Just moments earlier, Phineas Magus had departed, leaving behind the faint scent of old parchment and something akin to ozone. His words still resonated in Arthur’s mind, solidifying a truth Arthur had long resisted. “Ye’re more than just a lawyer, lad,” Magus had said, his soft Scottish accent belying the gravitas of his message. “Ye’re the Pendragon. A protector, not just of the law, but of the realm itself. Against all threats, mundane and arcane.” Arthur felt the echo of that statement, a profound shift within him. The internal struggle against his destiny, the reluctance to embrace his legendary lineage, had finally dissipated. He was Arthur Pendragon, and this was his responsibility. The Pendragon's Hidden Lineage thread, his internal arc, had resolved.
A sudden buzz from his mobile startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. It was Inspector Solo. Arthur answered, placing the phone on speaker as he leaned back in his chair.
“Morning, Arthur. Or what’s left of it, anyway,” Solo’s voice crackled, sounding weary but resolute. “Cleanup’s ongoing. Forensics are having a field day with the drone wreckage, trying to piece together a plausible cover story. Luckily, the public’s buying the ‘malfunction’ angle for now. No major panic, which is a win.”
“Good work, Paul,” Arthur replied, his voice still a little hoarse from the dust and exertion of the night. “Any sign of Oswald?”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “Negative. He vanished. Like smoke. His drone was heavily damaged, but it clearly had some kind of escape mechanism. Orsine’s got him tucked away somewhere, no doubt. But listen, Arthur, that’s not why I called.”
“Go on,” Arthur prompted, a sense of anticipation building.
“What I saw last night… the magic… it changes everything,” Solo continued, his tone serious. “I’ve been thinking, and talking with Magus a bit. We can’t keep pretending this stuff doesn’t exist. Not when it’s smashing up national landmarks. The police, we’re completely unprepared for it. We need a way to deal with it. To bridge the gap.”
Arthur nodded slowly, even though Solo couldn’t see him. “You’re talking about a dedicated unit?”
“Exactly,” Solo confirmed, a hint of excitement now in his voice. “A covert team. Specialists. People who understand what we’re up against. And… I think Magus would be invaluable. As a consultant. A mentor, even. He understands this world better than anyone. It’s time we integrated this knowledge, rather than ignore it.”
Arthur smiled faintly. Solo, witnessing the raw power of magic firsthand, was now actively proposing a way to integrate it into law enforcement. His subplot of integrating his knowledge and powers into his professional life, of bridging the gap between mundane law enforcement and the magical underworld, had found its resolution. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Paul. And I’m sure Magus would be keen to help.”
“Right, well, I’ll start drafting some proposals, try to get Chief Inspector Jeavons on board,” Solo said, a renewed sense of purpose evident. “It won’t be easy, but after last night, I think I’ve got a stronger case than ever. Keep your eyes open, Arthur. I’ve got a feeling this is just the beginning.”
“You too, Paul. And thanks for everything,” Arthur said, before ending the call. He leant back, a sense of satisfaction mingling with the lingering unease about Oswald. Solo’s initiative was a vital step, a pragmatic response to a world far more complex than most realised.
A few hours later, as the afternoon sun began to stream through his office window, Arthur switched on the small television perched in the corner of his office. A live press conference was underway. Giacomo Orsine stood at a podium, impeccably dressed, his calm, calculating demeanour radiating an almost unsettling sincerity. Lucy Black stood subtly at his side, her expression unreadable, an enigma in her own right.
“…a truly regrettable incident,” Orsine was saying, his voice smooth and resonant, “and on behalf of the Orsine Foundation, I wish to express our deepest sympathies to anyone affected by the unfortunate technological malfunction at the Tower of London last night.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “While our preliminary investigations indicate no direct involvement from any Orsine Foundation projects, we believe it is our moral obligation to assist. Therefore, we are establishing a substantial fund to support the recovery efforts and provide aid to those who experienced any disruption.”
Arthur watched, a bitter taste in his mouth. It was a masterful act of public deception. Orsine, the architect of the attack, now playing the benevolent philanthropist. He was a spider, weaving a web of influence and control, denying any corporate involvement while simultaneously solidifying his public image. The sheer audacity was breathtaking.
He knew Oswald was still out there, a weaponised ghost under Orsine’s control, a puppet dancing to a tune of vengeance and technological supremacy. The true battle, Arthur realised, was far from over. This was merely a temporary ceasefire in a clandestine war that blended ancient magic with cutting-edge technology. Orsine’s fear and mistrust of magic, his reliance on technology to combat an unseen, unrevealed adversary, was now chillingly clear.
His gaze drifted to the corner of his office, where Excalibur, no longer hidden, rested subtly against the side of his desk. Its hilt gleamed softly in the afternoon light, a constant companion, a silent promise. Magus’s guidance had prepared him for this. The wizard’s role in guiding Arthur, in honing his magical abilities and solidifying his understanding of his lineage, had been fully realised. Magus had prepared him for a lifelong commitment to his destiny, for the ongoing fight against unseen adversaries, concluding Magus’s primary mentorship arc.
Arthur looked out over the London skyline, the familiar panorama of modern architecture and historical landmarks stretching out before him. The city, his city, was recovering, slowly stitching itself back together. But beneath the surface, a new reality had taken root. His journey, he understood, had only just begun. He would continue his work as a Crown Prosecutor, meticulously navigating the mundane legal world, but now, he would also balance it with his magical responsibilities, forever vigilant against the shadows that lurked beneath. The unseen magical adversary Orsine feared was still out there, yet to be revealed, a looming threat waiting in the wings.
He picked up Excalibur, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in his hand. The blade hummed with a quiet power, a resonance with his own newfound resolve. He was ready.
“The fight continues,” he murmured to himself, the words a vow.
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