Chapter 1: The Conspiracy is Hatched
Manfred Bloor was silent. He was seated in front of his grandfather, Ezekiel Bloor amidst dozens and dozens of teachers and students. Ezekiel Bloor himself was perched in the middle of the room, his frail form hunched over and wrapped in all sorts of quilts, thick, thin, and colorful. His eyes bulged from his ancient skull of a face as he surveyed the room. "Everyone is here, then," he rasped, irritably.
Dr. Bloor eyed his father nervously. "Nearly, father," he replied, clasping his hands in front of him. "I think we're still waiting for Ms. Chrystal and Lord Grimwald." Ezekiel's face distorted into an ugly, impatient grimace. He wished he could walk, so that he could chase down those fools who dared to be late for his meeting. But he was confined to a wheelchair, and it was all thanks to that wretched Lyell Bone. His attention was recaptured when he heard the massive doors fly open, and through them breezed two familiar characters.
"Sorry we're so late, Ezekiel," mused Ms. Chrystal lightly, "but we're here now and I say we ought to get this meeting on with." Lord Grimwald, meanwhile, made no move to justify himself.
Ezekiel Bloor grunted his acceptance. "Alright," he began thickly, "I'm sure you all know what this meeting is about." A collective mhmm of agreement rose from the crowd. Ezekiel gave a throaty chuckle. "Then you know that Charlie Bone and his wretched friends have been causing more trouble. They recently succeeded in the rescue of Asa Pike." Ezekiel saw glares sweep across the crowd simultaneously. He smiled, a dark, twisted smile. "And who can we credit for their success?" he roared, his bony fist sailing into the air. "What wretched force sealed those brats' success?" The crowd's faces went blank. Ezekiel groaned. "It was his wand!" he thundered. "It guided him. And I say if we want to win, it needs to be in our control."
"But Ezekiel, darling," cooed Aunt Lucretia, "he clings to it like glue does to paper. We'll never be able to convince him to part with it."
Ezekiel pounded a clenched fist into an open palm. "I've been thinking we ought to convince him with something stronger than just words. Are there any ideas?"
A dumb silence descended upon the room. Faces creased with thought, or went blank with stupidity, or remained emotionlessly blank.
It was Aunt Venetia's voice that pierced the stupefied atmosphere. "Perhaps we could use one of his friends as an argument," she suggested, her voice greased with honey and oil.
Ezekiel broke into a smile. "Are you implying that we take a hostage?" he rasped. "Venetia, you clever old coot!"
Aunt Venetia frowned. "Don't call me that," she said. "But yes, that's what I'm saying. We'll blackmail him with one of his friends." She twisted a lock of her dark hair around a finger. "Which one?"
"It doesn't matter," Ezekiel replied. "Although I guess there are some wiser choices than others…" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "They're all close friends," he spoke at last. "So they'll all have equal value to the wretch, Charlie. I say we go for the easiest target. Who would that be?"
Another pause. Then Manfred spoke up. "The Silk boy," he called. "His endowment will make things easy for us."
Ezekiel smiled. "Perfect….and I think I have a plan."