There are many different paths by which you can know a city, Jessamine mused. As a child, it's a cluster of separate locations which you need an adult to navigate. As a teenager, you learn how those locations connect with each other. As an adult, the constraints of time, money, and effort force you to plan your day with more intentionality.
The same city looks different to all three.
And it looks even more different when you're giving a guided tour to the person you hate the most, and whom you're sure is a threat to the city itself.
The Royal Academy of Magic was housed mainly in the keep of the original castle, along with some of the outlying structures that were used for practical lessons. But in between the keep and the outermost wall, which was lined with ramparts and only perforated by gates in each cardinal direction, lay the academy town: a modest but densely-packed urban space containing all the necessities of a civilized life for the inhabitants of Avalonne-du-Prix. The streets were a narrow, winding web of townhouses, a relic of the castle's days as a coastal fort when the streets may be used as a deterrent against an invading force. Nowadays, though, signposts at regular intervals prevented the occupants from losing their bearings entirely, and the residents found that the layout of the city became intuitively understandable after a time. The signposts were really for the benefit of the students, whose comings and goings were too frequent to afford them much familiarity with the layout.
In the rough center stood the keep, of course, adorned in the livery of the House of Pendragon and of the Academy itself. There were two large courts within the city from which radiated many streets: the first was the site of the old market, which was paved over and became the home of a beautiful waterfall-fountain-statue of Uther II when he instituted the Academy, and the second was a larger space which retained its original function as a public park. The castle cistern was near the second, close enough to be integrated into the edge of the park itself, and was a favorite amongst recreationalists.
Situated around both courts were the students' dormitories, four in total; two male and two female, with the lowerclassmen relegated to Market Court and the upperclassmen enjoying the privilege of Park Court. But there were also students who did not reside in the dormitories, having instead taken up residence in the various society houses scattered throughout the island, but no lowerclassmen would have that opportunity until rush week at the earliest, Jessamine explained.
She didn't know what exactly she had been expecting, but Elisabeth Moriarty being an attentive listener was not on Jessamine's list of expectations.
She's being too attentive, Jessamine realized, which can only mean that she's putting on an act for my benefit.
Just before the tour was set to conclude at the Market Court, where registration was ongoing, Jessamine stopped and turned to Elisabeth.
"You already knew everything about the Academy, didn't you?"
"Why, of course," she replied, her catty smile returning with gusto. "The intelligence network of the Moriarty family is unparalleled. Even by your dear MI7, whom you seem so fond of even though I can't understand why for the life of me. When have they ever helped you?"
"They discovered that your family was behind Dover—"
"Yes, and who do you think gave them that information?" Elisabeth's tone indicated she was slightly insulted, as if any intelligence agency's actions were possible solely because of the providence of the Moriarty family. "Seriously, Ms. di Cadenza, how can you be so naive? We own this country, and many others, too."
Jessamine threw up her hands in frustration.
"So then why play games with me? What could you possibly want from the Academy? If you own the country, surely you could get your hands on the secrets stored here without all of this childish drama."
She doesn't like it when I call her childish.
"I want the Domino Witch," Elisabeth replied, bluntly, rudely. "And whether or not you're the one I'm looking for… you know who she is. You've never questioned whether or not I may be the Witch, after all."
She's right, thought Jessamine. I made a mistake. I was careless.
Aloud, she answered:
"I would've rather bled out and let the Union put a bullet in my brain than be saved by the Moriarty family."
"Oh, I'm sure."
"You won't get any help from me."
"Of that, I have no doubt."
"Though, I will tell you this," said Jessamine, a plan forming in her mind, "while I do not know who the Domino Witch is, I know one thing about her: she's more powerful than any living magician. I don't think she's even human; her aura, it was something totally unique and overwhelming."
Elisabeth narrowed her eyes. Jessamine could not tell whether or not her ploy of mixing half-truths had worked, but she felt she would have her answer soon enough.
"And you're telling me this—why?"
Jessamine smiled.
It worked.
"It will not change the outcome should you choose to pursue her, but it will affect how you go about doing so," she replied. "This Academy is under my protection, as much as I am able. You'll do less damage if you have a better idea of whom you're pursuing."
Elisabeth stood in quiet contemplation for a moment, and while she did so, Jessamine noticed an irregularity somewhere in the crowded Market Court. She scanned the incoming students; mostly the fresh-faced graduates of the ancient universities who were wealthy enough to afford a graduate-level education in magic, or who had earned their spot through networking and effort alone.
But, seeing as they were novice magicians, it was not likely that any of them were the source of the irregularity.
