"Alright, everybody, listen up. I'm going to brief you on the situation before assigning your roles in the upcoming operation."
A lecture hall had been temporarily commandeered by the Societie Royale, who, along with every combat-focused Research Group, were now giving their undivided attention to Jessamine di Cadenza.
Jessamine clicked a button in her hand, advancing the slide on the projected screen behind her to an image of an overturned car in a rubble-strewn London street.
"Approximately two hours ago, a group claiming to be 'freedom fighters' from one of our African territories launched a coordinated attack on the centers of influence in London, including the King's motorcade, Buckingham Palace, the Prime Minister's residence, Scotland Yard, Heathrow, and multiple sites along the Thames. The rebels are using urban guerilla warfare tactics and have proven difficult to eliminate, and it appears the battle for London may take several days. Military forces are arriving as we speak and are expected to turn the tide in our favor."
"What of the King?" someone asked.
"The King and his staff survived the attack and have been safely exfiltrated," Jessamine replied. "I don't have any other information on him, but I know he's okay and is most likely on his way to a secure facility."
A murmur went out among the crowd, most students expressing some form of "That's a relief" upon hearing their King was safe.
"Now, then," she continued, "I've called this meeting because, as of thirty minutes ago, the Royal Academy of Magick has been ordered by His Majesty's government to declare a state of emergency and enter into a martial lockdown. As most of you are aware, Campus Security frequently consults with the Societie Royale on such matters, and due to the circumstances and nature of this request we've decided to deputize the Research Groups to act on our behalf."
At this proclamation, the gathered students erupted into a flurry of questions.
"Are we under attack?!"
"What do you mean by 'state of emergency'?!"
"What are we supposed to do?!"
"Is this related to the Duke's death?"
"Is the school safe?"
Among the myriad of speakers, noticeably absent were questions from the Executive Board of the Societie Royale.
Many of them had yet to overcome the trauma from their last meeting and remained silent.
"Everyone, please, settle down!" Jessamine said calmly. "I understand you have a lot of questions, but right now, we don't have time to answer every single one. What you need to know is this: each Research Group will be stationed at a key point around the island and will be responsible for defending that point. For the moment, this is a precautionary measure only, but you should treat this assignment as if you were active-duty military. Ms. Masterson, our new Vice Chairwoman, will be distributing your particular assignments, so please see her after this. That will be all."
After most of the Research Groups had departed, each having received their assignment from Hope and the Societie, Jessamine was approached by Research Group Theta: Caspian's cohort.
"Ah, Caspian, thank you for being here," she said, drawing a few interested glances at her use of Caspian's first name. "We have a special assignment for your group."
"I was wondering why Hope here said to come see you afterwards," he said. "What kind of assignment do you have for us?"
"One of utmost importance," she replied. "Your group is to secure the airstrip to the best of your ability and ensure there is a corridor of safe passage between the airstrip and the Academy town. Our Societie will be responsible for safe transport within the Town and the Keep itself."
"What or who are we transporting?"
"I can't say anymore."
"I understand."
"One more thing, Caz…" she said, narrowing her eyes as she focused on the silver-haired girl behind him. "Can I speak to you in private?"
Caspian nodded, and the pair isolated themselves in a corner of the room.
"Who's the new girl?"
"That is Ms. Natasha Angeloff, a psychic who has recently joined the group."
"Do you trust her?"
"I don't trust anyone, but I'm confidant in my ability to keep her in check should she prove troublesome."
Jessamine's eyes wandered over the room as her mind rifled through possibilities.
"Very well, then, I'll trust you to handle it. And, Caz…"
"Yes?"
"I know something's about to go down, and I have a feeling that if we mess up, things will never be the same. This isn't quite part of our deal, but, please, help me sort all of this out."
"Don't worry, Jess. I have a plan."
***
An explosion on the other side of the police car rattled Arthur's nerves. His potential assassins were trying to force him out from behind his cover, trying to make him even more vulnerable than he already was—not good.
He looked at the overturned semi truck before him: while it was blocking vehicle travel, there were definitely enough gaps for a human to squeeze through, making it a potential escape route.
I can't leave Morgan behind, though.
Arthur glanced over at his fallen cousin and jumped in shock—she wasn't there!
