Prologue| Penelope Prism and The Charming Chalice
The reflection in the glass was ethereal and ghost-like. It looked down on the twinkling world below invisible to the nine million denizens of the busy city, willing any one of them to look up and see the lurching spire of old stone and even older magic that was Belvedere Castle.
It towered over the city skyline from its hilltop in Central Park, a relic from the old world; hidden from the new. This was not the Belvedere Castle known to the early morning joggers who trekked through Sheep’s Meadow after sunrise. Nor was it the Belvedere Castle sought out by tourists for that picture perfect view of snow-covered fields in winter or the simple shady spot where the children of the Upper West Side played hide and seek during the summer. That Belvedere Castle was a shack.
This was the real Belvedere Castle; home to the Belvedere Court of New York City and the Secret College of Wizardly Scholarship. It was visible only to those who knew where to look and accessible to even fewer still. For centuries it has stood in the twilight of the realms, between fairy and man, shadow and light, waking and dreams; where the seven noble families of the old ways hold court and the Laws of Magic are upheld.
Far below its tallest towers, the city that never sleeps shines on like a glittering sheet of paper held captive by its own anxiety. A young man’s likeness watches the electric world of Manhattan with envy as the ebb and flow of light and color swirls on like thousands of dancing fairies in a moonless sky. The shadows of Belvedere Castle are more like a prison to him now than when he had first arrived at the start of the school’s semester all those weeks ago. In protest, Preston Pennyworth hawked a loogie over the ledge of an open window, just to watch it fall like snot-filled rain on the earth below.
“You’re disgusting,” stated Penelope Prism, from where she sat watching her fellow classmate in her compact mirror as she adjusted the butterfly clip in her short cropped hair.
“I’m bored,” Preston retorted, gingerly running his fingers through his own mess of blonde locks.
“Well,” said Penelope, snapping her compact shut “need I remind you that it’s your fault we’re all in here this evening, if you hadn’t—“
“—What?” interrupted Peter Pile, raising his head from a book he’d been mulling over, “Saved the school from the evil schemes of Professors Crook Nose, Horse Face, and Wart Hands, by cleverly cheating on their cursed exams only to expose their diabolical plot against The Court.”
“No,” replied Penelope sharply, unaware of the new presence entering the office behind her. “If you hadn’t been such an ass at the ceremony today we’d be receiving Hero’s honors right now, instead of extra spell work.”
“Oh will you give it up already, we’re not going to be Heroes, okay. There’s always …” Peter let his voice trail off at the sight of the tall slender old man entering through the chamber door behind Penelope.
“On the contrary,” said Dean Archibald Elderberry, revealing himself to the others with the piping voice the trio of students had come know well over their semesters of study. “…Each of you has earned the title of 'Hero' after what you’ve endured this week,” he stated with a warmed earn by countless lessons taught over the years.
He was an older man, and like the castle itself he was adorned with the trappings straight out the old stories. In addition to the suit and tie he wore every day as an educator.
“Dean Elderberry!” cried Penelope in surprise. “I didn’t…”
“Nonsense!” said the Dean. “You meant exactly what you said, and every word of it was right.”
“Really?” asked a puzzled Preston coming over from his place at the window.
“Oh yes, all three of you are an honor to the school,” answered the professor.
“That’s nice of you to say, sir,” said Peter, stepping forward toward Penelope.
“It was not easy for you to do what you did, and for that I wanted to thank you personally, and I also wanted to apologize as I will to all students enrolled at the school this year. My own shortcomings put each of you in danger.”
“Ah, come on, Professor don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Preston.
“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”
“So why did you give us detention?” asked Penelope.
The old wizard smiled at her question, then turned to his desk, where an iron paperweight fashioned in the shape of an eagle perched over a small mountain of paperwork. “Because I wanted to reinforce one of the guiding principles of magic, my dear...” said Elderberry, turning the eagle statue counter-clockwise to reveal a hidden lift disguised within the large circular Carpet at the center of the room. “…Nothing is ever what it seems,” said the Wizard, stepping onto the circle before motioning for the students to do the same, “… and The Hall of Heroes is only ever open after hours,” he added with a smile.
Each of the three students gazed wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the revelation before them.
“You mean, we’re…” said Peter stumbling over his words as he eagerly stepped on to the dais alongside Penelope and Preston.
“You’re all cordially invited to join the ranks of the Secret College’s most fraternal, and mind you, secret, society… now shall we make our way downstairs?”
