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In my travels I have visited places that I disliked, spoken with people whom I have distrusted, and seen such things that have filled me with distaste. Now I know that those were but shadowy emotions compared to the loathing I feel toward the eastern island of Magincia.
It is far too bright, too glamorous. The people are buoyed up by a fountain of wealth, and have begun to think they are divine. Magincia simply cannot spend money fast enough to outstrip its income. They work diligently at spending it, I grant; it is the only thing at which they labor. The streets are lined with precious metals and the buildings are encrusted with gems. Anything that has been invented or created in the realm, Magincia has purchased. Perhaps this flagrant waste of gold would not be so dismaying, were it not for the people themselves. They do nothing which resembles work: daily chores, study, even the creation of arts is too tedious for their hands. They glory in their laziness. I tell you true, Kerick, that there are citizens of Magincia who have never lifted a finger for themselves. What technology or natural abundance cannot supply for them, magic furnishes. Everything is imported, while the forests are bursting with fruit and the plains are golden with grain. If it is hard for you to imagine such a place, let me give you an example. When Magincians meet one another, they do not inquire of each others' health. Instead, they display their latest toy or bauble for their acquaintance to admire. They feel nothing but repugnance for any who cannot match their economic status. In fact, a Magincian will not talk directly to a common laborer under any circumstances. Those that are forced, by necessity, to communicate with a worker will hire a servant - one sufficiently lofty not to be infectious, apparently - whose only task in life is to speak in the stead of the upper-class citizen. They would not breathe air if breathing meant losing superiority of status. I cannot tell you how greatly I take offense at the attitudes of Magincia. It is a jewel-encrusted canker, with all the charity of a nest of rats and all the goodness of a festering wound. Were this city - and its people and treasure - to be blasted into ashes, I would say it were no loss at all. Your friend, Garreth |
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