From the vantage of the General’s residence, there was no doubt that magic has its limits.
Linus was running out of ideas – attacking was a miscalculated move, defending the island was approaching a stalemate, and surrendering was looking like the better deal.
He prided himself a nobleman, General Linus of Qurin Mirage, whose rule brought corruption to the cellars and fairness to the courts, ending the tyranny of street gangs and drug lords that once terrorized the seas and doomed its own economy to black market deals and murder rampages.
The turnover had its share of deaths and betrayals, yet, however devastating the cost was wholly welcomed by the citizens, eager for someone brave enough to kill evil as it is, though how that was defined weighed upon which is the lesser evil in their eyes.
Sure, potions were involved, royals were assassinated, and blood was ever flowing from his chambers, but who could deny the competence of a General who knew trade roads from North to South, numbers of street signs and ages of children born in every household; the precision in logistics and the dedication to remember every complaint lodged with a solution ready at the whim.
Hence, when the sirens blared to take shelter and the seas filled with battle sails, nobody believed Qurin was under attack.
For who would disrespect and rage against an honorable General who publicly took an oath to do no harm than absolutely necessary?
Linus packed his belongings and portalled into Qurin’s gold reservoir, and with a flick of his wand made everything disappear into thin air.
To be honest, he was not expecting his scheme to be over as quickly as it began.
Perhaps his proposal for an overhaul of the world order was an act of provocation too early which warranted suspicion; perhaps his flair and charisma for politics was threatening the rulers whose power were waning, who refused to exercise their responsibilities - rather, compromising promises with solutions far greater than better crops and nicer roads, convincing people to point their fingers towards that bloodsucking, cunning, evil ideal mirage of a paradise, and watched as the chess pieces advance on its own, closing in on the castle.
Except overnight, the General’s residence vanished, in its place an apple tree bearing the bitterest fruit tested lethal for poison.
Soon, it was forgotten how the war started.
Once a mutual effort to eradicate a tiny cockroach, became a never-ending bombardment of any insects deemed unworthy of existence.
Eventually, the last survivors of the wars would come across archives of a lost paradise under a poison apple tree, led by a General so fair and just that the people never starved and the gold never ran out.
It was as though magic existed, thrived and was gone forever. Or hidden so well that none learned about its existence, until now.
The last Mirage ate their apples, and set off to follow this lead - one that lead to the Great Magician Linus.