Cedric the Great - though nobody but himself called him by that title - was the royal sorcerer of Enchancia, answering directly to King Roland II. The title meant almost nothing inside the castle, granting him little more than room and board. In the village, his standing was treated more reverently, leaving him to live his life in an awkward limbo, stuck in a grey area between royal and peasant. This obvious truth was one of many things that caused him to be a very lonely man. He told himself that he didn't mind, having never truly gotten along with anyone besides his mother, anyway. But in quiet moments, like the ones spent in the woods outside of Dunwiddie, replenishing the magical ingredients that grew too common to the region to be worth selling at the charmacy, it became painfully obvious that he wouldn't mind some company now and then.

His thoughts were elsewhere, today.

Not on his near solitary existence, but on his magical failings, a subject that left him feeling utterly loath to return to the palace at all. Today was Queen Sara's birthday, and from his unique position in the woods, he could hear strains of both the raucous music of the village bash and the more refined tones of the celebration being held at the castle. While planning the festivities, King Roland had requested a simple firework spell, one Cedric practised secretly for weeks, taking great care to perfect it before the day arrived. And yet, with all royal eyes on him as he stood alone on the stage, he had stuttered his way through the spell, the way he all too often tended to when performing under pressure.

Instead of fireworks, he conjured up a great thunderstorm that nearly destroyed the Queen's ball. Certain that he could get it right this time, he urged the King to allow him another try but he was quickly dismissed, as usual. His head hung in shame, he exited the festivities and made his way here. Alone among the trees and flowers, he allowed himself to block out the competing tunes and sulk over his latest failure properly.

The sorcerer was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the crash several metres away from him. Almost.

At first he assumed it to be some animals, until he drew closer and heard the unmistakable sound of human cries. Approaching cautiously, he began to recognise the form of a small child, no more that four, maybe five years old. She was laying on the ground in a heap, the bristles and handle of a broomstick visible underneath her. Looking around the child, he saw its pointed hat not far from where it landed.

A witchling, he realised.

Quietly, he picked up the small hat and slowly walked toward the motionless, whimpering child. A branch snapped beneath his feet, and the pitiful little thing jumped to attention, scrambling to its feet and running off further into the woods, clearly favouring its left leg.

Cedric picked up the broomstick, tucked the hat under his arm, and pursued, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Wait", he called, his long, slender limbs easily outpacing the witchling. It hesitated, but made no attempt to face him.

Cedric supposed that it was a girl, judging from its long, dirty hair - caked so heavily in mud that the colour was indistinguishable in the dying rays of sunlight streaming through the trees. He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, but she was off again. Following closely behind, he pursued her for what must have been over half an hour, until she came to a ramshackle cottage, so old and uncared for that the east wall was completely caved in, the roof not far behind it.

The tiny girl disappeared inside, and Cedric stood for a moment, deciding if he should follow or merely leave her things at the door for her to find later. The building didn't look safe, at any rate, so he steeled himself and walked the path to the door.

Entering the home, he found it to be empty. He made his way to the broken wall - no easy task as debris and assorted objects cluttered most of the floor- and hazarded a peek out, thinking she'd evaded him by going back outside.

A sound behind him caught his attention, and he spun around just in time to catch the girl trying to scoot from her hiding spot under the table to make a break for the door. Stumbling only a little, he soon found himself blocking her escape. He crouched down to speak at her level, and to get a better look at the girl. She let out a low growl, but made no attempt to bypass him.

"I'm not going to hurt you", he did his best to reassure her.

Her gaze snapped to his face, and for the first time he saw the brilliant sapphire jewels that were her large eyes, their beauty almost jarring in contrast to her filthy face and hair. She wore a dress much too small for even her tiny frame, long sleeves ending midway between her elbows and wrists, instead of near her hands. He surmised that it must have been blue at one point, though he couldn't be certain. A chain around her neck disappeared down into the bodice, hiding well whatever it was that hung at the end of it.

"I-I brought your things", he explained, holding the broom and hat out to the child.

She made no attempt to take them. Nor did she speak to Cedric, her silence unsettling the sorcerer, though he tried to write it off as shyness. Or maybe she's been told not to talk to strangers, he reminded himself of the possibility.

"Where are your parents?"

She continued to remain motionless, those incredible eyes staring at him as if she were examining his very soul.

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and tried again. "Do you live here?" He was about to give up, but those hypnotising eyes kept him fixed in position, determined to find out something about this strange child.

She kept perfectly still, and no reply came.

"I can fix your leg", he stated.

Nothing.

It finally occurred to him that she may not speak English, so he tried the only other language that he knew, though he didn't speak it as well as his occupation should have called for. "Figere pedem tuum (Fix your foot)", he repeated, pointing down at her left leg.

Her eyes narrowed at him before she shifted to bring her injured appendage to the front of her.

Well, this was progress, at least.

He inched closer, noticing that she was without shoes, and her bare feet were nearly black with dirt. He retrieved his wand, and circled it anticlockwise before touching it to the girl.

She jerked back from the contact, but when the motion didn't cause pain, she looked down at her leg in surprise.

"See, all better", he offered, pausing to let her process the information. Her eyes were back on him, now.

"Mihi… (My...)" He faltered, trying to think of the rest of the sentence. "Mihi nomen Cedric (My name is Cedric)", he introduced himself, only half expecting her to give her name in return. With no idea what else to do, he rubbed his forehead in frustration before struggling to his feet. "Right, well, you're all better, and you have your hat and broom..." he stated, preparing to leave the cottage.

His eyes studied the bleak, crumbling structure, and his thoughts turned to the prince and princess at home, dressed in their finery, with food in their bellies and protection from the elements.

He stalled, giving a sigh and turning to study the small child again.

"Mater? (Mother?)"

He could almost swear she moved her head to the side slightly, as if to shake it, but it was growing dim quickly and he didn't know if he should trust his eyes.

"Pater? (Father?)"

There it was again. He struggled to remember his education. The words were in him somewhere, he just had to find them.

"Veni... mecum? (Come with me?)"

His face fell as once again she didn't react to him in the slightest.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving", he conceded, spinning around and walking to the door.

Just as his hand made contact, small, bare feet thudded across the floor behind him, closing the distance. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and he turned the knob, walking outside only to be followed by the strange girl.

"No- nolite timere (Don't be afraid)", he said, though he was pretty sure she wasn't going to appreciate his next action.

He slowly turned towards her, drawing his wand again and pointing it before she had another chance to take off into the woods. She disappeared into a puff of smoke, and he quickly turned the wand on himself.