It was with a noticeable air of confidence that Caspian Dawson boarded the ferry to the isle of Avalonne-du-Prix, home of the famed Royal Academy of Magick. He was not alone; nearly 100 new students, freshly accepted into the Academy's elite graduate studies program, were doing their best to make sure that every available space on the ferry was occupied. Still, he was able to squeeze into a booth near a window and settled in for the two-hour journey to a magical future.
About 45 minutes into the trip—Has it really been that long already?—a noise drew his attention to the window: a helicopter flying past, bearing a crest of dragons and gold. It was a crest well-known to the people of Britannia, one that garnered respect through fear and fear alone.
Blackstone.
"Isn't that the Blackstone crest?" observed a nearby student. Others joined in on the gossip as Caspian listened with interest.
"Didn't they recently reveal that the heir of the family will be attending the Academy?"
"What? That mafia princess? No way…the Royal Family should know better than to let her into the Academy. It'll only result in disaster, I'm sure."
"No, no, no! The King himself approved her admission! I saw a special about it on TV last week!"
"He was blackmailed, no doubt. Everyone knows the King sees women on the side."
"Don't you disrespect the King like that!"
"It's the Blackstones who are the real troublemakers, focus on them!"
"Why are they even still a Blessed House?"
"Lord knows. Maybe more blackmail?"
The Blessed Houses. The noble families who first jumped at the chance to learn magic, and who now boast as much magical power as the armies of Britannia.
"No, I'm pretty sure they accepted her as a legacy. Richard Blackstone went here too, you know…"
…and thus it continued, well after the Blackstone helicopter had vanished in the direction of Avalonne-du-Prix. It was an understandable reaction; the Blackstone family was shrouded in myth, mystery, and magic, and was all-too-often used as a bogeyman for younger magicians.
Elisabeth Blackstone, daughter of Richard Blackstone, is the first publicly-confirmed member of the Blackstone house in forty years. Of course her actions are going to draw attention.
You would be forgiven for mistaking the Blackstone family as just another group of country nobles, a lesser house which was in decline—its only peerage, the Viscount Blackstone—and with only a father and daughter as members. Among the nobility of Britannia such a family was commonplace, yet the Blackstone family held the fourth-ranked seat among the Blessed Houses, the most powerful noble families in the entire kingdom.
The reason for this, of course, was their impressive financial standing and impressive chokehold on the criminal underworld of Europe.
It was an open secret that the Blackstone family were the 'true' Kings of Britannia, the ones who either approved or denied any illicit enterprise within their sphere of influence, which extended well beyond the borders of Britannia itself. It was rumored that the Blackstones were more wealthy and had more military might than Britannia and the New Roman Union combined, and there were certainly many people who believed such rumors.
Yes, thought Caspian. No matter what the truth is, the Blackstones certainly have a reputation…
And now the heir apparent was attending her father's alma mater. The Royal Academy was known for its high-end clientele and strict entry examinations, and as such was considered the center of magical society in Britannia. Research and development, military training, politicking between the Blessed Houses—the Royal Academy was the place for all of it. Elisabeth Blackstone would be an interesting addition to the mix.
Caspian allowed a small, satisfied smile to cross his face.
This will be a lot of fun.
The ferry arrived within the hour, and the once-cramped group of graduate students spread out across the small harbor of Avalonne-du-Prix with eager abandon. This harbor was not the only point of contact with the mainland, but for those without a private helicopter, it would surely be the one used most frequently. Above the harbor, on a hill somewhat skewed from the center of the island, ran the outer wall of the ancient castle rebranded "Camelot" upon the creation of the Royal Academy. Past the wall, and above the dense nestled rooftops of the academy town within the walls, the Academy Keep was clearly visible in all its intimidating glory. A wide cobblestone road led up from the harbor to a massive gate in the wall, over which sat the crest of the House of Pendragon and the gilded title, "Royal Academy of Magick for the Development of the Kingdom of Britannia."
Away from the harbor, on either side along the shore, ran two more cobblestone roads. Caspian knew from prior research that these ran to various Academy facilities—clubhouses for the societies and clubs on campus, practice spaces for many different applications of magic, arenas for magic sporting events, and the like—and formed a complete circle around the island. It was a well-designed campus, and though a part of Caspian wanted to spend time exploring the island in its entirety, he knew that doing so whilst dragging his luggage would prove most unenjoyable.
I'll check in and unpack in my room, I should have time this afternoon to explore.
Caspian steadily made his way to the academy town, taking extra caution to appreciate every minute detail as any new student from a poor background should. Ravens circled silently overhead, occasionally dropping from the strong winds to steal a bit of food from a passerby. The hearty smell of seafood hung around the docks, combined with the salty scents and unmentionables which always accompany a marina, lending to an overall atmosphere of authenticity.