It was a strange aura, as best Jessamine could tell. A magician's "aura" was simply an unconscious communication of magical ability between magicians, and was the principle method by which strangers could discern another's magical rank. The ranks used by the common folk—novice, apprentice, adept, expert, and master—were assigned by the results of a magical aptitude test, but each rank carried with it a marked difference in a magician's aura.
There was a sixth rank, ultimate, which was reserved for the few transcendental magicians in the world. At their level of ability, there was no use in comparing them with each other, and even less use in comparing them with the common magicians.
Jessamine had met some of Britannia's ultimate magicians through MI7, and she could testify to the strength of their auras.
Domino, however… it was something else entirely.
She could not identify why a particular aura seemed irregular to her, but it was definitely the aura of a novice, which meant the irregularity could not be intentional.
A defect? Or a strange, positive mutation?
I guess we'll find out.
Surveying the crowd once more, she located the person whom she believed to be the source of the anomaly.
He was a young man with medium-dark brown hair who was leaning casually against the registration desk while talking with the registrar, a woman around Jessamine's age, who seemed to hold no reservations about interacting with her charismatic friend. A gentle touch of the man's arm, innocent yet full of promise, told Jessamine all she needed to know.
Then, as if directed by the sixth sense shared amongst all humanity that makes one aware of being observed, the man cast a quick glance over the sea of people before him—and somehow managed to lock eyes with Jessamine, who stood in the shadows of a townhouse on the far side of the court.
"See someone interesting?"
Jessamine turned with a start to find Elisabeth, who, though her words were directed at Jessamine, was clearly focused on the same young man as her. But when Jessamine looked back towards the court, the man was gone.
She noticed it too.
It confirms my suspicions that something was weird about his aura…
…but it also tells me that Elisabeth Moriarty has keen magical senses.
That's good to know.
"Just an oddity among the incoming class. Like yourself."
Elisabeth made a tch sound, followed promptly by:
"As if."
This is a good opportunity.
"Oddities are easily dealt with," said Jessamine, her tone conveying far more than her simple words allowed. "In that sense, the two of you are identical."
Elisabeth turned to face her guide, and the look on her face could only be described as one pure disgust and revulsion.
"I've made up my mind, Jessamine, my dear friend," she said, her words laced with ire, "and I'm going to make you beg for mercy before I kill you, and everyone around you, and everyone you've ever known and ever loved."
"Took you that long, huh?" Jessamine taunted. "You're welcome to try. But, friend, don't forget—I'll be watching every move you make for as long as you're here. When you make a mistake, and believe me, you will make a mistake, I'll be there. And I will deliver upon my promise of friendship to you."
Both women understood: the time of elaborate, graphic threats had passed. Now was the time of barely-restrained fury.
"Tour's over," Elisabeth replied, moving towards the court but pausing just a few feet away. "This means war, Jessamine di Cadenza. I hope you're ready. Oh, and by the way…"
She glanced once more at her enemy and did not bother to hide her feelings.
"…you're something of an oddity yourself, you know."
With that, the Moriarty heiress continued on her way, and Jessamine finally allowed herself to exhale.
Perhaps provoking a Moriarty wasn't the best thing to do, she thought on her walk back to the house owned by the Royal Society, but a confrontation was unavoidable, and starting out from a position of strength can't hurt.
But what did she mean? In what way am I an oddity?
Oh, well, that much is obvious. But am I similar to that man in any way?
I guess time will tell.
The Society's house was an elaborate Gothic mansion perched atop a cliff outcropping along the northernmost edge of Avalonne-du-Prix. It was of relatively-never construction than the Academy itself, and had reportedly been used by the mysterious Lord Ravensleigh as an experimental laboratory, though such claims had not yet been substantiated.
It had been used as an educational facility for the first few years of the Academy's operation, until the point when societies began cropping up among the ancient colleges and became a fixture of campus cultures across Britannia; the Royal Society was thus birthed and had been in possession of Spear's Tip Manor ever since.
Still, despite the obvious threat poised by the Moriarty family, Jessamine was nevertheless enthralled by the possibility of soon fulfilling her decades-long dream of vengeance.
She's going to be targeting me with fervent animosity for the foreseeable future, and I'll have to be on my guard.
Taking her out legally would be preferable, but if push comes to shove, I am more than capable of completing this mission on my own.
Thank you, Domino, she thought, a dark smile forming on her lips. Soon will the winter of my discontent be made glorious summer by this witch of Dover.
And then—when all is right with the world—I can remove myself from the picture.
