The Hall of Wizards

The hall of wizards is in an uproar, divided Red and Blue. They raise their fists across the aisle shouting accusations, hurling counter spells until nobody knows what confusion their magic brings.
In secret chambers upon the great wall gleeful hands are rubbed together. Overlords assure one another. “The fools,” said the fattest. “Let them argue. Let them believe their own lies. Let them fill their grubby pockets with our leavings. As long as they are at each other’s throats they leave ours alone. Always have we profited. Always has our secret incantation been proclaimed. Let the Red and Blue squabble among themselves. The tentacles of our dragons continue to multiply, search out ever more pockets. We continue to prosper. It is good to be in the Black.”
“Hail the Black.”
“Oh yes. Hail we Black wizards.”
And all their bellies shook as they roared out, “Hail the Black wizards.”
“What of the White? They attempt to stir the rabble.”
“Let them stir. It will be a weak broth. None believe in the White. Without belief their spells amount to nothing.