-FANTASY AUTHOR-
C.J. PIATTI
In the Sorcerers' Society
A young sorcerer, Iberfoil, gets kicked out of the Ananzia School of Sorcery for stealing some forbidden books and goes on a journey trying to make himself a powerful sorcerer on his own.
The young sorcerer, along with a few friends and some alchemists overthrow the king of their magical land of Batavia. After that success the wage war against the non magical land of Watopia.
The SeaSouls, a group of people that despise magic, try to rid the world of magic and replace it with science and are in constant conflict with the sorcerers.
Chapter #1
Enchanted Days, Exotic Evenings
“Iberfoil,” called out Calimor, as the young scholarly
sorcerers were leaving the school grounds of Ananzia, after
their days classes. “Are you going to The Pub Down the Lane
tonight?”
“Sure, it’s Friday. It’s not like I’m going to spend the
evening in, studying the history of sorcery or some other
scholarly nonsense. I’ll be at the pub with everyone else.”
“But, you’ll be ten times as loud as everyone else.”
“No doubt.”
They both laughed heartily, such laughter as only the end
of a school day can bring.
“Do you want to come over to my quarters for a few
goblets of ale first?” asked Calimor.
“Sure, I don’t mind showing up to the pub already fully
animated,” laughed Iberfoil. “Do you have some ale at your
abode?”
“You need to ask?”
“Right you are. That brew you make is fair enough,
especially in conjunction with the summer sun herb,” said
Iberfoil, pulling out a pipe and proceeding to load it with
a charge of the green herb.
“Iberfoil, have you lost your wits! You should at least
wait until we get off school grounds before you light up.
You can get expelled for that. You are living dangerously
and if you don’t change your ways it is sure as a
sorcerer's secret to come to no good.”
“A brilliant mind like mine can not be held captive in
the intellectual doldrum that is the Ananzia School of
Magic. I’m afraid even my vast intellect has need for a
release, every now and again,” sneered the young sorcerer,
casually pushing his long black bangs that had blown over
his eyes.
“If you smoke enough of that stuff your mind will be
released alright, never to return.”
“So I take it that means you don’t want any,” laughed
Iberfoil, extending the pipe to his friend.
Calimor said nothing, but with a large smile accepted the
pipe, took a few pulls and then passed the pipe back. The
well manicured grounds of the school now gave way abruptly
into the full fledged forest that surrounded Ananzia. With
the exception of the cobblestone path, nature was allowed
to run its course. The path somehow gave a sense of
security to Calimor, which was good for him because smoking
the summer sun weed sometimes made Calimor paranoid and
hallucinate that he was being chased around by rebgient
beasts.
The rebgient beasts were saber-tooth tiger like creatures, but with longer, matted black hair. Their ferocious fangs were similar in size to that of the saber-toothed tiger.
It's five inch retractable claws were particularly
troublesome to anyone with a modicum of self-preservation.
The beasts normally never left the forest, but lately
times had been anything but normal. The only circumstances
that caused them to leave the forest was when they were
captured and taken to the amphitheatre for fights. When the
amphitheatre held rebgient fight nights people from the
surrounding cities came to place substantial bets on the
fights. It was becoming a gradual extinction for the
vicious beasts.
The coble stone path led all the way to the Magma Hall
boys quarters and the Lakeside Hall girls quarters. Magma
Hall was one of the most lavish places Iberfoil had ever
taken up residence in. And he had been the guest in many of
Batavia’s Duke and Duchesses castles in his sixteen years.
Although the rooms were smaller in size, in opulence it was
unsurpassed. Only the wealthiest of sorcering families
could send their kids to the illustrious institution. The
well kept grounds were a marvel to behold, with the
shrubbery precisely cut into the forms of animals and
famous sorcerers from bygone eras.
“You know Talya, the girl I was telling you about in my
Principles of Magic class, I asked her to go to the Autumn
Harvest Dance next month,” said Calimor, anxiously waiting
for Iberfoil’s response.
“I think you can find a more suitable and principled girl
than that,” retorted Iberfoil, his voice suddenly assuming
an elitist accent, not wanting his friend to be dating when
he wasn’t. His only thoughts were for himself. Not wanting
to lose a drinking buddy.
“She’s a fine girl and if we see her at the pub tonight,
I won’t tolerate you berating her.”
