1- A hungry Mage

Bellog, a former battle mage, squatted beside a faded parchment spread across the cobblestones.

MAGICAL RODENT EXTERMINATION – 2 SILVER

He wore patched medieval rags and threadbare gloves. A drooping mustache hung beneath a permanently bored expression as people walked past without sparing him a glance. Around his right arm was a cloth band marked with a single M.

The entire street looked much the same. Dozens of former mages sat beside handwritten signs, each offering magical services for a handful of coppers just to avoid starving. Every one of them wore the same armband.

The locals mockingly called the place Hocus-Pocus, Your Skills Are Bogus Street, a narrow district in Talantum, the capital of the Kingdom of Sheba.

A peasant with a bowl haircut stopped in front of Bellog.

Bellog immediately straightened in his seat, forcing himself with the confidence of the man he once was.

"Good day, sire. My name is Bellog, the former greatest battle mage of Sheba. I decided the outcome of countless battlefield." He gestured proudly toward his sign. "Now, for the modest price of two silver, I shall defeat your enemies... in your fields."

The peasant scratched his chin.

"Two silver? The fellow over there said he'd do it for five coppers." He pointed farther down the street.

Bellog's eye twitched. "That bastard!" he roared. "I've already told him to stop ruining my business, or I'll destroy him!"

The peasant nodded thoughtfully. "Right... anyway, I wanted to hire you for my son's birthday."

Bellog blinked as the peasant would have slapped him with manure covered hands.

"He turns six next week. Think you could make balloon animals out of pig intestines? Maybe a dog. Or a dragon."

Bellog slowly rose to his feet, his eyes twitching.

"What do you take me for?" His voice trembled with outrage. "A jester for children?"

He jabbed a finger toward the peasant. "With the mere flick of this finger, your entire serfdom would've been annihilated!"

"Sure." The peasant remained completely unfazed as he pulled a necklace from beneath his shirt. Hanging from it was a rough black stone.

"But nowadays it'd only make a snapping sound."

Skart. The stone that nullified magic. The stone that ended the ages of mages.

“That stupid rock…” Before Bellog could continue, several nearby mages hurried over.

"If this fool doesn't want the job, I'll do it for five coppers."

"I'll do it for four!"

"I'll match four, and I'll even can make a balloon snake out of the intestines!"

The three immediately began undercutting one another.

Bellog stared in disbelief before finally exploding. "You filthy lot! Where is your pride?" His voice echoed down the street. "We are mages!"

"Pride doesn't fill your stomach, Bellog.”

One of them simply shrugged as he shook the peasant's hand.

"Face it. Magic doesn't mean anything anymore. These days, a hardworking peasant is worth more than a mage.” He pocketed the advance payment with a smile.

Bellog slowly lowered himself back into a squat and folded his arms.

"We lost our usefulness..." His voice became little more than a murmur. "...not our dignity.”

****

Later that day, Bellog walked through the center of Talantum on his way home.

The streets were crowded with beggars, prostitutes calling out to passersby, and drunkards singing loudly while stumbling through the alleys.

Peace has its price, Bellog thought. After the fall of the mages, the kingdoms signed treaties. Instead of fighting wars with magic, they now try to outmaneuver one another through politics and trade.

Ahead of him, a small crowd had gathered outside a church. They held signs bearing the image of a wizard's hat crossed out with red paint.

A man stood atop a wooden crate. "We must defend ourselves from them!" he shouted. "The mages have turned this city into chaos!"

The crowd nodded in agreement.

"They clutter our streets without doing a single useful thing!"

Angry murmurs spread through the gathering.

"And now they've turned to crime! Some even say Talantum has a mage crime epidemic, yet the king does nothing. So we, the Anti-Mage League, must act ourselves..."

He raised a pitchfork into the air. "...We must lynch every mage!"

The crowd erupted into cheers as pitchforks, clubs, and rusted blades suddenly appeared from beneath cloaks and coats.

Bellog slowly stepped backward and tried to pull of his armband marked with an M.

It had been issued by the Magistrate of Talantum so mages could be identified at a glance. Anyone caught using magic without an official armband was sentenced to death.

The man on the crate suddenly took a deep sniff of the air. His eyes snapped toward Bellog just as the former battle mage stuffed the armband into his pocket.

"A mage!" he shouted. "Get him!"

Every member of the mob turned toward Bellog. Each of them wore a Skart pendant around their neck.