As the carpet wove its way around the corridors of Belvedere Castle, the four caught glimpses of the grand magnificence it held within. In the blink of an eye they passed the Throne Room, and Castle Art Gallery, then its foyer and kitchen. The deeper they traveled, the more earthly the world became down among the foundations of the castle. Roots intertwined with stone among a backdrop of soil and dirt. Then a faint light appeared below their feet, growing into a warm glow that quickly began to consume them.
“And, here we are,” said Elderberry, as the carpet slowed to a halt in the center of the castle’s legendary wine cellar and its many rows of Mana-infused wines.
All three of the students were speechless at the vast quantity of magical beverages in front of them. Finally it was Preston who spoke.
“You mean to tell me this has been here all semester?” he asked in disbelief “You mean we could have been getting wrecked this entire time?”
Dean Elderberry was not amused by the young wizard’s observation. He was quick to throw an arm in front of both boys as they eagerly stepped forward from the carpet.
“I had taken you for students of the Secret College,” The old wizard scowled. “Not up-jumped Gutter Mages looking for a quick fix.”
Only Penelope winced at the Dean’s words. Naturally, she detested the term Gutter Mage. Having not come from one of the seven magical districts in Manhattan there where some among her Peers who thought of her as little more than just that; a mage from the gutters pinning at whatever magical substance fell her way. For the true power of the Belvedere Court lived in the Secret Spells of its houses, and when one of these spells was revealed, it became referred to as Gutter Magic, as unimpressive as a parlor trick or minor illusion. Thus, those who practiced it were called Gutter Mages, and were not favorable in the eyes of so many. Penelope had learned that lesson early in her academic career.
“Sorry Professor,” said Peter “There’s just so much wine...” he said taking in the rows upon rows sprawled out in front of their group once more “…So much….”
“Power?” finished Dean Elderberry as he led the three of them onward and deeper into the cellar, “So much magic perhaps? So much of the very thing that separates us from the mundane world outside, where time and again they have proven themselves incapable of handling such spectacular responsibility?”
“Ummm, yeah,” said Preston “I just never would have though such an impressive collection would be kept right under the school.”
“Of course not,” said The Professor stopping in front one of the dusty shelves “Have you forgotten the first law of magic?”
“No sir!” replied Peter shifting his tone as recited the first law “Mana gives us powers untold, but with that comes responsibility ten-fold.”
“Oh very good,” mocked The Dean “Someone was paying attention in nursery school,” he added cheaply “Now where did you think the expression Drunk with Power came from?”
“Manard McCool, sir,” answered Penelope Prism “One of the first Druids, who upon the discovery of Mana, and the magical properties it bestowed upon those who consumed it, was reported to have soon become ‘Drunk with Power’,”
“Very good Miss Prism,” replied Dean Elderberry as he carefully selected a bottle from the rack in front of him. “Ah here we are, this should do us quite nicely.”
He handed it to Preston for the three of them to take in the label. In a fine Antiqua font it read: Pinot Noir, 1973, The Oyster Shell Winery, Wellington New Zealand.
“Now, who can tell the significance of this bottle?” asked The Dean smiling.
“It’s from New Zealand,” answered Peter “The place has more natural Mana wells per capita, then anywhere else on earth, I bet it’s brimming with magic.”
“The Oyster Shell Winery was bought out by The Belvidere Company in 1941, it gave them a foothold in the region, they would later use to establish this very university,” said Preston giving his best educated guess.
“Astute observations,” replied Dean Elderberry “But what does the history of the Oyster Shell Winery, tell us about the second law of magic?”
“Secrets keep our world hidden, to speak them out loud is expressly forbidden,” this time it was Preston who replied looking up from the bottle in the dim light of the cellar.
“Ah I was unaware you and Mr. Pile had the same Nanny,” said Elderberry swatting away the boys outstretched arm as it moved toward the shelf. “It is good to know the future of our order is safe so long as you two are around to keep our secrets intact.”
“It’s about more than keeping secrets,” quipped Penelope “It’s about keeping quiet about the spells you’re taught, at school… or at home.”
“Ah,” replied The Dean with a long sigh of relief “There may be some hope yet, when the second great Gutter Mage rebellion finds itself at our doorstep.”
“Yeah depending on whose house she sides with,” said Peter in a hushed voice to Preston as Dead Elderberry moved the group forward once more.
“If any houses will take her, you mean,” responded the other boy just loud enough for Penelope to hear.