“Sure, sure. That's fine with me. If she’s a friend of
yours, she’s a friend of mine,” said Iberfoil, nonchalantly.
“Then all is well. There is no reason this needs to
effect our drinking buddy status.”
Iberfoil said nothing, but he knew Calimor wouldn’t have
as much time for ale, lazy days spent talking about
philosophy, enjoying the summer sun weed and above all a
desire to become a first rate sorcerer if thing got serious
with Talya. Besides, summer sun weed made Calimor less
argumentative and anxious. With the added benefit of making
him more impressionable.
Iberfoil and Calimor always took a shortcut through the
Sagegrove forest to their quarters even though it was rife
with robbers. Some of the thieves were from the nearby
farming village of Grazland, that had fallen on hard times
recently because of a season of low rainfall. Others had
fallen on hard times due to exorbitant taxes. The robbers
were drawn to the area to steal the students pocket money,
as most of the sorcery scholars were from noble families.
On more than one occasion Iberfoil and Calimor had
humiliated these robbers by beating them senseless and then
tying them to a tree like dogs.
Things gradually grew more extreme in nature with
the way Iberfoil handled the robbers. Calimor despised the
robbers himself, but he was repulsed by the dishonorable
retribution, torturing and the use of poisons his friend
sadistically submitted the down and outers to.
“Remember the time when…” Calimor was saying before he
was rudely interrupted.
“Alright spoiled lads it's time to share the wealth,”
said the larger of the two middle aged men approaching them.
“You old slobs think you can rob us, with only those
sticks as weapons,” jeered Iberfoil, smirking and
unperturbed.
“We’ll give you lads an extra licking for acting all
disrespectful like to your elders. A quarter staff in the
hands of the right man is lethal,” insisted the other
robber, apparently as unperturbed as Iberfoil.
“We’d like to stick around and fight it out with you
gentlemen, but we have some previous engagements. We’re
going to be drinking our ale in a respectable establishment
tonight and we won’t allow our fine garb to be sullied by
the likes of you sods,” mocked Iberfoil.
Iberfoil then pulled a wand out of his back pocket and
started talking in a language that no one else, including
Calimor, understood. And then, quicker than a spooked cat,
the two robbers now had gigantic lizard tails and each had
nest of large, orange spiders crawling all over them.
“Please sir, have a heart. Return us to our natural
selves,” pleaded the larger robber, who could barely be
understood through his sobbing.
“We promise to never return to this forest again,” cried
out the smaller robber, trying hopelessly to get the
spiders off himself.
“I’m afraid I don’t recall the counteraction spell,”
replied Iberfoil, laughing out of control.
“Come on, return the farmers to their natural forms,
unlike these lost souls we have principles and this
situation will attack our conscience if we do the wrong
thing. We won’t be able to enjoy ourselves tonight, knowing
the plight of these ner-do-wells,” whispered Calimor, so as
not to be heard by the robbers.
“Oh, I suppose your right,” replied Iberfoil nonchalantly, and recited the appropriate incantation while raising his wand.
“Run along scoundrels, before I changed my mind.”
“Thank you sir and we’ll keep our promise never to return
to this forest again,” said the larger robber, as they
quickly tried to get as much distance between themselves
and the young sorcerers as possible.
“What book did you get that magical knowledge from?”
asked Calimor.
“I fear I’m not at liberty to say, just yet.”
The reason Iberfoil wasn’t at liberty to say where his
wisdom came from was that he wasn’t suppose to be privy
to the deviant knowledge. He wanted to be assured that
Calimor would keep the secret. Although he doubted he had
the restraint to keep the content of his secret to himself.
The books he had stolen to get this dark, magical wisdom,
were from the Head Sorcerer Sage’s personal library. Many
of the books the Head Sorcerer Sage himself had not read,
fearing it might corrupt him. Iberfoil, for the last year
or so had been breaking into the Head Sorcerer Sage’s
personal library and taking one book at a time, so as to be
unnoticed. When he was alone in his quarters he would read
the book from cover to cover and write the most interesting
parts down in a leather bound notebook and return the book.
If the book happened to be chalk full of noteworthy
information he would commandeer the whole book.
“You know what Calimor, we should stop at Gildigold’s
shop for some whiskey on the way back to Magma hall,” said
Iberfoil.
