “That Queen Agoria bestowed upon them a personal reactor for their title as Silvernia’s best detectives?”
Argos shrugged, though the grin on his face hadn’t faded a single bit. He really was too similar to Hugin in some ways.
“They did bring them down,” Lorin said, reminiscing. “I’d never seen Munin that angry before that.”
Argos’s lips twitched into a humored smile before stifling it for something more suitable. “How exactly did they do it?”
“Would you believe me,” Lorin asked, dead serious, “If I said it was because of some shiny rocks?”
There were some skeptical looks Lorin received. He understood. It was the same face he had made when Munin had told him about the case.
“They’d already pinpointed the general location of their hideout, but since the area was still pretty big, they ran into some issues on investigating them one by one." Closing his eyes, Lorin thought back. The stubborn way Munin stood her ground and made them follow that seemingly random trail until they'd found men muttering about a particularly stubborn "catch" causing trouble. "Hugin had a collection of rocks on him for some reason, so he was throwing them at his kidnappers while marking his trail. It was easy to gather up forces and take them all into custody. As for the customers who bought those young women…" Lorin gave a helpless gesture to indicate his ignorance.
It was Rex who took over, surprisingly. "Witness testimonials caused the crown to strip numerous nobles of their titles due to abuse of power and black market trades. The victims were compensated with the confiscated property and money." When both Argos and Lorin turned to stare at him in disbelief, he defended, "This was all in the news."
"It was," Argos agreed. He emptied another cocktail into the awaiting glass, decanting the contents with a far longer stream than necessary. "The news of nobles being stripped of their titles came long after, however, so many people hadn't realized they were connected to the kidnapping case." Just like me, went unsaid.
Lorin was pretty sure they had some coverups too, considering it would've been hard to soften the backlash and riots if so many aristocrats were caught buying young, mostly commoner women.
Rex didn't reply. He sat silently again, just as he had for most of the night, demure and polite enough to fool an observer into thinking he wouldn't bite.
Lorin very graciously decided it was time to cut the awkwardness. "The point is," he said with a clearing of his throat, "Was that the two of them were inseparable. And Hugin died protecting Munin."
"She's not completely come to terms with her grief," Argos concluded. He garnished another drink with lemon zest, delivering it into the awaiting hands of another customer with a plastic grin. When he turned to look at Lorin, consideration clouded his eyes. "That's why she hasn't been sleeping, isn't it?"
Lorin contemplated a white lie. Argos was a slippery man. He fought for secrets and coin using a smooth mouth and cunning wit. There was no guarantee what he would do with the information Lorin could give.
At the same time, Munin had trusted him. She'd trusted him enough to talk about Hugin in front of him, trusted him enough to not wield that information about her grief to cut her open and sell her out.
Lorin would trust her judgement. "Don't questions you already know the answer to." He gave a bitter, bitter smile. "Be kind with her, yeah? She's already got enough on her mind."
"The detective hardly needs something as menial as kindness," Argos rebuked, not unkind.
Lorin would disagree, but what would he know? Neither flowers or pretty words could soften the impact her brother's death had.
The thing Munin needed most was something nobody but Hugin could provide for her.