Their remarks were nothing new to Penelope. When she had first discovered the world of magic and the Belvedere Court, she set herself apart from the Gutter Mage Guilds by seeking an education at the Secret College, the pinnacle of magical education founded by the first American wizards and housed in Belvedere Castle itself. For a year, she had excelled in every subject she applied herself to, working harder and smarter than her often-entitled classmates did in an attempt to earn her place among them.
Now as she looked about the cellar, once again finding herself amidst a mass of wealth in the world she so haphazardly fell into, she couldn’t help but let her gaze wonder along the walls of the underground room and the portraits of bygone heroes that hung in spaces between each wine rack. Some were known amongst even the most innocent of the Mundane thanks to popular stories and songs, while others were celebrated only within the magical world.
She spied Jack The Welshman, first of his name, also known as The Giant Slayer after having both climbed a mythical beanstalk to the once grand kingdom in the clouds and playing an important role in the battle that followed. A more recent addition, The Boy Who Played With Shadows, hung just above her. His famous scar-faced glare looked down upon the room from where he sat upon the lost throne of a thousand blades.
“Ah perhaps this is more fitting for the occasion,” announced Dead Elderberry as he retrieved a seemly ordinary bottle of champagne from another of the racks.
This time he let Peter hold on to it, and when Penelope glanced over her classmate’s shoulder she found the label easy to read for the little glowing lights that fell like shooting stars behind the glass. Yet it was written in a language she had never seen before.
“Is this elfish? Or Fairy brewed?” asked Peter “I didn’t think they needed Mana to do magic.”
“They don’t,” replied Dead Elderberry.
“It’s dwarfish then,” noted Preston “But it must be ancient? Fae-folk haven’t wanted to have anything to do with us since The Vampire Wars,”
Penelope returned her attention to the murals along the wall. Next to the portrait of The Boy Who Played With Shadows hung a rather regal painting of a badger with a crown upon his hand, he was watching them from where he stood smiling. Though she couldn’t name it, there was something about his human-like behavior that unnerved her.
“The label reads Mead,” The Dean explained “Sparking, bottled in the year of long frost-bite, at the vineyard at Summer’s Edge in The Gleaming Court of Queen Tatiana, Mother of all fairies,”
All three of the students stood transfixed by the unnatural coolness of the bottle, and the sparkling lights the swirled from within it.
“Why don’t you go ahead and open it,” urged The Dean.
“Really?” asked Peter as he reached into his coat pocket to produce a silver wand.
“Oh yes,” said Dead Elderberry “I doubt you’ll taste its like again.”
It was only then that Penelope noticed The Badger King’s grin grow wide as Peter went through the practiced motions of opening the bottle with magic. She opened her mouth to warn him, but the sound of her voice was swallowed by an explosion of blue flame, erupting from the bottle with enough force to knock all three of them to the floor.
Elderberry laughed a deep hearty laugh, as the three of them regained their footing. His voice was joined by others looking down on the foolish victims of the cruel prank, from where they hung in their paintings overhead.
“Who can tell me The Third Law?” asked the Dean as the students steadied themselves in front of him.
“Respect the fae and all their gifts, but be mindful of The Gleaming Courts tricks.”
“That last part is actually just an addition.” Said The Dean “But the Respect The Fae part is correct, remember Mana, flows to our world by their will alone.”
“You know I never understood that,” said Penelope in much better shape than either of the boys “If they don’t like us, how come they still give us Mana to drink?”
“That my dear,” replied the Dean “is the mystery of the age,” He added making sure both the boys were alright before grabbing another glowing bottle from the shelf and handing it back to Peter. “Now come along, we’ve one more stop to make.”
The four walked for a long time making their way deeper into the cellar. Even the lights seemed to fade until only the dim twinkles of other enchanted elixirs remained to show them the way. Finally Dean Elderberry brought them to a dark corner of the cellar, to a wall lined with bottles of dark glass.
The old wizard took his time then. He had his own wand out, with its tip illuminating the way for his aged eyes to see in the darkness. After another moment he very carefully took one of the bottles from its place on the rack and handed it to Penelope. There was no label, nor any markings of any kind.
“I’m not opening this one,” said Penelope sharply.
“And I wouldn’t ask you to,” The Dean spoke softly “Now the Fourth Law of Magic, who can tell me what it is?”
“In it harm none, do what you will, save The Forbidden Arts and magic most ill,” said Penelope.
“And The Forbidden Arts, what are they?” asked Dean Elderberry.