“Ah, so it’s going to be one of those evenings is it,”
Calimor replied, laughing.
“Yes indeed, an evening of music, much drinking, displays
of mystical powers and an over abundance of frivolity.”
Gildigold was the only shopkeeper brave enough to set up
shop in the Sagegrove forest. He did have the protective
help of his vicious dog Bullroar, a mixture of pit but,
rebgient beast and wolf, which was bread for violence only,
it was under his complete control. And, on more than one
occasion the shopkeeper had the opportunity to practice the
ancient art of martukka fighting. It combined hand strikes,
kicking and a magical momentum. The shopkeeper was a grand
master of this technique and any unlucky want to be robber
would not stand a chance. Not to mention the storekeeper
was one of the few people that had the ability to channel
the rebgient beasts.
The wooden structure of the store wasn’t as elaborate as
the stone or brick stores in town, but it somehow
maintained an ambience of formal luxury. A timber-framed,
jettying wonder to the eyes.
“Wow, have a look at this,” called out Iberfoil to
Calimor, as he spotted a meerschaum summer sun pipe in the
shopkeepers premium display case. Although summer sun was
against the law in all the lands of Batavia, shopkeepers
always managed to get away with selling the paraphernalia.
“That’s quite the pipe,” agreed Calimor of the meerschaum
pipe, admiring the intricate carving of a dragons head.
“How much do you want for this?” asked Iberfoil.
“Five gold gillions,” was Gildigold's terse response.
“Alright, we’ll take this and a gallon of twelve year old
single malt whiskey.”
“Here you go lads, a bottle of Dragon Spirits, the finest
firewater Batavia has to offer,” said the shopkeeper,
placing a dusty, dark brown whiskey bottle on the counter,
and started to wrap up the pipe.
“There's no need to wrap that,” said Iberfoil, throwing
some coins on the counter.
“Thanks laddie. Keep out of trouble,” said Gildigold,
with a wink of his eye.
When they were a ways down the path on their way to Magma
Hall, Iberfoil removed the red wax seal and pulled the cork
out of the whiskey bottle. “Let’s have a bit of a taste, to
make sure this stuff is on the up and up.”
They both took large sips.
“Seems like the good stuff to me. This product must of
been aging in an oak cask for at least ten years,” Calimor
declared.
“I’ve had much better, but this stuff will do the trick,”
replied Iberfoil, as he took another sip.
By the time they reached Calimor’s quarters, Iberfoil had
all but forgotten their encounter in the forest. But
Calimor hadn’t, he was growing distressed over Iberfoil’s
lack of conscience and was quite sure if he hadn’t been
along with him in the forest he would of left the two
robbers to live the rest of their unfortunate lives with
lizard tails and covered in spiders. When Iberfoil and
Calimor were young lads Iberfoil had had more compassion.
He had never had any hesitation to help an impoverished
person. Doling out coins to just about anyone that asked
him for spare change.
“Remember the old day’s Iberfoil, when we always had an
abundance of free time. The only thing we ever had on our
minds schedule was ale drinking and summer sun smoking,
girls and parties. Nowadays our time seems over scheduled,
always seeming to revolve around our studies, taking odd
jobs to save for buying our own abodes and other mundane
preparations for the future. I'm afraid our live have
become a tedious rut of routines.”
“Yes indeed, my father use to always say that routines
make one righteous. He is a silly old man. But not to worry, our good old days will return. One day we shall run our own empire and we’ll have people to take care of all our menial task’s for us, while we do as thou wilt.”
Perhaps, thought Calimor, but it only took a few moments
before any convictions of that nature disappeared.
When they approached the courtyard of Magma Hall they
recognized the person sitting by the pond near the
buildings entrance, quaffing a goblet of ale, his old
school, long red beard shinning in the summer sun. His name
was Kurtz and although he was two years older than Iberfoil
and Calimor he was well respected around Ananzia.
“Are you guys going to the Pub Down the Lane tonight?”
asked Kurtz, a friend of both Iberfoil and Calimor.
“Sure we are. Care to join Iberfoil and me in my quarters
for a few drinks before hand.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Kurtz was quick to
retort, and they made their way to Calimor’s quarters.
“What time do you lads want to leave for the pub?” asked
Calimor, while pouring their fourth pint from his keg of
honey ale homebrew.
