(Note: these guidelines are in the order we came up with them. General rules still apply, post the profiles in the profiles area. Link to your profile at the top of your first ic post. Keep ooc chatter to pm's and chatrooms. All questions direct to myself or Grimbold.)

Fantasy set in equivalent of mid 30's (same countries, same continents)

Main method of travel is ship, train, airships

Most things are technology mixed with magic. Magic is considered to be an art that works along side the science bit.

Main method of communication is telephone, telegram, and letters, letters is the cheap way, telegram is lower working class and up (priced per word), telephone gotta be at least middle class

English class structure
manual working class
---factory laborers
---maintenance
working class
---workers who've been promoted
---lower level management
Middle class
---middle management
---designers
---management
professionals
---doctors
---teachers
---have to have specific training
wealthy
---landed gentry
---"old money"

No television yet, but movie theaters, Cars are very rare (professionals and wealthy), bicycles are common, electric trams

Fashion: take your cue from this:
http://www.fashion-era.com/1930s/1930_a ... ping_2.htm

England is cultural center. Art style and design: art nevau has just faded, art deco is the latest thing, Tiffany glass is also big.

Money: Francs and centimes

History is mostly the same from our world, Great Depression is completely over

BMA- bachelor of magic arts

All research is done in universities, not private companies. Research is carried out within the universities, they have the facilities and access to PHD and other more advanced research students to assist. A large part of how the universities fund themselves is by selling commercial research and the facilities for outside groups to do their own.

Magic is more talent than skill; can be discovered at any age (kind of like music... some people are completely tone-deaf, others have perfect pitch). Usually ability becomes obvious around puberty, but can be discovered at other times.

Note: Racism is not an issue (except from the ideologies such as Nazism). Sexism has been mostly resolved.

EDIT: Forgot to put that Grim and I had agreed to use the American system of schooling... These are just average age though. Also, if the birthday is later than November, the kid has to wait a year before hitting first grade.

Pre School
Kindergarten- 5 years old

Primary School (Also known as Elementary school)
1st grade- 6yrs; 2nd - 7; 3rd - 8; 4th - 9; 5th - 10

6th grade (11 years old) is sometimes put in primary school, sometimes put with middle school

Middle School
7th grade - 12; 8th - 13

Secondary School (for you Americans, no, we're not going to use the Freshmen/senior levels at high school; it gets too confusing.)
9th - 14; 10th - 15; 11th - 16; 12th -17;

College (Undergraduate)
Freshman year: 18/19; Sophomore year 19/20; Junior year 20/21; Senior year 21/22

It's at the college level that one would get a bachelor's.

Additional, since we all seem to be working around Durham university I thought it would be useful to post a couple of links to give background to the university and city. Some of the history if the university can be found here: http://www.dur.ac.uk/about/history/. This is what Wikipedia has to say about the city: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durham, and try this for photographs of the city: http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=City+of+Durham+in+photos&btnG=Search&meta=

Grimbold AKA Joseph Stewart.

[ooc]As promised, the link to the profile:

Emily Brown

Emily raced down the stairs, through the kitchen, pecked her mother on the cheek outside by the laundry line, and straight to the mail-box. She opened it, knowing the letter just had to be there. And it was! She raced back inside, the way she had come, then paused to compose herself. She knocked twice on the door to the sitting room, and then entered immediately, the door already being open. Mrs. Curzon looked up, and smiled at her.

So, you've received a letter, have you?

Emily nodded, and Mrs. Curzon gestured towards a chair. Emily handed the envelope to Mrs. Curzon, who took a quick glance at the college, then handed it back to Emily. Emily carefully tore it open, and read it outloud.

Jessica Rowen Elizabeth Curzon. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the mathematical position on scholarship for half of the complete price.

Oh Madam! I can go there, can't I!

The stately woman nodded.

I'll even get you the appropriate dresses. The tutor has requested it for you, it shall be done.