“Shadow Alchemy,” answered Preston holding his own bottle even tighter in his hand.
“Demonology,” answered Peter his face illumintated by the light of his wand.
“Necromancy,” answered Penelope claimer and more relaxed than either of the boys.
“Yes,” said Dean Elderberry his voice suddenly cold “That’s pure grade Black Mana, one-fifty proof,” he added. “When The House of Midnight Fell, we found a whole store of it in the basement.”
“And you brought it here, to The Secret College?” asked Penelope “They say this kills any who drink it,”
“They also say it grants exceptional magical capabilities,” noted Peter.
“They say many things about it,” Corrected the Dean, “But no one knows for certain until they try it.”
“Is that why you brought us here?” asked Preston taking in the rows of the lethal substance in front of him “To try our luck with Black Mana?”
“Heavens no!” exclaimed The Dean “I simply wanted to show it to you, this is the most secure location in The Belvedere Court. Goodness knows you earned a peek. Now Miss Prism, plese put that back on the shelf and come along.”
He led them back the way they had come after Penelope secured the black botted. Soon they were back towards the light, and the shelves of other enchanted wines and potions that would grant the power to do the impossible.
As they retraced their steps Penelope noticed the wall just beyond where they had first arrived. A large circular disc was carved in the shape of a lion’s face with its golden mane cast in bronze while its other features gleamed in nickel and rhinestone. At first glance, one might take it for yet another overly ornate decoration among the shrine of heroic artifacts gathered over the years, yet upon closer inspection, it became all too clear that the face was in fact the door to a heavily secured vault.
“All around you is the history of our order,” said Elderberry, motioning to the paintings that hung above their heads, “The great Heroes look down on us tonight,” he continued, placing his attention to the paintings once more. “The Pendragon Order of the Round, our noble predecessors from the old country, The First Jack, The famous Lewiston Siblings, The Boy Who Played With Shadows, the list goes on and on…but it starts right here,” Elderberry said, as he let his words hang in the air and motioned to a portrait hanging just above him and the vault.
It was older than the rest and depicted a knight draped in a tunic with a lion’s head upon it, standing before a wall of thorny vines. In one hand he held a sword, and in the other, a chalice.
“Prince Charming the First,” said Elderberry, “…who, armed with but the most basic yet powerful of magics, True Love, vanquished the evil Fae Sorceress to win the hand of the fair Briar Rose.”
Both Preston and Peter were looking up at the painting with Penelope now. The knight gave them all a slight nod of approval.
“Now the line of Charming’s has long since passed,” said Elderberry, staring squarely down at the three youth’s in front of him. “Yet their treasures remain with us here still. The Fabled Charming Chalice, the first cup to ever bear liquid Mana among them, and tonight,” he said grabbing a rather simple looking bottle from the shelf closest to him “We shall drink from it as our brothers have before us.”
“Now you’re speaking my language!” said Preston following The Dean closely as they made their way to the vault.
The mouth of the metal lion grew wide as though it meant to consume the old wizard as he approached it. When only the mane remained, it turned counter-clockwise, expelling an aura of energy as the contents of the vault gleamed in the darkness.
Waving his own wand into the abyss before him, Elderberry ignited the room in golden flames to reveal the treasures of a thousand heroes to his three students. The Vault was bigger than the cellar, and its contents were worth more than the entire holdings of The Belvedere Court and half the magical families of Manhattan put together.
“Come,” said the old wizard beckoning them forward. “And don’t forget to bring your drinks”
The trio followed in his footsteps as the old professor crossed the threshold into the shining treasure room.
“Wait…,” said Elderberry raising a hand to stop them in their tracks as they neared a large dais-like pillar at the center of the room.
“What is it, Professor?” asked Penelope.
“The Chalice!” exclaimed Elderberry in disbelief. “…It’s gone.”
“Huh?” shrugged a puzzled Preston Pennyworth.
“That’s impossible,” noted Peter.
“Professor…?” asked Penelope of the old man standing in front of her. “Are you okay?”
The old man said nothing in response. He merely stood there still as stone. As Dean of The Secret College, Archibald Elderberry was well versed in the mysteries of Mana and magic, yet with the sight of the theft in front of him he seemed incapable of common sense.
Had he looked to the ground, he would have noticed the five black rats scurrying across the floor. Had he looked to the rats, he would have noticed how two of them carried the outlandish golden goblet silently with their tails. But most importantly, had he looked to Penelope Prism, he would of noticed the growing the smile across her mischievous face.