8 years later...

Eight years have passed since that fate-filled day on which I fled the city of my birth, now in the hands of the horrible tyrants. Over these years I have watched, from my hiding place, as they turned my parent's work to dust. They did away with the peace law, the law stating that all human beings are equal, whether they be of dark skin or fair skin, rich backgrounds or poor backgrounds. They enslaved the poor and rewarded the rich, turning the rich merchant families back into the slave drivers of old. They dug up the beautiful valleys and mined in the caverns, looking for resources to sell to other kingdoms. And that they found. The magical Amagi stone. Sold for thousands of gold pieces per tonne, they had really hit the jack-pot. 

The Amagi stone was the crystallized form of every magician's powers. The Amagi stone was the source of their power. As the tyrants mined more and more of the Amagi stone, they noticed that less and less new magicians were coming forth to be part of their army. When they questioned the village chief's, the slave drivers, they all answered the same: There simply were no more Magicians. No children or youths were discovering their powers.. This started from the towns nearest the mines, and rippled slowly outwards, until only those farthest from the mines, where there were still healthy supplies of Amagi, had newly forming magicians. Not that the tyrant king, Omageke, knew of these magicians. These magicians, farthest from the castle in the capital city at Mayenek, on the coast, they knew what others didn't.

They knew the Princess lived. And they supported her. My army was growing... 

The End

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