With tears in her eyes, Emily hugged the smiling woman.

Thank you! Thank you so much!

Her mother was at the door, and hugged her as well. The elated girl danced out the door, pranced to the ball room, and twirled her excitement out. Her patron's son came in, and smiled at her twirls. Stepping up, he bowed, and she grinned. They started waltzing playfully, she as oblivious to the looks he gave her as he was to the looks she gave him. He didn't need to ask, he knew what it had to be. She had gotten in to St. Mary's at Durham University.

Joseph Stewart

With September coming round and a new year starting at University Joseph and his butler, Atkins, were packing for their return to the small flat that he kept near the main buildings of the university close to the Cathedral. He found himself looking forward to the view across the deeply cut river valley with the weir, and the town spread out below and around him. Most of the colleges were centred about the middle of the city and the cathedral itself.

Joseph and the other staff who didn't stay during the long summer holiday all returned a week before the students were due to arrive. There were lots of preparations to make for the next cohort. After the indolence of life in the castle over the summer the return to Durham and work would be a shock. It was last year, his first experience of earning a living. The young man hoped it wouldn't be so bad this time round.

Taking a break from pretending to pack his clothes, he went to the window and looked out over the valley laid out before him. The grouse shooting parties were in full swing the estate was buzzing, it was a good year. He would like to spend more time here, it was where his friends were, the gillies and ground staff. He always got on with them better than his so called peers. Taking out a silver cigarette case out of his jacket pocket he took out a cigarette and concentrating hard for a moment summoned a small flame and lit the it. He didn't really like smoking but somehow it was expected of one, so he felt almost obliged. At least when he was back at the university he could leave his title behind, and with it some of the trappings too.

A gentle cough broke his reverie and he turned to see Atkins his man standing in the doorway.

"Does Sir require me to finish his packing?" he asked his voice dripping with obsequiousness.

"Yes thank you, Atkins."

Atkins was one of the trappings that he could not leave, even if one worked for a living there was no way the son of a Duke was going to get away without having a gentleman's gentleman. And in truth Atkins kept his life in order when he had other things to worry about. Joseph stubbed out the barely started cigarette and left the room. He walked through the castle to the kitchen and out to the estate office to say farewell to Johnson, the estate manager. Having done that he wandered to the front of the castle to look at the view while he waited for Atkins to bring out the cases and the chauffeur to bring the car to take them the 40 miles to the railway station for the trip to Durham.

He was looking forward to getting back, but at the same time regretting leaving the place that was home. He sighed as the old Rolls Royce purred round the corner from the carriage shed where it was kept. Soon they would be on their way.

Edwin James Blackstone

“Alright lads!” cried the voice of one among many chattering students, not yet back in the dorms.
“Here’s the list. Flasks, bottles, cards, and…. From America, truly yours, popcorn!”

Cheers went up as the American treat was passed around the table. Lightly salted and buttered, the British lads dove their greedy hands in without a second thought.

That was their first mistake.

Moments later, there were desperate calls for water as a single blond boy stood over the gasping group. He grinned at them all, the fat prats that had made his life miserable were now choking on their own misfortune of having messed with Edwin Blackstone. One of the boys, a ruddy young man named Charlie Burns, lashed a hand out to grab Edwin’s ankle.

“What did you spike it with?” Charlie demanded as he choked. Edwin grinned and got down to eye level with Charlie.

“Paprika and chili you twit.”

Edwin said with a sneer. He rose to his feet and walked out of the pub room only to his ears pulled by a strong hand. Edwin whipped around to see a taller man smiling down on him. The tall man’s kind gray eyes caused Edwin to look down in shame.

“Come along Edwin,” the man said, watching the school boys choke on their spiked popcorn.
“You’ve done your deed for today.”

Taking Edwin’s shoulder the man guided the sullen Edwin out to the street.

“Really Edwin, I don’t know what Master Kain would say if he saw that kind of behavior from you.”