“Does thou knowest the time?” asked Iberfoil.
Calimor went to his window to check his brass sundial on
the window ledge. “It’s only six thirty.”
“We shall leave about eightish then,” insisted Iberfoil.
“Sounds good to me,” was Calimor's laze-a-fare response
as he took another pull of his ale. "Whatever happened to
that girl Veronica you use to court?”
“Her father married her off to a second rate prince,”
said Iberfoil, grimacing. “I wish fathers would have the
good sense to stay out of their daughters love lives.”
“Yes indeed, so many of our best bards have written books
on love lost at the hands of an overbearing father, but
still they persist,” jeered Calimor, now wishing he hadn’t
brought up the topic.
“I haven’t given up on a married life though,” said
Iberfoil. “After I graduate and become a sage for King
George there will plenty of ladies desiring to spend their
days in my company.”
“Sure enough, if you’re a sage for the King of all Batavia, women will be the last of your worries. Keeping
your head will be your first priority. Mark my words, envy
will make you many bitter enemies. Ready to leave for the
pub.”
“Ready, willing and able. Let’s just walk though, it’s
such a nice night and it always looks so pretentious
entering town in a carriage,” insisted Iberfoil, but the
real reason he didn’t really want to take a carriage was
that he didn’t have much money, but he didn’t want to admit
it.
“Right you are,” agreed Calimor, finishing of the last of
his goblet of ale.
They all did a shot of spiced whiskey.
Iberfoil didn’t hesitate to light up his new meerschaum
pipe as soon as they left the confines of Magma Hall.
Calimor and Kurtz didn’t refuse the pipe when passed to
them, but they didn’t take as many pulls as Iberfoil did.
They double timed it through the forest and were in town in
record time.
“Wow! Look how busy the brew house is tonight,” declared
Calimor. “The place is ablaze with enough candles to rival
a castle.”
“Yeah,” said a surprised Iberfoil. “We definitely won’t
be getting a table inside tonight. It’s the patio for us
lads.”
“Maybe Talya came early and is holding a table for us,”
said Calimor.
Iberfoil shot him an uneasy grimace. Shortly after they
entered the pub Calimor spotted Talya waving her hands to
get his attention from a table in the corner. She was
accompanied by her beautiful friend Melody. Iberfoil
couldn’t keep his eyes off Talya’s girlfriend, which didn’t
go unnoticed by anyone.
In Calimor’s books she was by far the most beautiful girl
in the school. Golden skin, large eyes, chestnut brown hair
and most important of all, a constant smile. And it was
true, he had to admit, that he was overwhelmed by her
beauty, but at the time he was able to make Ceff see things
my way. Iberfoil tried, unsuccessfully, to impress Melody
with some card tricks.
All was going well until an oaf that Iberfoil recognized
as a fourth year student, one year ahead of him, slapped
Melodie’s behind. Melody in turn, slapped the unsavory
character harshly across the face.
“I think you owe the lady an apology,” said Iberfoil, who
was never one to fear a fight.
“And I think you need to mind your own business,”
retorted the dimwitted oaf, stepping forward, obviously
looking for a fight.
“If you apologize to the lady I’ll allow you to walk home
of your own accord this evening,” said Iberfoil. “Otherwise
you friends will be carrying you back to campus.”
“You have a lot of nerve for a third year,” snickered the
fool, looking down at Iberfoil, trying to intimidate him
with his few inches of height differential. But little did
the lame brain know that Iberfoil could take on a group of
ten men larger than him.
A group of people passionately broke into a drinking song. Then the drunken fool used the ruckus to try to sucker hit Iberfoil with his ale goblet. Iberfoil decided not to be gentle with this idiot and smashed his face off his kneecap and then broke his arm. A bouncer threw the drunken lout out the pubs front door, to fend for himself, telling him not to show his face in the pub for the rest of the year. Melody, when she overcame the initial shock, courtesly paid for Iberfoil’s drinks for the rest of the evening.
Calimor and Talya spent the rest of the evening dancing
and Iberfoil and Melody spent it getting to know each other
on the patio.
Normally Calimor and Iberfoil would have walked home from
the pub, but as Melody was from a noble family they took a
carriage back to Ananzia.
“Thank you for the ride home,” said a genuinely grateful
Iberfoil, giving a formal bow.