He flattened himself against the ground in an attempt to look underneath the police cruiser; sure enough, Morgan's levitating body was moving towards the assassins.
I need to fight back.
I could've used an orbital strike with Excalibur to take care of them, but now Morgan's in the way—if only I hadn't hesitated!
Right now, I need an advantage.
He looked back towards the semi truck, took a deep breath, and began chanting under his breath:
"Surge, lutum, et fac imaginem tuam imaginem meam, sicut Deus olim fecit hominem!"
A doppleganger formed by his side, crouching and ready to sprint.
Arthur spared one last moment to gather his courage, then sent the carbon copy on its way.
He had planned a route for his earthen brother to follow: dash towards Morgan's car, make his way towards the trunk while staying under cover, attempt to grab a weapon…. Arthur figured the clone would have been destroyed by that point, but it would have served its purpose.
The doppleganger executed this plan flawlessly: such was its only purpose. It didn't know fear, but it pretended to be afraid. It had no courage, yet it gave the appearance of naive bravery.
After all, this was what the assassins were surely expecting from Arthur.
In the darkness of the early morning, the assassins saw the young man bolt from his cover in the direction of his car, which they took as a sign that their intelligence was correct—he didn't have equipment on his person, and he was trying to even the odds.
They trailed gunfire after him, but by the time they had a lock on his position, he was behind cover once again.
The leader of the assassins, a man dressed in black combat fatigues carrying a magically-accelerated rifle, made a circular gesture with his hand. One of his men detached himself from the leader's left flank and silently moved towards Morgan's car, not lowering his rifle for even a second.
The two assassins who remained by their leader's side continued pelting Morgan's car with magic rounds, providing cover for their accomplice's footsteps and keeping their target's attention focused on them.
It was an elementary pincer attack.
As the operator came around Morgan's car, he rested his crosshairs squarely in the center of the target's head and squeezed the trigger.
A rapid-fire volley of three magically-accelerated rounds turned the man's head into a puff of reddish dust as the suppressive fire from his comrades ceased.
"Confirm?" the leader asked, his voice low and quiet in the night.
The shooter carefully walked over to the body, prodding it with his foot while keeping the torso in his crosshairs.
To his shock, the body crumbled into pieces the moment his foot made contact.
"Duplicate!" he cried, snapping his rifle back to the patrol car where the boy had previously taken cover.
But Arthur wasn't there. While the assassins were distracted with his carbon copy, he had snuck underneath the capsized trailer and was now facing an open expanse of highway. He heard the gunfire cease, and knew that he had little time before the men came looking for him.
They still had Morgan, but he couldn't do anything about that right now.
Right now… there was only one thing he could do.
"Other side, other side!" shouted the assassin.
"You two, form up on Delta," the leader responded, speaking into a microphone on his throat. "Pursue and eliminate. Eagle, maintain your position. I'll stay here with Macbeth in case she wakes up."
Silent and swift as a bird of prey, the team executed their leader's orders. The fireteam of three moved towards the semi truck and deftly navigated around it.
It was difficult to make out the details in the darkness, but they were able to clearly perceive the general shape of a man almost a hundred meters down the road. Before they could train their rifles on his retreating form, he vanished around a curve in the mountain road.
"He's running," one of them said into his throat mic. "No clear shot."
"Roger, standby Eagle, check your target," came the reply.
"Target sighted, approximately one-five-zero meters away and counting," said a third voice.
"Permission to engage."
There was silence for a second before a muzzle flash illuminated a helicopter some distance ahead of the group; the magically-accelerated round was clearly visible against the dark backdrop of nighttime, and it travelled almost instantaneously in a straight line towards the target.
Silence preceded the shot, and silence followed it as well.
"Kill confirmed," said the voice over the radio.
"Delta, take your fireteam and get eyes-on," said the leader. "Keep your guard up, this guy likes his duplicates. He could still be hiding somewhere."
"Roger."
The team entered a protected-advance formation, with the operative Delta as their point man and his two accomplices watching his flanks. As one, they advanced up the road to the point where the target had fallen.
They reached the spot and saw the remains of Arthur Trevena.
Once more, Delta prodded the body.
Once more, the body crumbled into dirt.
"It's another duplicate!" he cried into his throat mic as he and his fireteam assumed a defensive position, expecting to be attacked any second.