The man didn’t sound angry or even displeased. Edwin smiled and looked up at the man.

“Why Hughes! He would ask why I didn’t lace it with rat poison.”

The two laughed. The man, misnamed at birth, Hughes Rowling, took Edwin by the shoulder shaking his head all the while. He had known Edwin as a boy, and in the absence of the Master’s presence at the school, had been appointed to take care of the boy’s welfare. Young, but sickly Hughes had a sweet smile that made many ladies want to care for him. In Edwin's uncalled for opinion the sooner Hughes found a doting wife to care for him the better. But he knew better then to pry into Hughes's past life, there was something there that Edwin felt he should never touch about his friend. He half wondered if Hughes even knew how to love, never having seen him with another woman. No matter, it wasn't his business.

A strong hang guided him sternly around a street corner and deeper into the cobbleston streets, Edwin always felt bad about getting caught by person who had been the kindest to him. But no matter, Hughes’s inexhaustible patience had forgiven him every time.

“Come let’s go to your dorm.” Hughes said in a calm voice.


ooc: Sorry about not having the profile up. It's fixed now.

Nils Borden

"Och. Has the time to teach come so soon?"

Nils Borden turned in time to spy a professor shuffling past him grumbling under his breath. For a moment Borden thought he was mistaken to be a professor himself. Indeed, with his carefully put-together ensemble--five years out-of-date and smelling of mothballs--he could play the role of the absent-minded professor down to a tee. Except his head was held a bit too high and his stride had a proud lope that betrayed his Oxford breeding. If he were at Cambridge he would have been murdered, but he was at Durham, which contained enough of its own rivalries to overshadow his. Careful to tuck his hat lower onto his face, Borden allowed himself a smile. Most of the students had the luxury of a summer break, but with the neverending deluge of research and projects and conferences, the faculty of Durham University seemed to never have a moment's pause to enjoy balmy days such as this one.

However, the blue sky was marred by a curl of dark smoke emitted near one of the spires of Durham's buildings. The air reeked of smoke and the acrid odor of burning chemicals. As Borden neared the site, to no surprise and even to his delight, he found that the smoke rose from the charred remains of machinery. The burnished metal had been twisted awkwardly in what had been an unsuccessful flight experiment among the Durham mechanical engineering staff, but with a trained eye Borden could discern that they were once part of the graceful boning that formed the wings of an airship. Swarming about the defunct machine, the mechanics put out the fire to salvage what materials they could. Someone had magicked precipitation from the air, but as the water made contact with the hot surfaces, the air grew heavy with steam, obscuring any hope of identifying his personal acquaintances.

Soon, a wavering silhouette of a gangly man emerged from the smoke, wiping off the soot from his goggles, too excited to concentrate to magic the lenses clean. His turban was askew, and his face shined with sweat and dirt. He greeted Borden with a brief handshake.

"Salutations, Mr. Scott."

"Ah, Mr. Bhatta," Borden replied identifying the slight Indian lilt in the man's voice, who had also been careful enough to greet him with a different name to thwart prying ears. During the past five years he had worn several names to the bone--Mr. Conroy, Mr. Baker, Mr. Smith, and when he was adventurous Dr. Englebarthlomew. Today Nils Borden was Mr. Scott.

"So which one is it?" asked Borden indicating the crumpled aircraft.

"Gladys," frowned Mr. Bhatta. The aircraft were all identified with women's names of an older time, glamorous, dramatic, and graceful--Isadora, Corinne, Evelyn, Aubrey, Kay. Now women insisted on shortening their names to boyish ones. Winifreds became Freddies, Jessicas became Jessies, Madelines became Matties--a remnant of the Roaring 20's perhaps. "What a disastrous way to ring in the new quarter. For them at least."

"Gladys was one of the larger crafts they were working on wasn't it?"

