Reborn From the Cosmos

Miniarc-Meet the Parents-11 (Remmings)

Baron Ethan Remmings stared at his reflection in the tall, ornate mirror with a critical eye. As one who worked with the mind, he understood more than most the power of appearance. Clothing could be a potent tool, if wielded correctly. The right impression could safeguard a kingdom or doom it to the Abyss. For that reason, every piece of his outfit was chosen with intention.

Black trousers and jackets, the color of the interrogators and the color of mourning. A subtle hint that he didn’t approve of the state of Quest, as it would do no good to speak as much aloud. A red shirt, the color of love and passion. The love he had for his daughter. Finally, his gold accessories, the color of prosperity. The color of good intentions. It along with red were the colors of Harvest, a pointed declaration of his loyalty to the crown.

A somewhat festive appearance of a man happily meeting his only disciple’s love interest to a casual observation but steeped in meaning for the discerning. A test, one of many he planned for the night.

Remmings wasn’t an emotional man. In his line of work, he couldn’t afford to be. Once, he had been ambitious, eager to use his affinity to rise above the common circumstances of his voice. His reputation as a young man was disastrous and his days treacherous as he secretly warred with the Grimoire family and their cabal under the previous king. Watching the way those monsters twisted the minds of those without adequate protection killed any love Remmings had for his magic. Seeing it commit so much evil, he couldn’t view the mental affinity as anything but a poisonous thing.

Yet, it was his duty to wield it, to protect the kingdom. The crown would have him root out traitors and the exceptionally criminal, but he saw his true mission as hunting down those that abused the mind. Rogue mental casters were hunted down by the interrogators with ruthless efficiency. And while the Grimoires were untouchable, it was his life’s goal to dismantle them.

Until he met his disciple.

The interrogators were one of the few organizations in the kingdom that actively hunted for members. Those with the mental affinity were too valuable and too rare. If they weren’t found by agents of the crown, unscrupulous nobles would use them for unscrupulous ends. Potential interrogators needed to be found as quickly as possible, as proper ethics and morals needed to be instilled in youth if they were to hold true.

Remmings was discovered at the age of ten. His situation reflected the norm; an interrogator came to his village and guided him through casting a simple mental spell. When his affinity was discovered, his parents were moved to the capital and given good jobs. Remmings was given a place in one of the few schools of the city, given the chance to study alongside noble and wealthy sons. Three days of the week, after his schooling, a junior member of the interrogators tutored him. Eventually, he became a junior member himself, starting his career by running errands inane errands, including his own tutoring.

There were all manner of unsavory rumors about what the interrogators did to increase their numbers but the organization, and his mental affinity that introduced him to them, had been nothing but a blessing for himself and his family. He had power, both magical and political, and he had prestige, including his own title. There were plenty of dark aspects to his work, but he took pride in doing it. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. However, his experience wasn’t everyone’s.

He was born a commoner, but he was a sensible young man from a sensible family. As a child, he admired the interrogators but once he was older, he realized what he saw as saintly benevolence was duty. His family was moved to the capital and he was given schooling but those were problems easily solved by a bag of gold. What he took as strictness from his tutor was instead rigid apathy.

Remmings didn’t think of himself as a prideful man. He also considered himself an honest one. Despite the former and because of the latter, he considered himself the best the interrogators had to offer. They drilled ethics into their members but those could easily be bent and outright compromised for the right perks. For some, those ethics never took hold properly. Especially in the orphans.

It was easy to teach children from loving, stable homes to protect the trust and values of the kingdom. Those from broken homes, who lived their lives learning to trust no one and to do whatever it took to survive? They took the opportunity from the interrogators but it didn’t inspire loyalty. They listened to the lectures on morality with one ear while plotting. They became the interrogators that made deals in back rooms and worked “extra hours”.

All the most problematic members of his order came from broken homes. They needed healing, but the kingdom gave them chains. It was a recipe for disaster, proven time and time again. Remmings turned his gaze from it, preferring to focus on the problems he could solve and hoping his reputation would keep them in line.

Because of that, it was three years before he discovered Talia and it was by accident. One of the junior members was complaining about being assigned to teach her, loudly. Remmings normally ignored the venting of the younger members, but he was intrigued about the story of a young blind girl with a thirst for learning. He stepped into the conversation to reprimand the junior and then he informed him that he would be sitting in on the next lesson.

That meeting changed his life.

He came in expecting a hungry, shifty soul. Instead, he found something pure. A pure drive for self-improvement. Umphrieltalia didn’t feel slighted by her impairment. She didn’t get angry with her lacking tutor. She didn’t have ambitions for political power or wealth. All she cared about was the magic. Not just using it but mastering it. Improving it and through so, herself. She wanted power, not for any endgame but for power itself.

Beyond that, she had talent. Remmings didn’t become the head interrogator because he was the strongest mental caster, not at first. Even now, there were a handful that rivaled him in power, if not skill. He rose to the top by being willing to do the hard work as well as the dirty work. By being the previous king’s dog and the current’s staunch ally in a world full of opportunists and enemies.

Talia was different. She had a sharp mind but, more importantly, she had an intimidating level of focus. Her tutor saw her lack of eyesight and doubted she could learn the basic spells of the interrogators. Remmings watched as the young man fought impatience to explain every symbol, Talia’s face as expressive as a wall as she pictured them. Then he watched as she cast the spell, over and over, until her core was empty. Everyday, her dedication not waning a single second.

Until one day, he walked in to her casting a spell she hadn’t been taught. It wasn’t revolutionary but she’d intuited it from what she already learned. She was a genius, one who drew strength from her circumstances rather than let them twist her.

That day, he saw a vision of the future. A new interrogators, led by an impartial master too powerful to be cowed by any noble or even the crown. A leader that could inspire, that the displaced could relate to and whose story would shame the privileged. She was a shining light that would dispel generations of darkness.

That day, Remmings asked the girl if she wanted to come home with him. Asked, not demanded, for even at a young age, Talia knew her own mind. She agreed and from then on, she became his focus. All his wealth, all his experience, all his connections.

At some point, his hopes became genuine affection. Talia never warmed up to him. It stung at first, but the wound scarred over the years when he realized she didn’t warm to anyone. It also didn’t stop him from thinking of her as a daughter. In the beginning, he would deny the misunderstandings of his peers. But the longer they spent together, the more her talent was cultivated and the more he liked the idea of Talia being his legacy.

He thought she shared his dream. They’d discussed it. Planned for it. Her tenure at the Grand Hall was meant to make connections that would go a long way in the future.

When he didn’t hear from her for a long time, he didn’t think anything of it. The message declaring she wouldn’t be returning to the capital raised a brow but also didn’t inspire concern. It was only when his own connections in the Hall sent word that she was involved with Lourianne Tome, the subject of many terrible scandals, that he got worried, but not overly. It was long overdue, but every woman lost her head to love. Remmings was confident that he could straighten out his wayward disciple with a visit.

Only after being rebuffed in person did Remmings begin to fear for the beautiful future he imagined. He could feel his dream collapsing with every moment. His Talia, as imposing and immovable as the frozen mountains of the north, had changed. It wasn’t just reckless love he had to pry her from, but the arms of a city-leveling monster. Worse? He didn’t know if he intended to drag her back to the interrogators for her own good or for his. Not when throughout her visit with him, she remained decisive

Being a master of the mind didn’t mean he could understand his own. He hoped tonight would give him a better understanding of the situation. Or it would spell his demise. Lady Tome struck him as a vengeful person.

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