Much to their surprise, when the kidnappers finally shook Viviane out of the jute bag they had stuffed her into, they did not find a frightened girl at all, but rather a young woman who stared back at them with eyes so cold they scarcely seemed human. It was almost as if she regarded her own kidnapping as no more annoying than a fly crash-landing in her soup, and her kidnappers as though they were nothing more than ants, rather than men…
The ancient Fairy's cold eyes flicked left and right, taking in the opulent décor of her surroundings. Her kidnappers had taken her to what looked like a rich merchant's villa. Judging from the light streaming in through a square opening in the roof, they were in the atrium.
Armoured men guarded all the exits she could see.
"#$^&#$@!" barked a one-eyed man with a nasty scar running down his face.
The Fairy's eyes turned to the three men standing before her. The first to catch her attention was the strongly built man who had addressed her rather impolitely. She resolved to pluck out his remaining eye by the time she left this domus, for his rudeness. The second man, in the middle, a balding figure draped in a toga lying in an armchair before her, was likely his master. The third did not have the features of a Roman, unlike the two others; his hair was blond, likely making him a foreigner.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" the blond-haired man asked.
The Fairy blinked, and Viviane awoke, her consciousness bubbling back up to the forefront. As much as the ancient Fairy wanted to help her latest incarnation, she had no idea how to pilot a human meatsuit, making fighting out of the question.
'This is Mélusine,' said Ondine offered, shimmering into view next to the unfamiliar Shadow before Viviane's mind's eye. 'She says she has experienced human magic.'
"I understand," Viviane said, trying to ignore Ondine's nagging in her ear.
Viviane's eyes turned golden as she activated her Mystic Sight. There were no Wizards in sight before her, and though she could hear people shuffling behind her in the background, she did not dare turn around to take a look just yet.
The man in the toga said something.
"Master Theodoricus is impressed by your ability to change your eyes' colour, but he would like to know if his new servant knows any more magic tricks," the translator explained. "Training Wizards is rather expensive."
The man was speaking in broken Frankish, a language far from Viviane's native Breton, yet as a noble lady she had learned a few of the tongues spoken in the surrounding lands. She simply hadn't got around to learning Latin yet, that was all; her father was a practical man, and everyone knew the Roman Empire was done for, anyway.
"Ask him what gives him the audacity to think a Muggle like him can command a Witch such as myself," Viviane replied haughtily. "Tell him to let me go, or my husband will come looking for me."
The translator repeated the message, and the man in the toga snapped his fingers.
"Crucio," came a voice behind her.
A soundless scream tore from Viviane's lips as crimson lightning smote her. Never before had she experienced such agony, like a thousand white-hot knives stabbing through her body at once, and for a few seconds, she rolled around on the floor of the villa, raking her bloodied fingernails against the stone tiles… until at last, the pain ceased.
The taste of blood filled her mouth, and a buzzing noise droned constantly in her ears…
The man in the toga laughed and said something in Latin.
"Because of that," the translator said. "Master Theodoricus says you are not the only Witch in his employ."
Viviane's eyes flashed. That was a lie! She looked over her shoulder and saw a Witch in white robes, wand in hand. Noticing her gaze, the woman rummaged through her pockets and tossed a white stick onto the ground before her.
"According to the master's men, you were found loitering in front of Oleander's place," the translator repeated. "Rejoice, for you no longer have to wait in line. Pick up the wand and repeat the incantation and wand movements as the Witch demonstrates. Show us your skill, and if it is deemed satisfactory, you will be bound by a Geass to serve the master faithfully."
Hesitantly, Viviane picked up the wand and looked up at the Witch.
"Vermillious," said the Witch, giving her wand a casual wave.
Crimson sparks flew from the tip of her wand. Viviane recoiled in fright at the sight of the light, so similar in colour to the lightning that had caused her so much pain, and the Witch sniggered.
'Over nine thousand years ago, right before I died,' Mélusine's Shadow suddenly said, 'I witnessed a young Witch in possession of such an instrument. She waved it like so, and chanted, "Expelliarmus," knocking back and disarming her opponent.'
Viviane was fairly certain Merlin had told her wands had only been invented a few hundred years ago, but Mélusine couldn't be lying. She pushed herself to her feet, and…
"Expelliarmus!" Viviane shouted, pointing her wand at the surprised Witch.
Red light burst from the tip of her borrowed wand, striking the Witch's chest and hurling her off her feet. The Witch's body glowed red, and her wand sprang from her grip, spinning through the air. Viviane leapt up and caught it just as the Witch crashed into the guards behind her, sending them tumbling off their feet.
"@#$%&!"
Viviane swivelled and took aim at the one-eyed man and repeated the incantation, sending him flying into his master… but despite her initial success, she soon found herself surrounded by guards, held at spearpoint. These were ex-soldiers, former elites of the Roman army, a threat to any Wizard in close encounters!
That is, until their heads started flying; a second group of Muggles was storming the villa!
"It's the cohortes urbanae!" shouted the translator. "Run for it!"
In other words, the police had come to the rescue!
Viviane goggled as one of the policemen seemed to turn into a blur, his gladius flashing as he hacked, pommel-bashed, and weaved through Theodoricus's forces with ease, taking limbs and splitting spears and barely spending more than a fraction of a second on each retired soldier as he made his way towards her.
"Vivianeeee!" came Merlin's muffled voice through the sounds of fighting. "We're here to help!"
There was a flash of light, and every single one of Theodoricus's men went flying to the ceiling, helplessly held aloft by their ankles.
"Merlin!" Viviane cried in delight, as he crossed the atrium.
"Allow me to introduce you to the person we came here to meet," Merlin said, beckoning for the inhumanly fast swordsman to join him. "This handsome lad here is called Artorius, and for now, he is but a humble member of Rome's watchmen…"
Viviane's eyes widened in shock. The handsome boy, no more than sixteen, whom Merlin was now patting on the back… in his breast radiated a monstrous aura, akin to that of the Green Dragon dwelling in the mountains near her father's castle… despite being clearly a Muggle.
"What do you mean, for now?" Artorius asked, puzzled. "I can't quit this job, I'm saving up to buy a farm, for when I retire."
The only reason Artorius had agreed to help Merlin was that he somewhat remembered his face from his life before Rome, on that faraway island… though he found it odd that the boy had not seemed to age a single year in all that time.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, my boy," Merlin went on. "Your father, Uther Pendragon, has just died."
Artorius looked at him in shock.
"By the time you leave Rome, you will have ceased to be simply Artorius…" Merlin said gravely. "You will be Arturus Pendragon, Dux Bellorum of Rome on behalf of the emperor. Artorius, you are now the rightful High King of Logres and Britannia. Congratulations on your promotion."
"It's him?" Viviane murmured, stunned. "He's the saviour!?"
Naudhiz.
Viviane cringed as the buzzing in her ears intensified… something was wrong…! She wasn't Viviane, she was…!