"The largest. Plenty of spare parts for us." Mr. Bhatta reached into his turban to extract a smudgy but well-manufactured sprocket, equipment that could only be gained by the universities. He grinned toothily and winked, a Western gesture he picked up during his years as a translator in British India. Borden examined the sprocket. It obviously came from the smoking site they were leaving behind and he grinned as well. "And still more to come. The smoke and steam I accidentally created should give us more time to smuggle the larger parts off campus."

"Well done, Mr. Bhatta." Borden returned the sprocket to him. "Will you be joining us at the Estate for tea?"

"Certainly, Mr. Scott."

And with that, the two parted ways before they could draw attention to themselves, leaving Borden time to stroll the campus before tea time at the Borden Estate.

Profile Link:
http://www.roleplaygateway.com/viewtopic.php?f=101&t=2351

Peter was lost, he looked down at his room number and read the number 403, looking on the walls he read 178. “Gosh darn it, I’ve still got a lot to walk eh?” he said to himself and continued on walking. He lugged his luggage with him, getting tired he dropped his luggage and sighed, running his hand through his blond hair he smiled. Picking up all his stuff he once again began walking.

Peter had been walking for ever; looking back up at the numbers on the door he saw that he was nearing his dorm. He opened up the door dropping all his stuff on the floor he walked over to the bed, dropping onto the bed he sighed again. He was exhausted, getting up he walked over to his stuff, he took out a paper and feather; he began writing to his family. Once he finished he stepped outside the dorm and began searching for somewhere to send his letter, he soon got lost once again. He began wandering around hoping to find some sort of post office soon.

An old brick building marked the Men’s dormitory. Ages could have come and gone without a single brick coming out of place. It was apart of the charm of living at the University that Edwin loved. The grounds were full of students with their parents and servants, all engaged with settling down to a life at University. Pops and fizzles from chemistry sets, old clocks being moved from off their fireplace mantels clanging, trunks hovering and bumping into one another as they were unloaded. Edwin stopped to watch, noting the new students. Many would be around his age finally, and a few older. He grinned, yet he would have seniority over all of them. He had earned his BMA with a few notes of sour comments from the staff.

Hughes stopped as well, his expression utterly content, almost serene. Edwin wished he had one of those new fangled cameras to capture the moment. There was just something about Hughes that always caught his attention. Then the movement was broken with a spasm of deep coughs. Hughes was no longer serene, rather he looked ill again. From the hankercheif in Hughes’s hand, Edwin caught the red colour that stained the cloth.

“Come along now.”

The words were simple, but Edwin knew it was a command to follow. He looked at the last of the black trunks hovering over the grass and kicked one causing a chain reaction of trucks scattering. The curses of the porters echoed and Hughes clouted the young man over the head before whisking the boy away to the Men’s dorms. If the outside was busy, the brick building that was the Men’s dorms was catastrophic. Men barks orders amid smoke and steam. Trunks rammed into other trunks, curses soared through the servant’s back passages and tight halls. Young men tried to make their voices heard over the bustle as their fathers bellowed out orders to servants who were heaving furniture and equipment lockers.

Hughes swept through the crowd with a given ease, some of the ports almost mistaking Hughes for a girl for his figure was almost as slender as one. Edwin was quick to follow. Up the stairs they went, the noise growing fainter and fainter till it was nothing but a low hum. Hughes opened a door. The two stepped in. Edwin looked around in pleasure.

Room 267 was a larger room then what most students got. That was due to the fact that no one wanted to live up here. In the winters it would be cold and drafty, and in the spring it would leak. But it was paradise to the young man. The factory windows were dirty and needed washing, and the exposed copper and lead piping would need treatment…. But to Edwin, the real prize was that it had a real workspace. A long workbench for his pleasure alone; for no other bed was in the room. Who else would want to live here? But what Edwin didn’t notice was that the room was bigger then he first thought. There was a half wall that showed the room was a double room.