“It’s the least I can do, thanks for putting that thug in
his place,” said Melody.
“It was my honor. Would you like to join us for dinner
tomorrow tonight?” asked Iberfoil.
“Sure, I’d like that,” said Melody. “Shall we pick you
gentlemen up in the Magma Hall courtyard around five.”
“That would be grand,” replied Iberfoil. "It'll be a
night to remember."
“I guess this is our stop,” said Calimor, as the road
branched, one for Magma Hall and one for Lakeside Hall.
“We can take you the rest of the way,” Melody insisted.
“This is fine, some fresh air before we retire will do us
good,” assured Iberfoil.
“We wish you ladies safe passage to Lakeside Hall,” said
Kurtz, as he bowed.
Calimor and Iberfoil gave their respective others a kiss
on the cheek.
“Farwell gentlemen and thanks for a good evening,” said
Talya.
Iberfoil, Calimor and Kurtz walked the rest of the way to
their quarters.
“Why do you suppose Melody wasn’t forthcoming with her
family’s background?” asked Iberfoil.
“There has been no wrong doing in her families past, if
that’s what you mean. They are of unquestionable noble
lineage. But if she were to divulge that information in a
public house and was overheard she would be availing
herself of men wanting a false courtship, robbery or even
kidnapping. You seem to really like Melody,” Calimor
ventured.
“Yes indeed. She is like no other girl I've met before.
Sure, ale and summer sun have a way of making girls look
prettier and act fairer. But this was no drunken delusion.
She was beautiful beyond belief, and her good humor is
contagious. Her wit has me wondering about a whole myriad
of fanciful possibilities.”
Calimor thought to himself, she may be sweet enough to
make Iberfoil set aside his career ambitions. Pacify his
penchant for power. In the past, Iberfoil had always thought that marriage was for later. One thing Calimor felt
certain of, life was going to be very different from now on.
The Wizard’s Roman Revolution Chapter #1 Wayward Wizards Enter Rome It was in the early hours, on one of the summers sunniest days of 63 A.D. when a large group wizards made their way into Rome. Their piercing, luminescent, purple eyes transfixed anyone who beheld them. Anyone who spoke derogatorily to a wizard or even gave a wizard a contemptuous look would immediately start convulsing, let out a hideous cry and then became a pile of smoking ashes. They were all on white horses, except for the wizard in the lead, his mount was a black horse, armored in an intricate array of bronze shielding adorned with symbols they had never saw before. The sheen from the bronze was almost blinding at the right angle from the suns inflection. Most of Rome’s citizens had never saw a wizard before, so the magical miscreants were a sight to behold as the only people the citizens of Rome were use to seeing with beards were philosophers, who wore much shorter beards. None of the many of Rome’s citizens, that were out of doors, could have guessed the degree to which these wizards would change their empire. “The wonders we can work with an empire such as this,” bemused the wizard on the black horse, apparently without regard to who could overhear him. “Yes indeed, this empire looks like it has even more to offer than China did,” said another wizard, smiling at a beautiful working lady in a blond wig. Later, on that very same day the wizards strolled into Rome, they didn’t waste any time letting Rome’s citizens know that they considered themselves accountable to no one, and above ever last citizen of Rome, including the emperor. The men of magic broke into groups and made their way around Rome’s public houses, transfixing the citizens with their tales of war faring triumphs all around the world. There were also many fantastical displays of magic, once the wizards had a few goblets of wine in them. The wizards wore brightly colored cloaks of the finest linen, ornamented by precious stones. The stones weren’t merely ornaments though, they were stones that had been charged with energy and magic. Some stones were to increase physic power and all the wizards wore many quartz stones for power. The wizards large leather boots were a stark contrast to the citizens and slaves sandals. Rome’s citizens were warned that if they wore similar cloaks to impersonate wizards, they would be arrested, humiliated in a public square and then killed for dressing out of their league. The wizards had sought to keep power at first by paying off and corrupting the emperor and his senators. When that didn’t work the threat of death was used. But word came that the emperor and his senate were unwilling to give up the power they had fought so hard for. It wasn’t long before the wizards had confiscated the imperial residences on Palatine Hill, with its beautiful vistas. It was done in a violent overthrowing, involving the deaths of many of Rome's elite. A few of the senators were hung in the market place as a warning not to speak out in regard to the abode appropriation. The wizards put some custom touches on the villas, including turrets and flags to denote