It's like the Cottswalds, thought Caspian. Like I've stepped back a few hundred years…or a few decades. This place hasn't aged since it was built.
The gate road proved more elevated than he had initially guessed; though by no means out of shape, he found himself somewhat physically exhausted by the time he passed through the massive iron trestles which, he noticed, appeared to be in remarkably good condition for their supposed age.
Maybe they're fake, too, just like the name Camelot. I've got to hand it to them—they know how to turn a magical history into marketing fodder. The House of Pendragon…what a joke.
Passing through the gate revealed a true relic of the Academy's original function: a signpost, pointing the way down various warped alleys to points of interest in the town. Having once been a coastal fortress repelling Norman and Viking raiders, the maze-like entrance would have been a useful feature for disorienting unwanted guests. The signpost, no doubt a recent addition, pointed Caspian in the direction of the town square—a flyer, hastily taped to the sign, advertised new student check-in and room assignments at that location.
While the original Daedalic architecture of the city had clearly been preserved, the "town square" was an exception. It was a large, open mall, lined with seasonal oaks and consisting of arranged gardens, a gazebo with lily pond and small fountain, and a large, open field separating the two. It was perhaps half the size of a football pitch, and it seemed a popular meeting place. There were many people milling about in the square, the majority of whom were relaxing with picnic blankets and companionship on the field.
The Academy Keep was clearly visible from here, and Caspian's suspicions were confirmed: he could now clearly see that some form of light-based magic was being used to exaggerate the height of the ancient stone tower.
Perhaps a real castle didn't feel magical enough? Either way, it should have an excellent view of this square.
Though he was distracted, Caspian's heightened magical senses alerted him to something dangerous nearby, and he turned to locate the source. As he did so, he saw a handful of others—no more than ten, at most—do the same.
The aura of a magician?
But everyone here is a magician; why would one aura stand out among many?
There's only reason: power.
He found the target of his inquiry: a young woman with medium-length blonde waves, clearly beautiful, about the same height and age as him but who appeared far more mature due to her professional outfit and calm, serious demeanor.
"Hey, over there—" a voice spoke in hushed tones, "—isn't that Jessamine di Cadenza?"
"Whoa, really?" whispered another. "You're right! How lucky are we?"
Jessamine di Cadenza. That makes sense.
She might even be a little taller than me, though she is wearing pumps.
That aura is certainly nothing to joke about.
Caspian watched the blonde as she made her way along the opposite side of the square, though something seemed to catch her interest, as her pace slowed and her brows furrowed.
Suddenly, she turned and looked straight at him. Their eyes met, but Caspian did not back down. Neither did Jessamine. The blonde's brows arched even more and she began forming a slight frown…
Well now. This is interesting.
…but was interrupted by a man in a tacky suit, who seemed to Caspian to be a scout for a magic corporation. She did not look at Caspian again, even after the unwanted intrusion was over.
Jessamine di Cadenza. Daughter of Duchess Annalise di Cadenza, a close friend to the Royal Family and current director of Military Intelligence group 7. Her daughter has no official role in the government, but is known to manage family affairs in her mother's absence with a firm hand. Two younger sisters, Cheri and Cristiana. Father, deceased—car accident. She's highly renowned in Britannian culture as one of our few Master-rank magicians, and is attending the Royal Academy in preparation for her future career.
She noticed my gaze. Is that possible? A gaze alone should not elicit that response…yet she definitely noticed me, if only for a moment.
I've got to be careful around her. Though, I could use someone with her reputation to build a reputation of my own… but do the risks outweigh the rewards?
Of all the students here, she is likely in the best position to expose me.
I should stay away from her.
And yet…
And yet…
…I like taking risks.
Caspian turned his gaze to the sky, to his patient and loyal servants, and issued his command in the voice of the shadows: [Go. Follow and observe. Report anything of note. Be careful.]
The reply: [Yes, master.] It was not a reply that he heard with his ears, but one that he heard with his innermost being.
Caspian allowed one more small, eager smile to cross his face, before proceeding to a table near the field.
"Good morning! I'm here to check in."
…
Elsewhere, a meeting too secret to assign a clearance level was taking place. The ministers of the Kingdom, and all the advisors of the King, were gathered in a soundproof, airgapped room far beneath Buckingham Palace. This was the War Room of King Uther Pendragon, and it was that selfsame King who had called this meeting.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for gathering on such short notice. I understand some of you had to cut short a vacation to be here. I want to convey my deepest appreciation."