“I’m sure your roommate will be here shortly.” Hughes said as he sat down, cloth pressed to his face. Edwin’s face fell. But the young man didn’t have time to pout, a porter with a trunk came bustling by, his fat face red and sweaty. He didn’t speak, he just shoved the hovering trunk forward and bide the two good day as all was in good order. Edwin tackled the trunk, Hughes watched with his mysterious smile. Instruments were handled with care as Edwin set up his little shop of horrors. Clothes however were another matter. School uniforms were thrown over the floor. Silently Hughes picked up the clothes and put them away neatly, every once in a while a coughing spasm tore the silence. But at every spasm, Edwin’s determination to save his friend from the terrible illness grew.

“I must leave you now.” Hughes said softly. “The Master will require me at home I will report to him that you are safe and settled in… Oh and Edwin…”

Edwin looked up.

“You know where to find me in the town. Please behave this year. We don’t want to hear any announcements for early retirement stemming from your actions.” Wit that, Hughes stood at the door and Edwin rushed forward to deliver a very affectionate hug and receive the costmary kiss on the cheek that families give. Hughes smiled and patted Edwin on the head like he had when the young man was a child.

“I’ll do my best!” Edwin declared much to the amusement of Hughes, who was already a shadow in the dimly lit hallways.

“Alright! Now to explore my courses…” Edwin pulled from his coat a list.

“Professor Grumblebutt in the morning…. Dr. Jackass right before lunch…. Joseph Stewart…” Edwin paused, “I haven’t had him so he’s on the good list… Oh! I got Dr. Albert again! Yes!” Fond memories flooded Edwin’s mind. The kooky old man was one of Master Kain’s former teachers and treated Edwin every once in a while to see what secrets or projects he was working on. But Edwin loved the old man for another reason; Dr. Albert was not against having fun. Often duped a old fellow, ready for a quiet retirement, Dr. Albert was a man who was indeed a figure who knew everything about the campus at any given time.

Edwin ran down the steps and out into the hallways, he was FREE!

“Maybe I should check out Stewart’s classroom… See if he’s in… Maybe the staff won’t have time to warn him I’m in his class!”

OOC: I am sorry to upset you Edwin, but Stewart does not teach, he is merely a technician and he assists in demonstrations, setting up practicals, and with research staff if they require parts machined in the laboratories machine shop. I have also added a few links to the end of the introduction post to give those not familiar with Durham some idea of the place.

The luggage was loaded into the old Rolls Royce and Joseph sat in the back with Atkins in the front next to the driver they set off on the drive to the station. Once there the baggage was split: most being held back for another train it would go by freight, the two men took only light hand baggage containing what they would need for the first few days while the rest caught up with them. They had to make three changes of train and manhandling all luggage from one train to another was not practical. The two settled into the first class compartment of the train and did all the things people do to while away a train journey. Reading the paper, discussing the news, worrying over the apparent expansionist speeches of one Adolf Hitler recently elected to the chancellorship of Germany. They made their changes and arrived at Durham station late in the day.

The station was heaving with students returning early from the summer break, accompanied by servants and parents. It was the same every year and Joseph silently vowed again to come back a few days early next year to avoid the crush. He and Atkins took their bags and took the twenty minute walk to their home for the rest of the university year.

Joseph handed his things to Atkins and turned to head to the university administration buildings. He had to report to the Chancellor and see what work needed doing for the first of the lectures and classes this year. Usually there was little to do for the first week or so, everyone was too busy settling in, sorting out timetable clashes, and for most of the students getting roaring drunk in the many public houses around the university.

As he was the senior technician for the Magical research department most of what he did would be to administer the other technicians but there was always the odd professor or lecturer who would demand his services for some classes and more complex demonstrations.

The Chancellor was busy, he always was at this time of year, but took time to greet Joseph back to work.

"Good afternoon my lord." In spite of Joseph's attempts to stop him the Chancellor always seemed to take pleasure in emphasising his title. Joseph worked hard at hiding his position from his colleagues and the students, but the Chancellor had his own contacts and knew who just about everyone was.

