"Oh," fans cried. "This modern masters spellbook is too expensive and has too many valuable spells. I had better hoard unopened tomes for future dividends."
So then, the Wizards of the Coast cast a spell and brought into being a second, less valuable spellbook.
"Oh," fans cried. "This volume is more expensive, but is comprised mostly of refuse and broken dreams. I shall pay no never mind to this one, save for the 92 drafts I normally do."
Thus it came to past that the Wizards, wizened and set in their ways, did look upon the landscape and despaired. For theirs was a kingdom of ruin, where true peace was a dream lost within a dream. One by one, they drank from their flasks of bittered rum and let their voices be heard. There must be a way to make the common folk happy. Some said they should revive the old magics, locked away long ago by the Seal of Reservation. "Then we risk loosing the Barristers of Gehanna upon our persons," the elders said.
Others said that perhaps the path to resolution lay in the opening up of the spellbook to the common folk, loosing the mythical grip on the most rarest of spells. "Ah," the slowest-witted and least-liked among the wizards said. "Then what of those souls who have spent their hard earned coin in collecting those spells?"
"A pox upon those peasants," the rest thought, but were silenced nonetheless. For they knew that path could lead to the ruination of all things, as foretold in the Chronicles of yore.
The Wizards put their heads together and thought, for many nights and for many days. While shimmering monstrosities rampaged across the villages of the frozen lands north of their stronghold, they thought. While the villainous Turtle Knight slandered the chivalrous, they pondered. At long last, they came up with a solution. It was bold. It was daring. It may be the last, best hope of saving modern magics from oblivion. They would make cast another spell, a third salvo to save their magics. This time, the tome they brought into existence would be cheaper, but also filled with valuable spells. It would be the best of both worlds.
"Surely," they said. "This would appease the peasantry."
Naive that thought may have been, but noble in its aim. For of all the madness, chaos and beauty of the world and all its magics, there is but one constant.
The peasantry are never truly happy.
