Imagination

Imagination is one of the greatest powers in existence. It can give birth to great works of literature, create magnificent works of art and, for a child of the Edwardian era who impersonated a decent banneret who stood up to visionary adversaries, turn something as simple as a loving cup into the Holy Grail itself.

A week had passed since Captain Kull Smith had returned to Quebec Castle, museum of Egyptology and boarding school, with his new caracal Alexander and even know the year-old feline was investigating the loving cup while Captain Smith's mother Gudrun held it in her hands speaking to her elder grandson Alan Carter.

As a caracal, Alexander was a medium-sized feline with a robust build, long legs, a short face, long black tufted ears and long canine teeth. His coat was uniformly reddish-tan with the ventral parts being lighter with small reddish markings. As a male, he was twenty inches at the shoulder, forty-three inches in head-and-body length and had a bushy tail of thirteen inches. He originated from Egypt while his mate Roxana originated from India, but had been in the Herr Ludwig von Fell Circus before coming into the kinder ownership of Captain Smith. Alexander and Roxana were two of six quadruped mammals that Captain Smith owned, the other four being the wolf dog Cnut, the rough collie Emma and the American quarter horses Peter and Catherine. There were two great horned owls as well, Herod and Cleopatra by name, and at that very moment Cleopatra was sitting upon the headboard of Nana Smith's bed.

"I remember how you would use this as the Holy Grail, Alan." Nana Smith said. She was a seventy-four-year-old woman, half-Cayuga and half-Irish, lean with the color gone from her hair. "Champion to Gemma, seeker of the Holy Grail, Knight of King Arthur… Or were you a Paladin of Charles the Great? Dear me, I cannot remember."

"It varied depending on the day, Nana." Uttered Alan, looking at the loving cup, his voice rich and smooth. At sixteen years old, the days of impersonating a decent banneret were behind Alan. His skin was ruddy, his red hair short and curly and, as he had heterochromia, his eyes were mismatched with the left being blue and the right green. He was as lean and hungry as Shakespeare's portrayal of Gaius Cassius Longinus, stood at a height of five feet and five inches and his was nose hooked and his jaw square, both features inherited his father, since killed at the Actions of St Eloi Craters earlier that year. His usual attire consisted of a white shirt, black trousers and shoes and a red blazer and thus was he garbed. "Would that this thing could heal you as the real Holy Grail could."

Alexander immediately looked to his master's elder nephew. There was a curious look in his eyes as he wondered, where the real Holy Grail might be. Did it look as this did? Could this humble loving cup not be the real Holy Grail? How was anyone to know if it was not? To a creature such as he, it might as well have been this fabled thing that his master's nephew and mother spoke of.

Nana Smith understood what her grandson was speaking of. Placing a hand upon Alan's, she said: "Alan, there is nothing that lives that does not ultimately die. Your uncle may wish that I will live, but we all know there is nothing that can be done. I will die this very year and I will be with your father, mother, aunt and grandfather, but we will all be with you." With her other hand, Nana Smith then stroked Alexander's back, saying: "Would that I could have more time with you, Alexander. Alas, your story at Quebec Castle begins just as the story of my life draws to a close. I will look out for you as well as Alan and Darius will be with me."