13 May 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

She is safe, thank the heavens! At least we are pretty sure of it. The execution was set for yesterday. The treacherous Regent had made a public spectacle of it all - the killing of her own daughter. She must know! None of Lady Wordsworth's charms worked on people of import, so it fell on me to improvise at the last moments. Calling upon the furthest inklings of knowledge I have gleaned these past few years, I somehow managed to apport the headsman's axe into hiding, then immediately crafted an illusion that I manipulated to the best of my meagre abilities. He believed he still had the axe in hand. Out of nowhere the Black Fox arrived to save the queen, but I twisted the illusion so that the headsman, and many in the crowd, believed the both the Black Fox and "Trinia" were killed there. Meanwhile the real, and very living, Black Fox spirited off the beautiful Victoria into the mass of London. My companions suspect I did something, but none of them have questioned me about it. They are confused over the multiple images that appeared there, but all of them are relieved that she escaped, and that the future of England is still alive. Where she, and the Black Fox, might be we do not know. What we do know is that our fates our destined to intertwine again.