"Thank you Chancellor, but please I have asked you many times to not use that title sir. I am going to my office to start sorting the staff out for the start of term. I just called in to let you know I was back at work, Sir."

"Of course, my lord. Your status is known only to me. I shall see you at top table for the first dinner of the year of course."

The Chancellor always insisted on his attendance of all the university dinners, it was not an onerous task, the meals were excellent and the university kept a marvellous cellar.

"Of course Chancellor, but I must go, I have work to do."

Joseph was never sure that the Chancellor's quip about his status was not a threat, almost as if were he to rock the boat in any way the Chancellor might let it out. Joseph certainly was always extremely careful to accede to the requests of the Chancellor.

He walked to his office in his department and spent a couple of hours sorting out rotas and ensuring all the jobs would be done before returning to his home. Atkins had produced an excellent dinner, as usual. They ate and after dinner Joseph took an early night ready for the first day of term tomorrow.

Edwin rushed across campus trying to find Stewart’s classroom, but as he wandered the halls he became more confused. Wasn’t Stewart teaching? Finally Edwin turned and found one of the few friends he had on the campus. Jack Sutton, or Jackstraw, was one of the few people Edwin felt he could trust enough with his back. Edwin smiled to the half Scot, who tipped his hat and glided towards Edwin with an uncanny grace. Jackstraw was popular, smart, well connected and from a well to do family. The problem was, like most second sons, Jackstraw was bored. Having Edwin as a friend was merely another asset in his mind, Edwin didn’t mind. Jackstraw, with his poker face, dismissive attitude, and calm voice had gotten him out of trouble more then once with the staff. Edwin stopped to ask where he could find the elusive Stewart classroom.

“Edwin, when will you learn to read things properly? There isn’t a teacher by that name.” Jackstraw said with a sniff as he watched a pair of pretty girls walk by. He was shaking his head as Edwin drew out his paper, the girls long gone around a corner.

“But it’s right here!” Edwin cried as he waved the class schedule in front of Jackstraw, who snatched it out of the shorter man’s hand. His eyes scanned over the paper, and then narrowed.

“There’s a mistake… He’s a technician… Ah! I see where the mistake is. The names got switched around. You see Edwin, Stewart is the recommended technician to go to if you have some mechanical problems… Professor Hawthorn is the teacher. Yes… shoddy office work. Some new secretary must have mixed this up. Poor lass, she probably didn’t know better… Oh? Da Vinci's concepts again? Come now… The study of Might and Magic? Don’t you ever give up? You have a talent for magic, why try and explain it? And what's this? Einstein? What has physics got to do with you?”

Edwin sighed, already tired of being scolded by Jackstraw, “Einstein’s theories are on somewhere on the mark, I just know it. I don’t care what Germany says about him, I think he’s got something with the integration of physics and magical instruments.”

“You keep your concepts to yourself. There are some who think he’s gone off the deep end. Besides, there are plenty of German sympathizers as well who will soon as kill you if you spoke out against their new leader.”

But Edwin's attention had already shifted, he held no interest in politics.
“Who’s that?”

The boys froze and looked out on the grounds. A strange man in a brown suit was walking across the grounds, free and as friendly as you please. There was something about that stride that bothered Edwin, like he should know who it was. Clearly Jackstraw knew, for his mouth was slightly forming the name on his lips.

“Maze… It’s Mr. Maze himself. My, my, Edwin, one mad man for another eh? He’s donated more money that an American businessman can hope to see in his lifetime.” Jackstraw watched Mr. Maze carefully.

“Yes, he’s very interested in Magical arts and all that.” Giving a side glance at Edwin, Jackstraw grinned,

“Maybe he’s after your school records, or looking for your mystery master…”

Edwin gave a stout punch into Jackstraw’s bony arm.

“Shove off… He has no reason, he’s an airship man.”