their magical lineage. Black flags were the most prestigious, showing that the wizard had a magical lineage greater than twenty generations, gold flags denoted a magical lineage of greater than ten generations, silver flags denoted a magical lineage of greater than five generations. All of the flags contained the wizards coat of arms. This was comprised of two unicorns on their hind legs and a shield covered with a multitude of the wizard's symbols. Every last senator, and even the Emperor Nero, had been unceremoniously vacated from their abodes on Palatine Hill. A few senators tried to put up a fight and were set ablaze by the wizards wands. The wizards didn’t waste any time confiscating the villas of wealthy merchants. Next to be confiscated were the penthouses of apartment complexes. The penthouses were on the bottom floor so the wealthy owners didn’t have to walk up the stairs and so they were able to have running water. It wasn't long before the wizard grand masters got to excessive wine drinking. The alcohol and lead in the wine did an extreme disservice to the wizards magical abilities. The increasingly crazed and arrogant fools didn’t even have the humility to dilute their wine with water, as was the custom among Rome’s more respectable citizens. The drunken wizards set Nero free, apparently a game of theirs to see what he would do. That’s when the wizards began their campaign of magical terror. At first the emperor had tried to rally his citizens against the wizards, after so many of his soldiers had fallen, but it was unfruitful. The citizens were thoroughly fed up with their oppressed lives. It wasn’t long before stories of the wizards treacherous and arrogant ways made their way through the social structure of Rome, first to the public houses, public bathes and marketplaces and eventually to the excommunicated Nero himself. And the Emperor Nero, always wanting to crush the ambition of his citizens, set forth his army out to capture every last wizard. That was when things got outrageous. Reports of legion after legion of the finest Roman soldiers being captured and forced to swear allegiance to the wizards or being obliterated for all to see, made their way back to Nero, who was now in hiding in Athens. The soldiers had only been able to kill two wizards, a couple of the more creative soldiers found that fire was the only way to kill the wizards without using magic. Rome’s citizens were being seduced into a new age by the wizards, and were anxious to see the emperor and his senators pay for their corrupt and oppressive ways. The emperor and his senators had sent out messages, to the furthest reaches of the empire, in hopes of rallying old allies to help them thwart the wizards, but their requests fell on deaf ears, for their arrogance and heavy taxation had made their old allies contemptuous toward them. After the wizards had established complete control over Rome they had began living a reclusive life for a while, perhaps to do some planning, perhaps to let things settle with the citizens for a while, perhaps they just wanted to rest. But now they came back with an even greater ferocity, they wanted fame, respect, and above all else they wanted to fill their coffers. As it was money that bought them palpable power the wizards took over all of Rome's apothecary shops and forced the apothecaries to make magical potions and only make medical potions when time permitted. It was money that bought supplies to make the potions, which in turn was how they kept their mastery over the masses. The unexpected event of the wizards taking over gave the citizens of Rome a new vigor, put an extra bounce in their sandals steps. Now they would now have the time and money, as the wizards promised to reduce taxes and to reduce the workweek to four days, so the citizens could enjoy the grandiose empire that was Rome. The Wizard Grand Masters began forcing the apprenticing wizards, when they didn’t agree with their ideology, along with the slaves and criminals to fight lions, dragons and pretty much any other violent creature they could get their hands on, in the Amphitheatre of Statilus Taurus. The slaves, criminals, artists and regular citizen class wore very different fashions and drank in different public houses. Little did they know that in a time to come they would have to come together in a common cause. To rid the Roman Empire, therefore the entire known world of the wizards oppression. The young playwright Prelore was wise enough not to heed to politics as a habit, as he knew it was beneficial to save his finite intellectual energies for his play writing. But, non the less, some exposure to politics was unavoidable. After his dinner Prelore made his way to a local pub, The Sword Smith and Shield Master. The establishment was on the upscale side of things and mostly frequented by artists as the owner allowed them to sell their wares there. Upon approaching the pub he saw a public servant out front of the pub nailing up a large wooden decree. Its very length more than hinted at a rendering of human