"You are our king," said the woman in red.
"And our friend," answered another man. "Uther, your tone worries me. Is something wrong?"
The King grimaced.
"I could never fool you, Cecil," he sighed.
The King stood up, slowly, and paced behind his chair.
"Our boys in Section 6 are reporting levels of unrest in the Peoples' Empire that we haven't seen since the 2034 incident, and prior to that, not since the Cold War. They've correlated this activity with an uptick in anti-Royal propaganda here at home. They believe the Empire plans to make a move, and soon."
"Assassination?"
Another man, a representative from MI6, nodded.
"I find it highly likely," the King continued, "that these designs against us will come to fruition within the coming months. We cannot say when, how, or if they will succeed. I, of course, pray they do not. But it is a King's duty to prepare for every possibility, no matter how remote."
For those who had not guessed what this meeting was about, realization was now dawning.
"You wish to name your successor to the throne."
It was not a question, but a statement.
"Indeed," he replied, taking his seat once again.
"You are aware, of course, my liege, about the various factions surrounding the succession dispute?"
The King gave a hearty chuckle.
"Oh, am I! Those petty squabbles are some of the only legitimate entertainment I get these days."
"You're not concerned about the effect this will have on the country?"
The King's eyes darkened.
"I am, truth be told," he admitted. "No matter how you look at it, the succession is a time of weakness for this country. We will surely be attacked from both sides as a test of our new monarch's will to reign. That is inevitable. However…"
The King glanced at the faces around the room, studying the emotion displayed or concealed by each.
"…however, should I die without naming my heir, well, you all are aware of that future. I need not remind you of the particulars, only that such a path is many times worse than what awaits us now."
"For what it's worth," said the woman in red, "I can confirm the suspicions of Section 6. Our own intelligence efforts have revealed many cells of foreign activity within the country. London, Dublin, Edinburgh—none of them are clean. Even the Academy has a rat problem."
"How did they get in?!" cried one, slamming the table in frustration.
"Simple: money," she replied. "Either they were able to bribe their way through our border security, or they were able to pay a competent smuggler, or they were able to buy off our own people. We can't keep out those who are already inside."
"Thank you, Anna," said the King. "You, my Round Table, know the enemies we face."
"…must you call us that, Uther? It's disgraceful."
He chuckled.
"You know their strengths," he continued, "and you know their weaknesses. You also know our own strengths and weaknesses; some of you are more intimately familiar with them than I. You know my heart, my friends. I want this country to survive. I want this country to live, free, out in the open, with no fear. Without having to watch our backs. I want to do what's right for this country. This is the only path that I see which does not end in the destruction of the great Kingdom of Britannia. What say you? Will you support this decision?"
One by one, his advisors gave their replies:
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Let the vote stand, then, six in favor and two against," said King Uther. "I shall meet my heir as soon as possible to brief them on the situation, and shall ideally make the announcement shortly afterwards."
"My liege, as to your heir—which will you choose? Morgan or Vivianne?"
A mischievous glint appeared in the eyes of King Uther.
"Neither."
…
The first day of the new term was always busy, Jessamine reflected, though this particular instance seemed perhaps more so than usual.
She had arrived at the island's quaint airport two days previously due to her position as Vice Chairwoman of the Societie Royale, the most prestigious of on-campus organizations and one which was regularly called upon to assist Academy management. The Societie was easily the most influential social force within campus culture, but much like a Greek house, it also served to connect Academy alumni across Britannia. In doing so, it provided one of the main unifying forces of magical society within the kingdom, as many of the leaders of the feuding Blessed Houses had been Societie members during their time at the Academy.
In many ways, it's the direct foil of the House of Blackstone, thought Jessamine. The Blackstone family had demanded much of her attention these past two days, and she doubted that this coming term would be any better.
Her morning had been occupied by various meetings with other organization leaders, preparing them for the influx of new students and the inevitable battle for new recruits, as well as assuring them that the Blackstone family's influence at the Academy was minimal at best.
"As far as you're concerned, she's a regular student. Please treat her as one."
That line had become so familiar to her that she didn't need to even think about the words as she repeated them to one club president after another.
Do I believe it, though?
A Blackstone, a regular student?
Jessamine grimaced.
As if. She's bound to cause trouble.
There had been something that piqued Jessamine's interest as she was making her morning rounds, though with her brain consumed by politics at the moment, she didn't care to remember.
Jessamine now began recognizing faces as she strode through the upper halls of the Academy Keep in the golden twilight of late afternoon: friends and acquaintances from her previous year, all Societie leadership, all heading to the same location as her. It was a smaller classroom arranged to feel more communal than instructive; as she entered, Jessamine saw the Societie chairman, Henry, Duke of Cahill, sitting at the far end of the room.
