I certainly hate lightning mages, so very much. Always strutting around the castle grounds like they owned the place, just because what they did was flashier than the rest of us. I had a full-time gig ripening grapes in the royal vineyard, but did I get any credit? Not a single pat on the back, no sir. I sat there day after day, casting ripening spells, while everyone fawned over the people who could cause lightning to rain from the sky in a vague area of their choosing.
I suppose things are reversed in this world, though no less fair. If things were the right way round, people like residential electricians would be the ones receiving the praise and adoration from the masses. After all, they keep the things going that we use every day, like the mystic box of Neat-Flicks providence, the cooling machine of magnificent icy wonder, and the lights of enlightening that I use when it gets dark, and I need light. But instead, people are falling over themselves and weeping salty tears for actors and musicians.
Bah! In my realm, players belong in their proper place: at the bottom. The jester is laughed at, the court musicians provide ambience without really being noticed, and the minstrels are but mere mouthpieces for the greatness of others, and not themselves. And yes, I’m well aware of the irony of promoting the good work of electricians, as they bear so much resemblance to the lightning-casting airheads I used to so despise. Such is the merry-go-round of life…swings and roundabouts, clogs and sandals, lemons and limes, tomatoes and still more tomatoes, and I forgot what I was saying, but I wonder about the electricians working in Cheltenham and their ability to manipulate lightning with mere technology.
I’m honestly unsure what an electrician actually does, but that’s my best guess. The greater mystery is how they do their work without demanding a parade…unlike some types of wizard.