The Magician's Nephew

"Mommy?"

…

"Daddy?"

…

He waited, but heard nothing.

His little heart was filled with an intense longing for which he had no words, and a pain which soaked his face in tears.

"I'm sorry, Mommy!" he cried. "Please come back! Come back, Mommy!"

The only sound in the room was the sound of Caspian's flood of tears.

He missed his mother dearly.

He missed her…

A deep, black hole of pain and sorrow swallowed him alive.

Even when his eyes had nothing to give, the tears didn't stop.

When someone finally found him, there was only one thing he could say.

"I want my mommy!"

Caspian Dawson awoke with a start about 45 minutes into the trip to Avalonne-du-Prix, home of the famed Royal Academy of Magick—but his destination was furthest from his mind.

It had been around twenty years since he accidentally killed his parents, and the memory of the event had kept him company the entire time, revealing itself in his dreams whenever he felt a sliver of happiness or self-satisfaction.

His uncle was the first one to find him and already guessed what had happened. He had taken Caspian in and never once had blamed the boy for his mother's death; during his teen years, Caspian had asked him about it, and his uncle replied:

"My son, we share the same pain and guilt. I know you already blame yourself, and you don't need me adding the weight of my accusations to your burden."

It was kindness, in his uncle's own peculiar way.

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, and which was enough to break Caspian out of his self-reflection.

The House of Blackstone.

It wasn't long before other students noticed the crest as well.

Let the gossip ensue…

"Isn't that the Blackstone crest?"

"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."

It's true, but that's not how she got in.

"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?"

"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 combined with their equally-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 free time this afternoon.

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 labyrinthine architecture of the city had clearly been preserved as much as possible, the "town square" was the sole 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 in between. It was perhaps half the size of a football pitch, and it seemed a popular meeting place for students and locals.

There were many people milling about in the square, the majority of whom were relaxing with picnic blankets 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?

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?

It's incredibly strong, it might even give me a run for my money.

Wait, I recognize this aura…

He found the target of his inquiry: a young woman with a medium-length blonde bob, clearly beautiful, about the same height and age as him but who appeared far more mature due to her stylish-yet-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 was in charge of defending the capital of the Maldives, that's why I recognize her.

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 MI7. Her daughter has no official role in the government, but is known to manage family affairs in her mother's absence, and has assisted MI7 on multiple occasions. Two younger sisters, Cheri and Cristiana. Father, deceased—the Incident. She's highly renowned in Britannian culture as one of our few Master-rank magicians.

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…

Caspian smiled, his face forming that one particular expression that always gave his uncle cause to worry.

…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. This was one of the benefits of his third eye: telepathy, the ability to communicate shade-to-shade with almost any creature.

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."