“Funnier things have happed.” Jackstraw said in a wispy tone, gliding away again as the bells tolled out from the church. Edwin sighed and went out to the grounds, found a clear place to sit and watched the bustle of the crowd. A small orb of light dancing through his fingers before going back into a pocket watch Edwin carried, mulling over Jackstraw’s words.

OOC: I actually have some very specific ideas about this math prof... maybe enough to turn her into a real character

She didn't notice the man until his hand was on the boy's shoulder. She shrank back against the wall, then she heard the boy's mutterings. Maze? Maze himself was here? Not only that, but defending her? Barely before she had time to properly take it in and recover, the boys were gone and he was making sure she was alright. You're a noble, remember that. A hint of blush turned her cheeks pink, offsetting the periwinkle color of her dress.

I'm fine, thank you.

She gave a small curtsy, then hurried away, not wanting any conversation with the older nobles just yet. As she wove her way through the crowd, she did what she could to avoid pretty well everyone. Her first stop was the maths professor, Dr. Taylor.

Her first impression of Dr. Taylor was seeing a short-haired woman dressed in a black leather jacket, a matching skirt, and combat boots staring intently at some sort of problem on the chalk board that covered one wall of the professor's office. The woman turned around, first startled, then pleased, to see her. She actually remembered her from the interview, and hinted that one day she expected Emily to take her place. She insisted that all the students called her Jo, and "Jessica" should do the same, but the closest Emily felt comfortable with was Dr. Jo. She shrugged, and took that, brushing some of the bright orange hair out of her eyes. There was no way that was her natural hair color.

Her second stop had been the Magical Research prof. That man had seemed quite kind past the briskness with which he quizzed her on her knowledge of the magical arts. He was satisfied with her grasp of theory, and a touch disappointed that she appeared to have no aptitude for magic at all. His quick pace had left her dizzy and with absolutely no recollection of what he or his office looked like, but an absolute surety that she would recognize him no matter where they should meet again. Rather, no impression of his office other than it was full of books and papers.

Third stop was the physics professor, who had seemed very distracted. Emily doubted he had heard a single word she said the entire time; he had only answered her with grunts and the occasional short, three-word sentence. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what he was doing, seemingly drawing in the air. She didn't know that this was usual for him. The slightly chubby man had a very hands-on memory, and had a blackboard etched in his mind.

The last prof was a history prof, and she left that office quickly. This tall, slender, imposing figure had snapped at her for bothering him, and in general made her feel like she would drop out of college within a week. This puzzled her because she had overheard another student talking about how great professor Triole was. Almost in tears, she walked slowly to the last office, that of the technician, Joseph Stewart. She wanted to be composed when she got there.

He surprised her by responding to her tentative knock by inviting her in and offering her tea. In their conversation, she discovered that he had enjoyed Dr Jo's class as much as she expected to. She also discovered that he was usually bothered by people for the sole purpose of doing something, making or fixing things. She was invited to return, and had left with the promise that she would. She made her way to the mess hall, ate dinner rather quickly, then headed to her room.

Edwin lay on his back dozing on the grass, the breezes passing over him He was glad to be back in place where he felt the safest. Dusk fell over Edwin as he opened his eyes to the early stars. Smiling, he sat up and then brushed himself off. He heard the chattering of the other students, their voices just as eager as he was to start lessons. The world was good and whole as velvet night came and Edwin couldn’t help but explain it as a time when all was good with the world. He spread his hands wide and his fingers even wider as he tilted his head back. Soft glows of light came off his fingers tips. Like tiny blue fire flies the small glowing orbs went all over the open space where Edwin stood, the lights leaving his finger tips to float around him, the very center. In Edwin's mind, he was surrounded by the glowing stars above.

It was a small reminder of his earliest memory with his Master. His master creating these small orbs and then releasing them for him to chase as the summer nights wore on as Hughes would stand in the doorway watching with a faint smile. Over the years Edwin had learned the secret of the orbs, just minor masses of energy that were released over a controlled period, but he never forgot the wonder they still held for him. Sighing Edwin decided he would go off to the dorms.