rights. “What news do you bring?” asked Prelore. “It’s the wizards decree, they want all of Rome’s citizens to know that they have overthrown the emperor and his senators. From now on Rome's rules and regulations will be set forth by them only. They want everyone to come to the Amphitheatre of Statilus Taurus this Friday, for a collective celebration. They’re going to give out grants for artists then. They also want to present their plans for the new Rome, which includes decreasing taxes for everyone in Rome and increasing the taxes for everyone outside the city limits. Taxes for artists are to be abolished,” said the public servant, with a tone of apprehension. “Wow, I had heard that the wizards were planning to take over the whole of Rome, but I never thought they would be able to pull it off,” said Prelore, his countenance not hiding his astonishment. “I don’t think anyone did, but it has come to pass,” said the public servant, with a smile and gleam in his eyes. “They can’t do a worse job of running things than Nero and his senators have done.” “Right you are. Good evening to you sir,” replied the public servant, acknowledging Prelore’s fine, artist garb with a deep bow. Prelore made his way into the pub and found that his friends Trecor, Maxis and their girlfriends, Octavia, Gwendolyn and Prelore’s girlfriend Tanest had secured a thoughtful table by the fire. “Well Prelore, you finally managed to take some time away from your writing to join us,” said Maxis. “Being a wordsmith takes up more time to fill the coffers than being a painter. But, I’m not worried, soon my plays will be shown in all of Rome’s amphitheatres and I’ll have an abundance of free time. Have you received any new painting commissions?” asked Prelore. “Indeed, I just received a commission to paint the daughter of one of the new wizard senators. She has agreed to a sitting next Wednesday. She said she is willing to do a nude, but I told her I had something else in mind. The last thing I need is a pissed off sorcerer barking up my tree. He has promised a payment of a thousand gold coins and has given me ten gold coins upfront. But what import does money serve, it is but a servant to disingenuous means. It so often becomes an unyielding urning, a burden that enslaves us into a life robed of true joy. A joy that revives the countenance and refines sustenance,” said Maxis, trying to look unperturbed. “The meads on you tonight then,” laughed Octavia. “Sure, I can manage that. My credit is always good here,” said Maxis. “It’s hard to believe it took centuries to build Rome up to its present state and it just took the wizards a mere week to take it over. That my friends is true power,” said Trecor. “There a bit stifling if you ask me, my play at the Lions End this Friday will be cancelled because of the meeting the wizards have called. I take it you’re all going to the meeting?” asked Prelore. “Sure, we’re all going. Our futures have been promised to be wide open and we want the details,” said Maxis. “Especially about abolishing taxes on artists!” exclaimed Trecor. They all laughed and clinked their goblets together in merry solidarity. “Here’s to us delving into our new lifestyles,” called out the giddy Gwendolyn. “Yes indeed, the wizards have promised to make artists even more senior members of society just when we thought we were doomed to be puppets of Nero's regime,” said Maxis. “And we'll all have our own reserved seats in all of Rome’s amphitheatres,” said Gwendolyn. “With the wizards grants we’ll be able to achieve so much, without having to venture out into the workaday world,” said Prelore. “Things will never be the same again. That’s for sure. Have any of you guys met any of these wizards yet?” asked Trecor. “Maxis met one in a pub and he went back to his place to see his paintings and bought one on the spot,” said Octavia. “I heard the wizards have promised all artists villas,” offered Prelore. “Yes, indeed they have, but not all artists, only the ones that have already achieved a measure of success,” retorted Trecor. “We should all get villas by the amphitheatre, they have the best pubs, and being in walking distance to the amphitheatre would be amazing. Gwendolyn and I went looking at some today, they have running water and everything,” said Octavia. “Are you going to sell your villa in the country and get one in Rome, Maxis?” asked Prelore. “I’m haven't decided yet, I like the country remoteness of Varisci at times,” said Maxis. “But if I can get a really choice villa by the amphitheatre at a reasonable price, I’d be all for it.” “There’s a villa that I think would be perfect for us. Shall I book an appointment with a broker to show it to you?” asked Tanest, Prelores headstrong girlfriend. “Sure, let’s do it,” Prelore said. “You don’t seem very enthusiastic Maxis. What gives?” asked Octavia. “Well it wouldn’t be the first time a politician made promises he didn’t keep. And wizard politicians nonetheless, seeing is believing as they say,” said Maxis. “What’s the head wizards name again? It’s so out of the ordinary and