15th September, 1793

     Today I was accepted as a researcher at the Smythe-St Blackadder  Research Institute in Wales.  Father says I'm very lucky, but I wonder.  It doesn't seem coincidence that Brenin Rook is the head of it and is our next door neighbor at the same time.  Of course, father also says that it makes sense; I'm more interested in the Institute because I'm from Roadford and he's from Roadford, and I suppose I agree with that logic.

    At any rate, I've begun packing only to discover that I don't have much I want to take with me.  All of the books I count as most beloved belong to father's library.  (He's promised to send me anything I ask for.)  I'll have two sets of the Institute uniform once I get there, so I've no want for clothing.  I've packed a scarf and jumper for winter, and mum's old knitted hat.  I've no real idea what the weather is like in Wales, but I've read that it's quite similar to Britannia.

    I do intend to work hard at this Institute.  It's been seven years since I saw that fairy boy in the woods, and I will prove to everyone else that they exist.  Magic is real.  Fairies are real.  I believe we can be unified and live in harmony.

    But for now, I go to make tricks in far off lands.  When next I write, may it be of wonderment and surprise and not a little real live trickery.