Bellog ran. The mob charged after him. He rounded a corner while, a thick yellow cloud poured from his mouth, quickly filling the street.

Using this distraction, he ducked into a narrow alley.

The mob thundered past the entrance, coughing and shouting as Bellog slipped away unseen.

Cutting through the alley, he passed several people collapsed against the walls. Their eyes darted rapidly like a bird bobbing its head. They weren't drunk thats for sure.

As he neared the opposite end, two figures blocked his path. One was a skinny, twitching man whose head constantly bobbed as he scratched his arms raw.

The other was a woman draped in luxurious red velvet, her clothes far too expensive for the part of town she stood in. She greeted her customer with a dazzling smile, revealing four front teeth in polished gold.

Bellog recognized her at once. “Malagam…”

Without a word, she accepted a heavy pouch of coins and, in return, slipped the man a small glass vial filled with a faint pink liquid.

Bellog had heard whispers about it.

Nectar. The potion they called the water that made a peasant feel like a king. A single sip was said to drown misery, melt away fear, and make even the poorest soul feel as though they ruled the world.

He also knew who was rumored to brew it. Gregorryo. Once, he had stood beside Bellog on the battlefield as a respected battle mage, sworn to the same knightly vows. Now, instead of defending kingdoms, he poisoned them one bottle at a time.

Bellog felt a bitter knot tighten in his chest. To think one of our own had fallen so far…

Bellog hurried over and grabbed Malagam by the arm.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. "Selling magical potions is illegal!"

Malagam looked over her shoulder and smiled.

"My old friend." She laughed softly. "You haven't changed. Still as stiff as you were on the battlefield."

Bellog snorted. "Easy to say from someone who always hid in the back lines."

"I preferred surviving." She shrugged. "Would you really send a pretty lady like me to the front?"

"I never saw you as a lady," Bellog replied. "Only as a mage."

Malagam sighed dramatically and tried to pull away. "Men like you bore me."

She flicked Bellog's arm. "Levictus."

Instantly, Bellog's body became almost weightless, and he floated upward as if made of feathers, while Malagam tried to slip away cackling like a mad dog.

Malagam's magic reduced the mass of whatever she touched. During the wars she had lightened supply wagons, and even made knights' heavy armor feel almost weightless.

Bellog opened his mouth. A thick mustard-colored gas poured from it.

"Materialization Shape: Whip."

The cloud hardened into a long whip. Bellog caught it and snapped it around Malagam's neck before yanking himself toward her.

"Remove your spell," he growled, "or I'll cast God's Judgement!"

For the first time, fear crossed Malagam's face. "The spell you used against the Galochin army?"

"The very one, that abolished the five thousand strong army, before they even finished their charge."

She swallowed hard and touched him again. Bellog dropped back onto the cobblestones.

At the same time, the whip dissolved back into gas. Malagam inhaled just a bit of the drifting fumes with a satisfied smile.

"That's the good stuff." She grinned. "Why don't you use your magic like you did at Penée Pass?"

Bellog grabbed her wrist. "That wasn't magic. It was a disaster. I was sick…And using magic for crime is forbidden by the Mage Guild."

"The Mage Guild?" For the first time, Malagam's smile disappeared. "It watches us starve. It watches us sell miracles for copper scraps. It watches its own members become street performers." Her voice hardened. "What kind of guild lets its own people be humiliated like this?"

Bellog opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Because she was right.

"The Guild's age ended the day Skart was discovered," Malagam continued. "But our talents didn't disappear. We can still use them... just in different ways."

Bellog's expression darkened. He dragged Malagam out onto the street. Nearby, two town guards were busy harassing a beggar.

"Guards!" Bellog shouted. "I've caught a criminal!"

The guards wandered over with little enthusiasm. "What's seems to be the problem?"

"She's dealing illegal magical potion. Nectar."

One guard's eyes lit up. "Nectar?"

Malagam calmly stepped out from behind Bellog. "Hello, boys."

The guards immediately smiled. "Oh, Malagam. It's you. There is a problem?"

Bellog stared at them. "I just told you the problem!"

Neither guard paid him any attention.

"This poor mage is a few years behind the times," Malagam said with a teasing smile. "He needs a little lesson about how the world works now."

"You know lessons aren't free," one guard replied with a grin.

Malagam gently brushed a finger across his cheek. "Next time I'll throw in a little extra. Production's been slow lately."

The two guards exchanged knowing smiles. Then one pulled a pair of Skart handcuffs from his belt.

"Hands in front." he ordered Bellog.