But those plans were for the future; as she approached Spear's Tip Manor, Jessamine saw that a window was open on the second floor of one of the wings, and immediately the forecast of her day brightened.
Finally… some fun.
With a thought, she used a Farsight spell to look within the Manor. None of the valuables of antiquity were misplaced, and thus she safely concluded that the infiltrator was after something of a more informational nature.
She located the perpetrator: a young man, dressed as a student, who probably arrived on this morning's ferry. He bore no obvious signs of allegiance, though his face bore a slight Frankish resemblance, and his build was lithe and nimble.
The Union, looks like.
He was rummaging through a file cabinet which played host to the Society's files on notable magic incidents, and it looked like he was particularly focused on the Battle of Dover.
Another one, she sighed. How original.
It had been four years, and she had yet to escape those who sought the Domino Witch. She had initially been concerned that some faction possessed concrete proof of her identity; but reason suggested that the true cause was that she was the only reliable eyewitness of the Witch and thus was still a person of interest. As annoying as they were, the persistence of the investigation had one pleasant consequence.
She was in possession of a reliable source of excitement.
Another thought brought Jessamine into the room with the young man, though he, being consumed in his work, did not notice her approach.
Jessamine took a brief moment to analyze the situation from a magical perspective; she could tell that he was in communication with another party via radio, so he wasn't working alone. This did not limit her ability to act, though it did impose constraints… but constraints provided an opportunity to flex her problem-solving abilities.
In previous situations, she had used magic to secret a portion of the material world away from prying eyes by directing the flow of energy around the target location—nothing could enter or exit without her knowledge and permission.
But the perpetrator's handlers would be notified if their communication was suddenly interrupted, so this situation required finesse.
Jessamine grinned with anticipation.
She wove the barrier as she usually did, but at the same time, she created a duplicate radio signal by repeating the one that already existed. As the barrier closed around the pair, the authentic signal was cut, but the duplicate remained.
They were now truly alone.
"Can I help you?" she asked, drawing the man's attention suddenly and causing him to jump with fright. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
It was a boldfaced lie, but it helped keep the situation calm.
"O-oh! It's—it's okay—I didn't hear you come in. I'm just…"
Having recovered his wits somewhat, he was able to examine the woman before him with a clear-enough mind, and he recognized her from his mission briefing.
"Apologies, Ms. di Cadenza," he began. "I was told not to lie to you, for my own sake. I'm looking for information."
"Your superiors at the New Roman Union are surprisingly considerate," she chuckled, advancing towards him like a large cat in a jungle. "Thank you for your honesty. Maybe I can help you find what you're looking for?"
"Oh—uh—sure."
He stepped back from the file cabinet, and Jessamine moved a little closer, pretending to inspect the labels.
"The Battle of Dover—I assume you're looking for information on the Domino Witch?"
"Y-yes…"
"Ah, well, you're lucky I dropped by."
"Right…" he agreed, calmly, warily. "I'm not looking for anything in particular, simply… anything the Society might have on her identity. We need to confirm our suspicion."
"Oh? And whom do you suspect?"
"That's—beyond my paygrade, I'm afraid."
Jessamine laughed.
"Well, I may be able to provide some insight in that regard."
He had to look twice at her in order to confirm what he was seeing as Jessamine dispelled her glamour. Her carbon-grey skin, free from external covering yet bearing no identifiable sexual characteristics beyond shape alone, glowed with the power of subdermal magic runes that pulsed and shifted in strange patterns. Her eyes appeared human, yet bore the telltale signs of artificial—nay, magical—construction, and made him feel exposed and vulnerable before her as if he was the one naked. Her hair, if it could be called that, glowed with the same hue of magic that beat throughout her body and seemed to have a will of its own.
But beyond the physical changes, it was the change in her aura which terrified him the most; he hadn't noticed any aura when she appeared, but now, her aura nearly overpowered his brain to the point of losing consciousness.
"You—you're the Domino Witch," he whispered in awe as his sight dimmed.
He already knew what this revelation implied.
"Yes," she whispered, but he heard the word as clearly as if she had spoken directly into his mind.
"Why? What threat did I pose to you?"
"None whatsoever," she replied, and he saw the most terrifying smile grace the thing which represented her face. "But, like a doll, you look like such fun to play with."
With his last conscious moments, he saw her prowling towards him, every step measured and patient.
"…and I usually break all of my dolls," he heard, though by this time his mind was too addled to comprehend her meaning.
Sometimes, Jessamine wondered just how inhuman she had become, but those thoughts never troubled her nor raised any doubts about her current existence.