Part the First: Kindling the flames
The Doge knew that he was not a kind man. He also didn’t think he was a cruel man, although this was occasionally brought into doubt. Today was one such day, where a guard had been caught stealing from the treasury. The money stolen was of little consequence, but it was the principle of the thing. He mused that putting the man to death seemed a little cruel, especially for the family, but it was too late change his judgement on that matter. A small smile washed over him, as he thought of a way to right the balance. “Articus!” He said, calling over his chief advisor, a wizard of not inconsiderable power. “Return the money stolen to the family of the diseased. It is worth far more to them then I; and it will help them survive without his income. In small coins mind you, we can’t have a poor maid trying to get change for a platinum piece, now can we. That’s how the guard got himself caught. And make sure that they know it’s in their best interests not to talk, can’t have people thinking that I hand out money to the families of everyone who tries to rob me, and they will be keen not to have their own treasures stolen from.”
Articus agreed, praising The Doge for his kindness and mercy, but inwardly thought to himself that the money would never reach the family. For that princely sum he would buy himself a wizardly staff of some power. Possibly an ancient artefact, if he could find one cheap enough. Alternatively, he could afford to hire a team of scribes to rewrite and send him tomes from the Wizard’s library. Not that it mattered at this stage, he had mastered all the spells he needed, more power was to be gained in politics rather then magic. Unlike the ageing wizards and magi in the wizard’s tower, he had real ambition, he wasn’t interested in the searching for scrolls of hidden knowledge, nor did he want to find aged artefacts for their own sake. Magic was a means, not an end; it was his tool to attaining real power.
“Now,” the Doge spoke once more, breaking Articus’s private thoughts, “I wish for a vision. What do the winds of fortune have in store for me?”. Articus prepared the spell, moving slowly as he decided what he wanted the winds of fortune to tell his Lord. “Some land would be nice. If the Doge expanded, he would have to trust an advisor to look after it. I will be the only obvious choice… by then at least.” Smiling at his private joke, he sat in the middle of the magic circle he had drawn on the ground and fell into a trance, incanting the words needed for the winds to show him their tidings from the future.
He saw a phoenix, rising. At one side it had a raven next to it, and to the other a parrot. The three birds flew together, higher and higher, and further away from the land; the land was slowly frosting over with bitter winds freezing the land. Eventually the birds turned on each other, and the raven burned and fell as the parrot fled. The phoenix burned out, turning to ash under a bright light. The raven and the parrot returned, and bowed down before the ashes, which once more caught fire, until from the flames of his death the phoenix was reborn. The phoenix melted the snows over the land, and left the two birds to feed, flying free and far away.
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