Uputsim entered the familiar corridor leading to the Hall of Magic. This was the centre of the Arcane Order, the military organization of mages in Songhai. The ageold building was made of drab but solid sandstone, with geometric decorations and simplistic design. Paired with the monumental look of the arched doorways and squared pillars, the building felt almost naked.
Although the mages were all rich, flaunting their wealth was frowned upon and gold stapled dross. The pecking order was not based on such lowly things as wealth, but accomplishments in the field of magic and personal honor. Uputsim had learned this the embarassing way, which also caused his rank to plummet within the Brotherhood. His face still reddened in shame and anger whenever he thought of that. Oh the horror, and what they did to him with the Stick...
Peer scrutiny and disciplining of novices and upstarts were and had always been severe in the Order. Mostly because they wanted to make sure noone leaked secrets, and because of the tight hierarchy. Anyone who slacked or betrayed the Order would be witnessed by five other mages, who promptly reported it. That was also why the factions were formed within the Order. If not the Order was a part of the military and under the Republic, they had surely split into rival organizations.
This was also the Power behind the Republic. Long ago, when he swore the oaths of the Brotherhood of the Chalice, he had learned what both the sides of Songhai's currency showed: The profile of Trinam, the current blessed Principe - and the Arcane Eye, the secret symbol of the Arcane Order. In all things, the Order had a meddling finger, and many Principal Councilors were "appointed" by the Order. The same way the Order was democratic only on the paper, the Republic was mostly dominated by the Principe and the Councilors. This combination was the fundament of the Order and its economy.
He had also discovered that the Brotherhood had always been a strong faction, despite its relatively few members. The brotherhood had held the seat of the Archmage for nearly three decades under the great leadership of Premio Frato Daion. But now his period would soon end as his age slowly crept to claim his health. The man was nearly sixty, and still went on with his office. He himself said he would continue his work until he died. No wonder he was respected by nearly all of the Order.
Reflecting on this, Uputsim entered the vast Hall of Magic. The Brotherhood and the Order would soon reach boiling point as the inevitable retirement of Daion closed. The Premio Frato had actually summoned him to his office, and the given matter which they had to discuss was precisely the coming succession games. Uputsim looked down on the scrawled piece of parchment his superior had sent him, and frowned. He could not understand why the Premio had to talk with just him.
Uputsim was not at all among the highest in the Brotherhood. The most likely candidate from their faction would be the Right Hand, Trilay. She was a fierce woman, with all the ambition and cunning to claim the seat of Archmage and keep it. If not greatly honored, she was respected for her strict discipline and sheer prowess with magic. She had risen rapidly in the recent, and was second only to the Premio in the Brotherhood. This fact was all too easy to see in her attitude.
Uputsim shook his head, and resigned to his initial conclusion: the message was simply an excuse to summon him to a private chat. He had been his mentor long ago when he was first embraced as a novice, and had later stood for his inauguration. As Premio Frato, he had also witnessed the Oaths as well. More importantly, though, it was Daion who had come to him on the hill that one evening when Uputsim's village had been saved from a catastrophic drought. He had at once seen "a spark in the little fellow", and carried him away to the great capital of Timboktou to begin his training. Although this was discouraged, Uputsim and Daion had met unformally several times since the end of the Premio's mentorship. Uputsim could only think this was another of those "illegal chats".
Suddenly, Uputsim was standing in front of the Premio's office in the Wing of the Chalice. His mind had wandered, and he had not realized his arrival. He shook his head in vexation, then his eyes shot wide open. The door was not closed! The door was never left ajar, but now it was admitting a sliver of flickering light out from a tiny crack by the doorpost.
"Premio!" shouted Uputsim, and rushed in, and stopped dead. The Premio was dead. The Archmage was dead, murdered. The blood was everywhere, in the bed, on the floor, some on the walls and even the cieling. The monumental marble desk was totally rampaged, and the books that usually towered in high stacks on it were all scattered around the room. The sad distorted and badly sliced body of the Premio lay on the stone floor, gagged and with a frozen mask of horror and pain. The entire chamber reeked of blood.
Suddenly, Uputsim felt a hand cover his face and drag him backwards, sending him down on the hard stone floor. He barely managed to react before he felt a stab of awakening pain as a blade struck his side. He twisted, and the blade tore him up between his ribs, and hit the floor with a metallic clash. The assassin is still here! he quickly seized the weapon, and bellowed out his loudest roar. "TREASON! ALL MEN TO ARMS!"
The blackrobed assassin did not waste his time, and quickly retrieved several small daggers with both his hands. With a blurring spin, he began hurling them toward Uputsim with tremendous agility and accuracy. Uputsim drew a rune in the air, throwing up a shield of wind to block the incoming daggers. The assassin, grabbed a small globe at his hip and threw it towards the floor, but Uputsim had seen those in action before. Quickly, he summoned a wind to sweep the globe away and out the window where it hit the plaza below, covering several confused bystanders in a dense smoky fog.
Now Uputsim countered, rising to his feet, chanting. The assassin saw it as his last and only chance to escape, and dashed for the door. Uputsim flicked with his finger, and the portal slammed shut and locked. Then he shot out his arms and cried, casting a holding spell. The assassins robe wrapped tightly around his lithe body, and his limbs stretched out to their limit. Further, as Uputsim tweaked his fingers. the assassins arms became disjointed with an audible snap and a fitting scream.
Uputsim was already casting his next spell as the assassin continued to proclaim his location to the already alerted guards. He extracted the water in the air, and made a growing globule of water midair. The he began directing the water towards the open mouth of the agonized assassin. Suddenly, the helpless felon realized he was being drowned, and screamed even more violently.
The guards came only to see a man suspended midair with water overflowing in his mouth. Behind this grim spectacle, Uputsim stood with a face of hewn rock. His face was completely without expression, and tears trickled down from his red eyes. It took the guards great effort to make Uputsim release the magic, and tell them what had happened.