He didn’t regret coming in late at all. It was worth it to have a few moments of his past come back to him. Yawning, Edwin flopped onto his bed, barely listening to the shuffle of other students below and around him. Closing his eyes Edwin dreamed of tomorrow.

And tomorrow would be filled with scouting for his newest exploits.

Edwin would be awaken with a gentle shake from the house maid as she went to the fireplace and stroked the fire. Then she left as Edwin sat up, still more then half asleep… Edwin sat up all for a full minute and then fell backwards fast asleep.

The clocks in the room ticked, and the bed over the half wall was no longer empty. Jackstraw had been reassigned to this room at his request, having disliked his roommate intensely. Jackstraw slept on the other half of the room, his things were laid out much more neatly then Edwin's. A mark of silent protest that because he was in a lower ranking dorm room, he would not have to live like it.

Edwin’s books were on the shelf but it looked like he had just thrown them in… But there was something else the student brought with him. A small black box with silver designs all over it sat on the workbench, ready to be looked over; a gift from his master. To Edwin, he called it, “Pandora’s box” for he couldn’t open it, and the curiosity ate at him from within. Some books and scrolls splattered across the workbench gave some hints as to what was inside but to Edwin, he took the research with a great pinch of salt.

"National Socialism Rises to Power in Germany." Borden considered the headline splashed across the top of the newspaper he was reading. It was something he had picked up during his stroll through the city. Turning the page, he reclined in a tattered leather easy chair, his legs propped up on the table before him. Nearby a kettle bubbled gently on a stray bunsen burner and the pleasant smell of coffee wafted through the dim room. He was reading by the light of a few rickety electric lights that were strung across the ceiling. No sunlight would reach these quarters, for there were no windows down here. And according to the old cuckoo clock by the door to the stairs that lead to the upper floors, evening was approaching fast.

The cuckoo clock chirped. It had been enchanted to announce the presence of anyone at the front gates. A small figurine bird popped out of the clock face. It was one figurine bird out of many others, and on its wooden chest was etched the initials "A. M."

Even without looking at it, Borden knew who it was the figurine bird represented. Outsiders rarely ventured onto the Borden Estate. Five years had faded away any of the old Borden intrigue. They were too long gone from the spotlight. The journalists had long since lost interest in the incident with the Borden boy and the state of the Estate. Not even tourists bothered with this relic of the past now that society was speeding onto more modern things.

Going to answer the front gate himself, Borden strode across the length of the room toward the stairs. His steps echoed off of the various tables on which were strewn gyroscopes, tools, blueprints. It was rather crowded, but everything was shoved into one side to make room for the massive object that stood at the other end of what used to be an underground hangar. It was covered with a vast white sheet through which one would see the graceful outlines of an airship. Another corner was roped off, another sheet curtaining what lay behind it from view.

He heard the whistle of the kettle of coffee go off behind him as he was half way up the stairs. It was too late to go back and turn off the bunsen burner, and he did not want to keep his father-in-law waiting.

Through the wrought iron front gate Borden could see the shiny length of a Rolls Royce, looking slightly out of place among the Estate's unkempt landscaping. He waved by lifting an arm.

"Arthur," he said, letting slip a fond grin. "Honored to have you back at the Estate even after... what did you say? Oh yes, 'Tea time with no tea and cakes! We ought to hold these meetings at Trickett House!' '"

He grasped the old man by the arm to help him out of the car and they hugged each other firmly. Arthur Maze was impeccable as usual. Borden was only slightly aware of his own appearance and smell from walking through the city, the smoke clung to his clothes. His face was probably still streaked with sweat. He, like the house, had let himself fall into disrepair.

"Well, I regret to inform you that there is still no tea and cakes, but I hope you can stomach burned coffee."