Henry was perhaps the closest thing to a true friend that Jessamine had, but it was a friendship of convenience more than anything else. The House of Cahill, the tenth-ranked Blessed House, often cooperated with the di Cadenza family: there were many Cahills in the upper echelons of Britannia's military, and the di Cadenza subfamilies worked almost exclusively for MI7. A strong bond of trust between the two houses had been formed over the past half century, one result of which being the similar relationship between Jessamine, the next inheritor of the di Cadenza title, and Henry, who had already inherited his family's dukedom.
That is to say: they were allies, comrades, brothers-in-arms—but not true friends.
Friends are a luxury that I cannot afford.
Not yet, at least.
Henry nodded to her solemnly, and she returned the gesture before taking her seat at his side.
They waited for the remainder of the Societie's leadership to sit before starting the meeting.
"Well, thank you all for being here," began Henry. "For those of you who are new to this Executive Board, welcome, and let me say that the best training you'll get is by observing the Board and volunteering for tasks. Beyond that, this Board will not go out of its way to train you to uphold your responsibilities. I will not say this again: become who you want to be, who you need to be.
"Now, with that out of the way, let's get started. This is our triannual State of Britannia meeting, held at the beginning of every new term, in order to recognize the challenges currently facing our kingdom and how the Societie Royale can assist in overcoming those challenges. Our first order of business is a report on the state of the Blessed Houses. Ms. Masterson, if you would?"
Hope Masterson, beginning her second term on the Societie's Executive Board, thanked the Duke for his introduction and stood.
"Again, thank you all for being here. I know we all want to proceed to our evening activities, so I'll keep this brief."
Never heard that one before…
"The general status of the Blessed Houses has not changed since the conclusion of last term," said Hope. "However, there are a handful of events of which we should take note. Rumors are swirling around the House of Pendragon naming an heir within the next few weeks; we should be prepared for faction-based conflict between students based on which heiress is selected. The House of Marshall has been spending an exorbitant amount of money recently and is due to be audited by Revenue & Customs. And, finally…"
The young woman sighed.
"…as I'm sure you're all aware, the House of Blackstone has revealed a member of their family: Elisabeth Blackstone, daughter of the Viscount Robert Blackstone. It is presumed that she is his heir, but due to the lack of information on the family, that presumption cannot be verified. Elisabeth will be attending this Academy; she arrived earlier today. There is speculation that this is a ploy by the Blackstones to obtain influence within the walls of Camelot, due to the family's presumed weakness in the area of magic and magic-accelerated combat. However, counter-speculation argues that the Blackstones would not use such overt tactics. I hesitate to reference rumors in this report, but I have provided these as examples of the gossip that is fast spreading among the student body. While we cannot control the rumor mill, we should be prepared for a possible conflict between students. This concludes my report."
"Thank you, Ms. Masterson," said Henry. He swiveled in his seat to once again face the gathered Board. "I have an additional comment as to that last point. Ms. Blackthorne has been recommended for a place in our Societie by the Academy's administration."
An audible gasp spread throughout the room. Jessamine, who had been briefed the day before, sighed inwardly but did not let her discontent show.
"Rest assured, she will not be on this Board," Henry continued, attempting to maintain control. "She will simply be a regular member of the Societie, subject to the authority of this Board, the Vice Chairwoman, and myself, same as any other member. The Academy believes that it is the responsibility of this Societie to maintain peace between the Blessed Houses of Britannia, and allowing Ms. Blackstone to share in that responsibility could drastically improve the state of this kingdom. There is also, I suspect, regret from the Academy that Ms. Blackstone's father was not a member of this Societie, for similar reasons."
The murmurings among the gathered Societie leadership began to die down.
"Now, with that settled, I believe we can move on—"
"Actually, Chairman, I'd like to give a report and an opinion myself," said Jessamine, tacking on, "if you don't mind."
Henry was startled, but not upset.
"Please, go ahead."
"Thank you," she said, with a reserved, polite nod to her colleague. "I'll start with my report. I have recently been informed of some disturbing statistics. Over the last four months, foreign activity within Britannia has increased threefold. Numerous instances of corporate and military espionage have been reported, and it appears that the enemies of Britannia have successfully embedded undercover operatives within many public and private institutions. The di Cadenza family is aware of this infiltration and is taking steps to correct it, but currently the scope of the suspected infiltration is beyond our ability to remediate. The one bastion in all of this, until recently, has been the Academy."
Jessamine glanced around the room, waiting for the full effect of her words to sink in.
"Until recently?"
