The Aeolian Master - Book One - Revival HTML version

It could have been considered a whirlwind event, but it was more like a hurricane of circumstances and
political intrigue that brought him to the Galaef. He didn't just think it was a rouse, he was certain of it. No one
at this level of government would take an interest in the myth of the Aeolian Master, unless there was some
nefarious subplot lurking just below the surface.
But why had they involved him—a nobody from an insignificant planet?
He didn't care. He wanted the money for the archaeological dig. So when they ordered, he came. The fact
was, even if he didn't want to come, he had no choice.
As the translucent metal door slid quietly into its recess, Professor Benjamin Hillar stepped through the
doorway and into the huge, lower lobby of the Galactic Empire Headquarters.
Maravan, the G Staff Guide, stepped beside him. He obtained a better grip on Professor Hillar’s luggage,
and asked, “So, what do you think?”
Ben looked around. “Incredible.”
“Yes, sir, that was my reaction the first time I stepped through these doors.
“All this wealth.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. He noted what riches beyond imagination could buy—exotic plants with beautiful
multicolored blooms sitting in lavish pots, priceless pictures by ancient artists hanging on the walls, expensive
furniture made from imported hardwoods from around the galaxy, which were placed in expertly designed
alcoves and recessed into the exquisitely decorated walls.
“I suppose,” said Ben, “the Galaef has no limits as to what he can acquire—entire planets, if he so chooses.”