Master Professor. High Mage of the Order of the Sacrum Abies. Summus Magister. High Professor-at-Large of the Imperial University of Learning, the best institution of higher magical education in the Empire of Burgundy. That's Lucius Henry. A very irritated Lucius Konigsberg Henry.
Lucius looked at his visitor, his face the very image of a calm and collected professor. As a lecturer among arrogant and conceited magic practitioners, he had lots of practice in hiding his desire to blast to smithereens objects of his displeasure.
His plan of a quiet afternoon of poring over priceless and rare ancient tracts for his magnum opus, “Sources of High Magic – A Compleat Dissertation”, was now derailed by the presence of his officious guest.
Not that he had any choice in the matter. If and when the Imperial Bureau of Magical Investigations need the university’s help, only “yes”, “of course”, or the usual “what do you need” will suffice.
The reputation of the IBMI already terrified many an advanced magic user or researcher in the Empire. From the land of the Scots to balmy Italia, the Empire's wardens of magic range with dedication and secrecy. They were thaums more efficient, widely distributed, and infinitely loyal than the Emperor's own secret police, also known as the Imperial Commission on Standards and Measures.
With the absolute power to regulate the practice of magic, enforce its will and decisions, lovingly handled with a heavy iron hand in most instances, a visit from one of its investigators was enough to make an academician wet himself. Its mailed hand, as many realized, had very sharp spikes. But to the credit of its investigators, IBMI visits are always handled with discretion and a minimum of fuss.
Not that the affected distinguished lecturer, researcher or professor would know exactly what was wrong. But the nature of magical research being what it is, it could be possible that a new equation or a daring experiment may have contained an anomalous theorem or a forbidden thaumaturgical element. And in some instances, plain stupidity was the cause of the feared visit and IBMI agents never knock on the door.
Yet in many instances, the violator knew exactly what he was doing. The question though was how the Bureau learned about it. Nobody, at least outside its inner circles and the Emperor himself, knew the secret. Even the Great Tamzgha Empire, with powerful djinns controlled by its ruler, the Malik Maghreb, couldn’t uncover the secret.
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Lucius didn’t have a clue about it. But he knew that in very serious and exceptionally dangerous instances, it is the Imperatoria Manu Magica, the officially non-existent section of the Bureau, which resolves matters with an even more terrifying ebon and jagged armored hand. Usually in a quick, decisive and fatal manner.
Outside the realm of the academe and magical professionals, the Imperial police took care of the problems created by hedge magicians, unauthorized tinkerers, and those mages belonging to criminal elements. It was a nice dichotomy. It kept clear the distinction between the mere irritants, the dangerous, and the world enders or would be world rulers.
But the learned professor's visitor was not an ordinary IBMI man. He was of that secret section nobody talked about as it didn’t exist. As with his kind, he didn’t look Manu, much less Magica.
Lucius knew better. It was his business to know those small and dangerous sections, agencies, and commissions most didn't expect to be around in this enlightened day and age. But that widely rumored, virtually held as gospel truth, secret imperial commission investigating magical alien visits was pure rat droppings. He knew the task was given to the agency in charge of the Imperial zoos. Not even as a special task but as part of its routine work.
And now his visitor, a portly balding man in his late forties, was puffing away at one of Lucius' cigars. He really couldn’t blame him. The cigar box was inadvertently left at the visitor's table. Good thing the cognac was under lock and key. He knew he better get the meeting over quickly. Get the inquiry and then work on it as fast as he could.
He was highly confident about doing it quickly. Since the time he started being consulted by the agency that didn’t exist, they haven’t brought him a true conundrum worthy of his time.
“What mystery has the esteemed bureau brought me this time,” he politely asked the man who clearly had not properly dusted himself off. Lucius thought the man must really be in a hurry. He even forgot to remove his grey duster, to the detriment of the leather chair. At least he hung his tricorne hat where it should be placed.
The man produced a pen and a note pad. He started scribbling furiously on it. While talking to Lucius about a totally different subject.
“Hello, Professor! I am Stephen. Stephen Swarovski. We just would like to thank you about your help in translating the Odic documents!” the man said, enunciating each word carefully as if he was talking to a man with a hearing problem. While talking, he passed a note to Lucius.
What the Newton is wrong with this man? thought Lucius as he took the note.
He read the scribble. Such abominable handwriting, he thought. He turned the paper over and wrote his response.
Mages are dissolving? Or is it massage in dipping sauces?
He gave the note back. The man read it, furiously shook his head, and wrote again. This time in block letters. He returned it to Lucius. It now legibly spelt out the message.
Magic is disappearing.