Lord Black paced the breadth of his study. He was perplexed over the notes and writings he had gathered from the wizard's home. Even after sixteen years he was no closer to cracking the location
of the prize he sought. The other two would have been useful now, but they were long since disposed of a clue may have rested with the child, but to the Lord's own disgust he felt his ambition in
destroying the wizard had ended the life of the boy as well.
He marched over to his desk and toppled it over with a roar. \"Perhaps I came at a bad time?\" came a voice from the door.
\"About time you arrived I always assumed you magical sorts never ran late.\" the lord's companion was a middle aged man, thin and pale with a large plaited beard and a tall pointed hat covering what remained of his black turning grey hair.
\"My apologize my Lord,\" said the wizard removing his hat in respect, holding it by his stomach. Lord black only waved a wrinkled hand.
\"Your predecessor I am sure you know, did not manage to aid me in translating these scripts perhaps you will prove more useful?\"
The wizard swallowed hard \"Yes, my Lord. I shall try my best\" Lord Black's face twisted in disgust.
\"Those that try are doomed to fail, wizard! You will succeed or I will show you all the mercy I showed the several wizards I employed before you. Now, the papers have found themselves in quite a vile state but they are over there in various small piles on the floor. You will start today.\"
The old, skeletal figure that was Lord Aaron Black walked out of his study leaving the wizard alone.
Osgood Milkbottle, as the wizard was known, had recently been promoted to Grand Mage of the city of Thorstone, and as such had attracted the attention of the wealthy Lord Black, renown for his
cruel workings. He had employed several Grand Mages in his time to do the job Osgood was now set, clearly each one had failed and disappeared. In Thorstone city, people can disappear very easily,
even Grand Mages.
He picked up the papers, they were flimsy and weak, old words were written on them in dark blue ink. He eyed them up, casting some minor spells to try and translate them via magic, nothing happened. He rubbed his bald spot and sighed.
Hours past and still the only words that were written on his notebook formed the first draft of his will. Until he noticed something peculiar, upon looking closely the letters seemed to move. He
looked closely and gasped at what he saw, was it possible none of the other Wizards had noticed that the scrolls were written in pure magic! He summoned his Lord instantly, to the wizard's horror
he merely shrugged his frail shoulders and said \"And what exactly does that mean?\"
\"Well, I suppose, my Lord it means we can tell who wrote it\"
\"I am fully aware of who wrote it, why they wrote and where they wrote it... If it does not translate the material I am not interested.\"
\"Well, I suppose if we had a sample of the Wizard's magic, we could use it in a translating spell.\"
The Lord grew red in the cheeks \"The Wizard is dead! All his spells long canceled and his mansion home obliterated! You will have to find a way to deal with the translations without digging up the past spells of Hector Morbid.\"
At the mention of Grand Arcanist Morbid's name, Osgood only gasped, the wizard in question was perhaps the most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth.
\"Sir, I hate to say it but... I have no chance of translating the works of Hector Morbid.\" \"Then I am afraid I have no use for you, if you do not supply me with some result by the end of the week... Well I will have to praise a new Wizard on their promotion to Grand Mage.\"
With this the Lord left again, leaving Osgood Milkbottle shaking.
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