At that moment, a violent explosion tore through Eagle's helicopter.
***
"Everything okay, Jess?" asked Caspian, seeing the blonde approach the airstrip. The Academy had been eerily quiet ever since the Research Groups dispersed to their various assignments—lunchtime had come and gone without any excitement whatsoever.
Yet Caspian felt a strange sense of dread, uneasiness, or fear spreading across Avalonne-du-Prix, which could only mean one thing: trouble was brewing.
He had seen Jessamine from far off as she exited the south gate of the Academy town, correctly assuming that the airstrip was her destination.
Then, the reason she assigned us here, and the reason for her visit… the King is coming here.
"Everything's fine," Jessamine replied, drawing close to Caspian and surveying the airstrip. "You should know what's going on, shouldn't you? Or does MI5 not plan on using you in this operation?"
Caspian looked at Jessamine with apprehension.
"I don't know what you mean," he said warily.
"Vivianne Loche interrupted a secret meeting with my mother to tell me to leave you alone. In hindsight, I can only assume that MI5 plucked a talented magician from among the country's special forces."
Caspian didn't reply.
"They probably want your cover to remain intact," Jessamine continued. "Or maybe they already know about our… relationship, and have deduced that I know who you are."
The irony… thought Caspian.
Jessamine was silent as she pondered the information pouring through her brain.
"Do you know why I assigned you to the airstrip?"
"I have an educated guess."
Jessamine nodded.
"He should be arriving any minute now."
Indeed, Caspian had already noticed the craft in the distance. It was no normal helicopter or private jet; the royal transport approaching them was a top-secret, state-of-the-art magic-powered airship which was nearly undetectable to common observers.
As it drew closer, he found it easier to perceive the elliptical silver-chrome shape, and his third eye could see the intricacies of the stealth magicks employed by the craft: light distortion, sound dampening, holoprojection, speed enhancers… no expense was spared.
The members of Research Group Theta, with the addition of Jessamine, were the only people present for the airship's descent. Caspian motioned for them to stay at their posts, focusing on any potential threats, and they followed his lead.
Jessamine approached the futuristic transport as a hidden panel in the side folded inward, allowing stairsteps to emerge from within and provide an exit.
"Your Majesty," said Jessamine with a courteous bow. "Welcome to the Royal Academy of Magick."
King Uther Pendragon emerged with an aide by his side—Ashley Westmarche, Jessamine recalled—and surrounded all sides by intimidating black-clad security forces.
"Thank you, Ms. di Cadenza," said the King. "Is the way prepared?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. "The Societie Royale has secured the Academy Town, and our most competent research group is defending this airstrip as we speak."
"Has there been any movement from the group which assassinated Duke Cahill?"
"None that we can discern thus far, Your Majesty. As far as we can tell, the secrecy of your visit has been preserved."
"We can only hope. Thank you for your service, Ms. di Cadenza. We shan't dawdle; these men can take it from here."
"Thank you, sir."
As the group began moving towards the town, Jessamine turned to one of the bodyguards—
"Are you with Echo company, then?"
The man hesitated.
"Our unit has no designation, ma'am."
Jessamine nodded her understanding, and the group departed.
That's odd, she thought.
She looked towards Caspian, and noticed that he seemed to be on-edge; this was the first time she had seen him express any emotional state besides laid-back contentment.
It makes sense, she thought, due to the gravity of the situation.
"The Academy Vault has been selected as the King's refuge," Duchess Annalise had said on their call that morning. "Echo company will deliver him to the Vault and assist the Societie's defense of the town."
"But the Academy has been compromised!"
"I expressed the same objection, but Lt. Loche said there were factors in play which make the Academy the safest location for the King at this time."
"…Caspian Dawson?"
"She didn't specify. This is a secret of the highest level; no one must know the King's destination. Take every precaution."
"I will, mother."
"I'm not your mother right now. I'm the Director of MI7."
"Yes, ma'am."
But the guards weren't Echo company.
A flash of realization swept over Jessamine, and she frantically spun around to look towards the town—the group was nowhere in sight. They were likely at the vault by this point, meaning their plan was almost complete.
"What's wrong, Jess?" asked Caspian, sensing her distress.
"Those weren't bodyguards," she said. "Those men are holding the King hostage."