Prologue, chapter 1

Britain, 1666...

The tall man walked up the wooden stage and then watched the crowd in front of him. The view would have surprised any other, but not him. He seemed to be rather pleased as he inspected the mass of people. The audience whispered excitedly as they watched the tall man look around. Apparently, he would have some important stuff to say.

The man looked quite extraordinary. He had a grand, pointy moustache on his long, rimpled face. He wore a long hat and a beautiful brown 17th century suit. He was, however, no match for his audience. It was filled with the most unusual people you could imagine. Midgets, giants, witches, eastern sorcerors and black medicine men were just some of the people that gave the impression that this was not the most common of conventions.

The whispers had turned into loud chats and the tall man raised his hands. In seconds, the noise died away and everyone stared at him anxiously. He smiled mildly and coughed a few times before he commenced his speech.

"It pleases me greatly that you have all come here voluntarily. However, those of you who chose otherwise, have been brought here yesterday, unfortunately with use of the neccessary force."

Whispers had gone up for a second, but another arm gesture returned the crowd to silence once again.

"We can assure you no one has come to harm. However, we had to remove their powers by force, thus causing them some unpleasant feelings. You may be wondering where we stored their magic. We know like no other the power of such combined magic and were therefore forced to store it in our most enchanted chest. Behold..."

He now had the attention of every single person present before him. He stepped back a little and closed his eyes. He slowly started waving his hands above the wooden stage and smoke came out of nowhere. Suddenly his eyes opened, but they were completely white. His body shook as he muttered incantations. Runes appeared under his hands and started to glow intensely.

Then, after a loud sonic boom accompanied by lightning and more smoke, he fell down on the stage. The crowd gasped in amazement as the smoke slowly disappeared. On the stage now stood 5 grand wizards and 4 stunning sorceresses. In their midst stood a large, runed, wooden chest. Everyone seemed to feel it... this chest radiated immense power.

"The..." spoke the tall man again when he got back on his feet, "...the Council of Ten has used all her power to deny access to this chest's contents for the latest months. We have succeeded in doing so, for today our quest will be completed.
We allow the world to enter an era of peace and reason. This will be a new dawn for mankind. In a matter of time, we shall all be equals and thus war shall die out. We will finally be able to work towards a better future worldwide. Our sacrifice will make this possible. We are the martyrs of peace!"

When he spoke those last words most of the crowd erupted in cheers. Some seemed rather annoyed however, and did not speak. Still, no one seemed to deem it wise to contradict the magnificent speaker.

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"...but you're talking about the Council of Ten, aunt Beth!"

"Of course I am. And do I seem to care? Begone, you annoying girl!" sneered the old, hunched witch as she scurried into her tent.

The entrance of the tent flew open again and in came a red-haired little girl in a brown dress. She must've been around 14 years old. She breathed heavily, yet did not seem surprised by the contents of the tent, which was full of most unusually gross substances and scrolls. The girl swallowed before she spoke again.

"You won't leave the terrain like this and even if you did, the Council would track you down in less time than it takes for a falling apple to hit the ground!"

The old woman quickly jumped forward and picked up a handful of dirt. She threw it into the air and as it fell back to the ground, a green shoot had come out of the ground. The red-haired girl watched in amazement as it grew to the roof of the tent. Apples formed at its branches. A red apple suddenly fell down and held still in mid-air.

"Magic. Do you think it is hard for me to stop an apple from hitting the ground? The Council is full of young idealists. William has lost his ways and his nine pupils make him believe the world is better off without magic. Rat poop, I say! Without magic, how will I survive my weekly excecution?"

"Aunt Beth," the girl pleaded "no one forces you to participate in witch hunts. After all, you are a witch. And honestly, you're scaring the townsfolk. You could easily live a quiet, normal life without excecutions. You are addicted to death."

"At my age you have to be addicted to something to survive. I chose death. Now quit your yabbering and get out of my tent before you step on a scroll." With a clap of her hands, the girl got launched out of the tent, which imploded seconds later with a cracking sound."

Then, with another series of cracking sounds the old witch re-appeared on the ground, surrounded by the Council of Ten. She stared around and then fixed her eyes on the tall man she referred to as William. She spit on the ground and within the blink of an eye she threw a deep purple bolt out of her right hand in his direction.

The black-haired wizard on his right quickly countered the spell with a light blue blast. William didn't move an inch, but smiled widely at the old witch.

"Beëlzebeth. I had not expected anything different from you. A talented witch like yourself finds it hard to let go, no doubt. However, your game will end here and now. You are next to hand in your powers and believe me, it'll be more pleasant for all of us if you hand it to us peacefully." he spoke, his smile still on his face.

Beëlzebeth gave William a nasty look, but he only seemed to enjoy it.

"Very well then. I hope you choke on my magic! May it choke you like cesspit fumes. Your idealistic views will never save the world, because you have donkey brains! You want my magic? Fine. ARRANTHE NEMA NEMA DUUS!"

On the ground lay a swollen up, scurvy dog. I seemed to be filled with cancer and swellings with dark green ooze dripping from its anus. It tried to roll over, but barfed over the dark-haired wizard's shoes.

"All my magic in one sick dog. Throw it in your chest, why don't you? Much good it'll do to you." Beëlzebeth spoke and kicked the dog in its swollen stomach.

The dark-haired wizard grabbed for something in his pocket as the dog barfed over his shoes again. The tall wizard named William restrained him. He waved his hands over the dog, which disappeared without sound.

"Pity." He spoke. "I'd have expected more from the great Beëlzebeth, oldest witch of the world. This magic is rather pitiful, but nonetheless it is good we have it stored. Check her."

Two sorceresses used magic globes around her and the blond one nodded to William. "She is nothing more but a filthy old woman now."

William's smile had not faded all this time.

"Good. We'll be on our way then. We have a world to improve. Oh, and Beth, try not to get yourself killed in the next witch hunt, will you?" he sneered.

Then, with cracking sounds the Council disappeared. Beëlzebeth muttered and swore and scurried off.

"A- Aunt Beth..." the girl stuttered, "Are you completely powerless now?"

"I'm out of magic if that's what you mean, but that doesn't mean I'm powerless. I'm going home to live the rest of my life in my shack. Go home to my sister; she'll be pleased to hear the next time I die, it'll be permanent."

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This concludes part A of the prologue. There is more to come soon. Don't worry if this strikes you as too serious; the story will get wicked eventually. Heck, it'll even feature the most anti-climactic battles between good and evil ever.

Enjoy the reads,
Wowter