awkward to remember?” asked Tanest. “Zenicorus,” said Maxis and then he leaned forward and then lowered his voice to a half whisper, although the fracas in the pub didn’t require it. “He’s the one that led the wizards to a victorious win over Rome’s finest soldiers. I heard for entertainment they turned the soldiers they captured into wolves, lions and hideous dragons and then made them fight each other to the death. These wizards are some seriously disturbed individuals. We have to keep our wits about us and not let the wool be pulled over our eyes.” “On a more cheerful note, I have an announcement to make,” said Tanest, hitting her empty mead goblet on the table to gather everyone's attention. “I have been asked to sing at the wizards opening ceremony.” “That’s great, my lady,” said Prelore. “How did the wizards come to know of you?” “The letter, that arrived this morning said that a wizard named Zafor, saw me perform at The Lamenting Lion and was transfixed by my voice. They said I can choose four songs of my choice,” said Tanest. “But they did say that songs of vigor and triumph would be preferable. Rome’s citizens have lived in doldrum for long enough, he wants to ensure everyone that things are going to change dramatically for the better.” The next day Prelore and Tanest met a broker at the Sword Smith and Shield Master mead house. The broker that wore an elegant stolla pushed eight pages of parchment across the table. Each had an artists sketch of the dwelling and its grounds as well as specification particulars. “Which one is closest to the Amphitheatre of Statilus Taurus?” asked Tanest. “This one, on Theatre Lane. It’s also the largest,” said the broker. “Let’s start with that one then,” suggested Prelore. When they finished their mead they made the twenty minute walk through the markets and then the residential areas. “This villa comes with around the day security, as you can see. I’m afraid thieves favor these upscale abodes, but not to worry, you’ll be safe under the guards watch,” said the broker. The Roman guard was hard not to notice, dressed in full uniform, including a centurion helmet. The broker proffered her broker’s medallion necklace. “You are expected my lady,” said the guard to the broker and stepped away from the entranceway to let them in. “The villa has running water in both the kitchen and the bathroom. It also has the finest white marble flooring available and a marble bath as well,” said the broker. “It's very spacious with five bedrooms. We still have yet to see the villa’s most prominent feature.” With that they made their way out to the backyard. They were met by the most fabulous garden either of them had seen. It had a vast variety of flowers. At the center of the garden was a cobbled patio with a fountain in the middle. “This garden courtyard is perfect for entertaining large groups of people,” said the broker. "It also has a vegetable and herb garden at the back of the yard there." “This place would be adequate. It must get noisy at times though, being so close to the amphitheatre. But we could get use to it, I suppose,” said Tanest, trying not to seem like a motivated buyer. She then talked Prelore into putting a down payment on the property to secure it from other prospective buyers. Later that day Tanest met Octavia at the marketplace by the amphitheatre and found out she and Maxis had also put a down payment on a villa on Theatre Lane. Within a week they both had secured the villa they wanted on Theatre Lane. “Our broker said we could move in as soon as we want,” said Maxis. “So did ours,” said Tanest. “We should move in on the same day, that way we can share a rental cart to move our belongings,” said Prelore. “We should have a look soon or all the villas on Theatre Lane will be bought up,” said Gwendolyn to Trecor. “Don’t you think we should wait and see what the artists grants amount to first?” asked Trecor. “I heard they will be ten thousand gold coins,” said Maxis. “That will be enough to pay the bills, even for a mere actor,” said Trecor, who truth be told, felt demeaned by being an actor in Prelore’s plays. “We should go shopping for some clothes for the big night tomorrow,” said Tanest, to the girls. “Sure, I could use a new stola and I don’t have any engagements tomorrow,” said Gwendolyn. “Me neither,” said Octavia. “You gents better not wait till the last minute.” “Right you are. What do you gents say to Thursday?” asked Trecor. “Sounds good to me,” said Maxis, “and I’m feeling generous with the money I’ve made from my painting, so I’ll rent us a carriage for us gents and the ladies to do our shopping.” When the artists were clothes shopping they noticed some of the marketplaces shopkeepers had began selling books on magic. The wizards moved quick to have this practice banned, as magic was the only power the wizards had over Rome’s citizens. The shopkeepers that were selling the books shops were shut down and the shopkeepers themselves were never seen again. Luckily Prelore had managed to buy some of the books, before they were confiscated and banned.