Free Eve of Destruction by C.E. Stalbaum

resulted in a term of stagnation and outright inaction. As the first torbo president in Arkadian history, Janel was a historical figure from the moment he had taken office, but his weak coalition government hadn’t managed to please anyone in the long term. Arkadia was the closest it had ever been to civil war.
    “Janel is moderate and passive, and right now people want an active extremist,” Danev muttered eventually. “I doubt his party will keep a quarter of their seats in Parliament.” 
    “You don’t really think Marose has a chance?”
    He snorted. “She’ll be lucky to get ten seats. The Enclave will support her, but I have the feeling a lot of magi won’t even turn out to vote this time.”
    Aram raised an eyebrow. “Including you?”
    “She’ll get my vote. I did graduate with her, you know.” Danev raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Why the sudden interest, anyway?”
    “I needed to know if you were planning to pack up so I could talk you out of it,” Aram said. “Business is still good, after all.”
    “And you don’t like to run.”
    The bodyguard’s face might have twitched slightly, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. “No.”
    Danev smiled. Either way, Aram was probably right. Regardless of how bad Vaschberg had gotten, the Pampered Goddess continued to do well. It had been a fixture in this town for almost twenty years now, and the services he provided were still unique.
    He was an illusionist, a mage specialized in distorting the perceptions of others. In the case of his business, it took the form of bringing erotic fantasies to life. Back in his university days at Valmeri, illusion had been a heavily disparaged discipline—and it still was in most academic circles—but unlike most of his peers he had taken his weaving talents beyond the church or university and moved into the private sector.
    His critics liked to label the Pampered Goddess as a brothel, but it was far more than a seedy bordello. It catered to upper class, independent wealthy women rather than the boorish masses of inebriated young men or even the hobbyist older male crowd. It was also, he liked to remind puritans, not technically a brothel. The women who came in were treated to his best romantic illusions, but in the end it was all just a fantasy. Without the risk of disease, pregnancy, or even peer judgment, the Goddess had become legendary only months after it opened.
    It had made him a wealthy man, even if business had been slowly decreasing over the past few years. He could easily move anywhere in the world and not look back, and in truth the Goddess was only one of his many business ventures these days. He liked to stay informed on politics and the economy, and his own private network of contacts had brought in more drakes than “legitimate” business for some time. He could move and keep all of that intact, but that wasn’t his style. He liked to be in the game, as the saying went, and Vaschberg was close to the center of the board.
    And the truth was that he didn’t like to run, either.
    “I probably shouldn’t complain so much,” Danev commented after another long drag from his cigar. “I doubt there’s another mage in the country who has gained as much from the Dusties as I have.”
    “Because you aren’t scared of trains?”
    He chuckled. “Because I understand how they’ve changed the world. Can you imagine trying to keep in contact with our people without the telegraph?”
    Aram shrugged. “Sending stones work just as well. Better, for the most part.”
    “They also cost a fortune. Have you seen the price of varium crystals recently?”
    “So instead we pillage the Fane right along with Chaval.”
    “That’s hardly what I meant.”
    “Maybe not,” Aram said softly, “but it’s the price and you know it.”
    Danev pursed his lips. He didn’t consider himself much of a holy man, especially for a mage, but he understood the danger that Chaval and Steamworks represented as well