Steven Cairn yawned as he rose from his large, comfortable double bed and turned on the tv. Soon, te noise of a football match filled the bedroom and adjacent bathroom. He stepped into the shower, which was pleasingly hot. Thousands of spells and rituals at his fingertips, and yet, nothing woke him up like an early shower did.

After towelling himself off he walked back into the bedchamber, where his bed had already been made and three different suits were waiting for his inspection. Steven liked things in a particular way and his staff knew that. His eyes slid over the three brands, his favourites, before settling on the one that pleased him the most.

Once he was dressed, the black of the suit blending with the deep emerald green of his shirt and silver tie he felt suitably dressed for breakfast. He turned off the tv and stepped into the softly carpeted hallway. When he entered the dining hall, he saw a door close at the far end of the room. His brow set into a furrow as he looked at his watch. The furrow disappeared, he had simply been early, fifteen odd seconds or so.

He took the seat at the head of the table, where a cup of steaming, hot coffee, three different papers and a single cigarette were waiting for him. A small flame flickered into existence as he picked up the cigarette and lit it. He then turned his attention to the three papers. First, he checked the economic section of the regular paper. His stock had gone down again. No matter, he had other sources of revenue. He briefly glanced over the regular news, but found little of interest there. There had been a murder, which he was sure had been the result of magic, mostly because the choking hex had been cast by an amateur.

He picked up the second paper, which reported on international sports, and took a sip of coffee. By the time the cup was empty he had read anything of worth, so he turned to the last paper. This one was very different from the others, even though it looked like any normal paper. “Revelare.” He said. A single pure note echoed through the large dining hall. Instantly the paper changed from the regular news to something else entirely.

THE DAILY INQUIRER

The head of the paper read, and right below that:

APPRENTICES ON TRIAL FOR MURDER

Steven head little time for the four apprentices who had succeeded in killing their master. “Stupid.” He muttered. This was why he didn’t have an apprentice. Modern fiction had warped the perception of what magic was supposed to be. Apprentices these days thought they were somehow obliged to usurp their master’s position or fight against evil wizards or other nonsense like that.

COUNCIL RECONSIDERS COMMUNAL SCHOOLING

Schools for wizards, hah, if things were so easy, they would have taken over England centuries ago. No, magic was too complex and personal to be taught in class. His eyes scanned the other articles. Briefly his lips curled into a smile when he saw that the import tax on dragon scales had been abolished. Winterhand had come through then. He made a quick phone call to his contact in Bulgaria, who was delighted and promised to start shipping as soon as feasibly possible.

There was a knock on the door. Steven’s head swirled towards the door at the far end of the hall. “Enter.” He said quietly. The door was opened by a beautiful woman dressed in the livery of Cairn manner. “What is it?” He asked curtly. The servant drew in a shaky breath, she was clearly new and not used to being in his presence yet.

“A letter from your sister has arrived, sir.” She showed him the letter.

“My sister?” Steven asked. For a second, he seemed confused, then his face became a mask again.

“Bring it to me.” The servant’s hands were shaking as she handed him the letter. He instantly recognized his sister’s neat handwriting. Their governess had compared their handwriting frequently, his falling short most of the time. “Dismissed.” He said in almost dreamlike whisper. He didn’t even notice when the servant left, his attention focused completely on the letter.

Dear brother,

I know we haven’t spoken since I moved to the States, but this is a matter of urgency. My daughter, Serena seems to have inherited the talent of our father.

Steven’s eyebrows shot up. Three generations with the talent, that was quite a feat. Magic turned most men infertile and the talent wasn’t necessarily blood related. Even an old magical family like the Cairns had had generations without mages.

Unlike him, she doesn’t tinker with machines in the garage or spends most of her time composing, like you. No, she’s quite different. Of course, you will find out for yourself. By the time this letter reaches you she will already be on her way to you.

Hold up, what was that? He read and reread the line. “What does she mean she is already on her way to me?”

I hope that you will be able to teach her how to practice safely and responsibly. I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but I’m desperate.

My regards,

Your older sister.

The alarm went off. There was an intruder in the mansion. Calmly he folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. “If that is my niece, I will jinx you.” He said, looking at the letter pointedly. There was a polite knock at the door.

“Enter.” He said absentmindedly.

The door opened and tree members of staff appeared. Two of them were carrying pistols, their eyes scanning the dining hall. The third, a butler was carrying a cushion, which he brought to Steven. “Sir, I made a selection for you.”

Steven nodded appreciatively at the aging butler. “Thank you, mister Stone, a perfect selection as always. The intruder might be a relative of mine, no one is authorized to engage. Inform the staff.” The butler nodded.

“I will make sure no one lays a finger on them, sir.” He assured Steven.

He looked at the three pieces of wood the butler had picked. To the untrained eye they all looked identical, but that wasn’t the case at all. He made his choice and dismissed the personnel. He gave the wand a sweep and the first notes echoed through the dining hall. Low menacing tones gathered around him as he left the dining hall.

As he walked towards the glaring magical presence in the reception hall the shadows around him deepened and seemed to stick to him. The music became louder, sounding like approaching thunder. As the music swelled, so did his anger. Barely a note, delivered too late, his sister had lost her manners since she left. The magical presence in the reception hall increased. “Casting spells in my home without permission.” He hissed. More magic gathered towards him and the music became louder and more aggressive. His hands were a blur as he weaved protective spells around him, all sound lost in the music.

At last he reached the reception hall.