It was Hope Masterson who asked. Jessamine recognized the worry in her eyes, and nodded.
"We have reason to believe that such agents may be among the incoming class," she replied. "There were irregularities among the various examination centers across Britannia, and counterintelligence efforts have uncovered references to the Academy as a point of interest. Of course, it cannot be confirmed, but we should proceed on the assumption that some among the incoming class have been compromised by a foreign power."
Henry's eyes carried a grave expression, and he stroked his short-trimmed beard thoughtfully.
"I agree," he said. "We should take necessary precautions, but we should also do our best to avoid alerting the enemy of our intentions."
"Yes, sir," said Jessamine. "That is the purpose for my report. We believe that only the incoming class is affected, which means that the members of this Board may be implicitly trusted. However, we must be careful, as the Chairman said."
"You said you had an opinion, as well?" asked Henry.
"In matters of military intelligence, coincidences are rare and should be treated with caution. The fact that the Academy may be a target for foreign espionage while Elisabeth Blackstone is beginning her first term here cannot be overlooked."
"You suspect the Blackstone family is involved?"
"Indeed, though I cannot say to what extent."
Henry nodded.
"Understood. Is that the end of your report?"
"It is."
"Very well, then, we will discuss this in detail another time. Let us continue."
The remainder of the meeting was mostly logistical in nature, and neither the Blackstone family nor the potential Academy spies were brought up again.
As Jessamine waited for the meeting to conclude, having said her part, she noticed a raven perched silently on the windowsill. She cocked her head in curiosity; the bird mimicked the gesture, meeting her gaze with a level of confidence unusual for such a creature.
What does this remind me of?
A scene flashed through her mind: eyes, strong eyes, a young man across the square—the oddity she had felt while walking—no time, must hurry…
…muddied voices, saying: "She's had a long few days, and has been doing more than any of us…"
Jessamine's eyes snapped open, kicking herself for falling asleep during a meeting of Societie leadership.
Unacceptable.
She looked at the time; it would be dark soon, she needed to get dinner and then meet with one of her professors. As a second-year graduate student, her classes consisted entirely of individual meetings with professors between periods of self-led research, and she had scheduled the first such meeting for… An hour and a half from now. Not much prep time.
Hurriedly, she exited the Academy Keep while debating between dinner options. The Academy's mess hall was open around-the-clock, but at this time of night on the first day of the term would be absolutely packed.
I wouldn't make it to my meeting if I went there. I'll try one of the taverns around town.
Jessamine was entering the square when, to her surprise, she heard a loud voice coming from the gazebo. A girl's voice, perhaps one of the new students.
"I heard about you, you know… the only person in the world who's unable to chant magic. How pathetic!"
The sound of haughty laughter floated over to where Jessamine stood, hidden by the shadow of the Keep.
A bullying incident, then. I guess I should intervene…
"I don't remember asking for your opinion."
…guess not. Who was that?
Jessamine did not approach the gazebo, but she was able to make out a young woman standing in front of a young man. She did not recognize the woman, and it took her a second to recognize the young man who just spoke.
Is that the guy from earlier?
The girl's face had darkened considerably, her false smile replaced by a genuine scowl.
"Do you know who I am?"
Do I know her? Should I know her?
Now it was the man's turn to laugh.
"Does it matter? This Academy has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to bullying. I'd be more concerned about whether or not chanted magic will be able to save you from expulsion."
"You can't prove anything."
"I'm sure there are cameras here. How much are you willing to bet that there aren't?"
…there was no reply from the suddenly-sullen girl, whose expression hadn't changed.
"Run along, then," the boy continued. "Leave me alone, and I won't go to the administration about this."
How bold. However, will that prove to be wise in the long run?
The girl began walking past him, but paused for a moment:
"Don't think I'll forget this. I have a good memory and a long reach, and they won't be able to trace anything back to me."
Jessamine couldn't say for sure, but she had the distinct impression that the boy was smiling. It was an eager, terrifying grin, the kind seen on extreme sports enthusiasts at the prospect of a dangerous challenge to overcome.
"I'm counting on it."
The girl's eyes narrowed, and she resumed her path towards the women's residence halls. The man, still exuding that ominous feeling of anticipation, exhaled… Even though he's excited, he was still putting on a show?
Still, that guy does not shy away from conflict. Perhaps that's admirable, perhaps not.
The guy began walking towards the men's dorms, and though he never once indicated that he was aware of Jessamine's presence, she couldn't help but feel that she had been noticed.
There is something odd about him, but I can't tell what it is for the life of me.
Jessamine noticed a single raven perched on a signpost ahead of her.
It can't be the same one, can it?