The Grandmaster's Tale

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I was not intending, originally, to write this story.

The truth of what happened, many years ago, to unseat Grandmaster Boscha from his tenure at Whitehall was carefully buried, with good reason. I, the prime mover in those events, and my comrades had every incentive to keep the truth to ourselves. Those who supported Boscha and found themselves vulnerable when his influence was broken had similar reasons to keep their mouths shut. The cover story has remained firmly in place until this day.

This statement will not see publication, like my prior missive, until after the death of everyone involved. The spells I have woven into the parchment will see to it.

The background, of course, is fairly well known. The war was over. The empire was gone. The necromancers were a distant threat and the Allied Lands, the union of kingdoms that spent more time fighting each other than the common foe, only existed in embryo. The schools, once loyal to the Emperor and his court of magicians, were effectively independent, practically statelets in their own right. Their masters had authority and influence, at least in part, because no one had the power to tell them no. It was a situation calling for tact, diplomacy and a certain willingness to compromise. Grandmaster Boscha had none of those things.

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