The Struggles

After a brief two-year struggle, the new Magister Lords have established their rule and are now working on their new system. But is there more then unrest and uprisings happening in the capitol, Vastrom?

". . . .as well as unrest and rumors of uprisings here in Vastrom. Nothing else to report, Advocate Falcain. May the rule of the Magisters be honest and just." Derrick said the formal words which signified the end of the meeting, forcing himself to stay standing until he could leave.

"Lord Derrick Keane, Philosopher and High-class Instructor of Magic, Advocate for Jonathon Pelastor and the Council of Magisters, you are dismissed to your duties. Thank you for your report." Soren Falcian, now cheif advisor to Jon and the Council,  replied in the now usual way. Only Jon and Derrick saw the amusement in his eyes as he recited Derrick's new title.

Derrick sighed with relief and left, muttering to himself about how pompous tradition was as he made his way to the gate where a groom waited with his horse.

Too bad he couldn't mention the real problems in the Council Hall. Like the recent vandalism of the Magic Academy's newest building, the new boldness the Underground Mages were showing, or the fact that no one had heard from Gwendolyn, her (among other things) loyal guardian, or that annoying bobcat for over two months.

Derrick rode fast, slowing down as he reached the forum an hour later. Much his surprise and charign, he found himself almost well-received as the first Advocate for the Lords, his connections to the Underground and the lower classes proving to be quite useful.

"Lord Keane!" he heard someone call, snapping him away from whatever memory he had been about to recall. "Watch out!"

"What the-" Derrick steered his horse to the side and immediately reacted to what he saw, thrusting his arm out to catch a man running by.

A group of four men, one with a Guardian Trainer's crest on his left shoulder, dashed up to him.

"Roland?" Derrick exclaimed. The uniform wasn't as ridiculous as he had first thought,

"Der- excuse me, Lord Keane." Roland looked up at him. "Thanks for the assistance."

"No problem." Derrick said as he climbed off his horse to examine the man he had apprehended. "Who is he, and what did he take?"

"That's what we're about to find out." Roland replied.

"I never took anything!" the man, apparently in his twenties, protested.

"Then why were you running?" Derrick and Roland demanded in unison.

The End

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