thoughtformed | [Action]

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[The island's mischief hasn't taken England's powers, but it has rather altered the way he's capable of using them.

Now, this scruffy little backwater wizard is living in a small shack near the edge of the forest, and while there's not much movement outside, occasionally puffs of coloured smoke can be seen rising from the chimney.

Should you happen to pass by the place you may hear muffled explosions and cursing. The door is unlocked and a little way ajar, and though the young wizard may not appreciate the intrusion.. don't let it stop you..]

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[Oh.. well, that's a bit better. He gets up, mending the desk with a flick of one hand (if leaving one leg slightly too short, resulting in anything still on top of it sliding to wedge itself in the corner between the wall and the cabinet beside it), and brushes himself off, straightening his clothes.]

I suppose I do have a moment to spare.

[He makes his way over to the door, taking care not to linger on the threshold and simply stepping outside.]

What is it?

[She gives way courteously with another slight bend that might be a bow.]

I am on quest, ser wizard, and have passed through the court of the Forest Queen, but even she could not tell me where I might find its ending. Would you be willing to examine the object of my quest to see if there is anything you might tell me about it?

... Oh.

[Not a waste of his time after all. Arthur clears his throat and straightens his clothes, as if to shake off what must have been a rather poor first impression, and nods curtly.]

Certainly. Come along inside. I'll see what I can do.

[The paladin nods grave appreciation and acceptance, gesturing for him to lead the way. From its place at her hip she unbuckles the battered sheath of a long eastern blade and holds it level across her hands.]

There are great magics laid on this blade, Master wizard, and I know not their nature, nor how well they may interact with your own spells and wardings. But it has lain quiet for a year and more, but for a few small incidences. And none of those were violent on the blade's part.

Hn. I see. Come in, come in. Lay it on the table here-- ah.

[There's not really any room on the table to put it down, so he fixes that by moving a lot of the things that are on it to somewhere else (with no small amount of huffing and puffing in the meantime).]

Here, put it down, let me have a look.

[As curious as she is in all his bits and bobs, she restrains herself to merely looking around interestedly while he moves everything. Was it something there that had produced that fascinating smoke, or something over here? Hm! Spirits knew she wouldn't be able to tell on her own.

She puts it out of her mind for now and lays the sword across the table, careful to balance it so that it doesn't go sliding down to that short corner. The sheath is nothing particularly special, being a plain black marked with the scars of past battles, but the sword itself was something different. The hilt was resplendent, ivory wrapped in red leather with a gold and jade guard, beneath which the blade lay, shimmering when moved as though sparks were caught under the surface. A strange script was etched down the spine-edge, bearing a message no one had been able to read.

Keeping her face carefully neutral, the paladin steps back to give the young man room to work.]

Is there anything I might tell you which may assist your efforts?

[He's reluctant to touch it, at first. Weapons like this can be tricky at the best of times. His hand moves over it, not quite touching, and he hums under his breath as he feels the aura around it.]

Anything you know might be of use.

[She tilts her head and turns a palm up in something like a shrug.]

Primarily I know legends rather than facts, but I shall tell you what I know.

It's a family heirloom - very old - and belongs to a noble family. It has always had great magic about it, and knows those who should bear it. It is said to speak to them, and only they to whom the blade belongs can read the inscription. Those who attempt to steal the sword find themselves injured too badly to run within fifteen feet of the place they started from. Whether there is lightning from a clear sky, a placid horse wheels and plants a hoof in the offender's chest, a stray arrow caught by the wind takes them through the throat, a marmot hole breaks their ankle... It does not appear to be the sword's work, but what else could it be?

It does not harm those with no intent to remove it from its chosen bearer, and if it is willingly given to someone it does not object. Yet if born by one not of the appropriate lineage, it always seems to find its way back in the end.

The royalty of that line can all wield it, but it is said to prefer the first-born, and it is they whom it protects most assiduously. They say it grants inhuman speed and reflexes, and can slow the advance of poison or disease. Even heal small wounds, given time.

The line of kings it the kingdom it guards is coming to an end. But their eldest prince has been long gone - stolen away 'tis now thought. Mayhap he does not even know his lineage. So I was tasked with finding him and giving him the sword.

Curious..

[That's an old enchantment indeed. So few now have the skills to bind in blood. It makes him hesitant to touch it - the magical aura around it is one that he can feel even without making contact - and he rather enjoys living despite claims he often makes to the contrary (most involving being surrounded by idiots).]

I can't be the first wizard you've come across. [He looks at her doubtfully. They were scattered, but finding one in a court was certainly not unheard of.]

No. It is through them that some of these legends have come to light. But none could tell me any more about whom I might be seeking, or where I might better direct my search.

[Beat.]

None of them were harmed in handling the sword.

Ah.

[Yes, that's more like what he wanted to hear. He finally places one hand on the sword and draws in a soft, hissing breath through his teeth. The aura of magic on the weapon is really nothing compared to what he gets from touching it.

He shakes his head quickly, concentrating, then leaves the sword itself alone, instead moving across the room to pick up a large shard of black glass.]

Are you familiar with scrying, perchance?

[An open-palmed gesture bats away the suggestion.]

Only the general idea. Seeing images in a reflective surface, yes? A pool, a silver bowl... Glass from the fire mountain?

[He lifts the piece of glass as she speaks those last words, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he brings it back to the table and lays it down beside the sword.]

Precisely. If I can get this right, I should be able to..

[With one hand on the sword and the other touching the glass, he looks down at the black surface, lips moving in a silent incantation.]

[Prudently, the warrior steps back, simply watching and wondering if this will be one of those spells which produces a result visible for all, or simply for the caster. The sword doesn't seem to be resisting the spell, in any case. At least, there is no outward sign, and it isn't complaining to her or threatening yet. So she waits.]

[His eyes dart from the sword to the blackened glass, his lower lip caught between his teeth. After a moment, his expression shifts, eyes narrowing, and he shakes his head.]

It tells me nothing save for what you already know..

[A sigh. He pushes the glass away and picks the weapon up.]

These markings, I'm sure I've seen them somewhere else.

[She sighs a little, unsurprised. Well, it was worth the try. But that second note recaptures her attention fully.]

You have? I don't suppose you remember where?

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