Magic can appear spontaneously amongst individuals and there are little general rules. Aptitude can be transferred through hereditary inheritance, through constant intellectual theorizing and through rigorous physical training in the elements. These theories still hold true: even today the greatest predictor of magical aptitude is the skill of the parents. There is a reason that Reconstruction-era magicians had their genealogical lineages shaped closer to ladders than to family trees and why Kavaa had established a minor order of Clerics who specialized solely in the regeneration of birth defects.

  Yet this issue was, or should have been fixed through the Great War. The advent of such a conflict necessitated magical conscription. Thousands of new and untapped bloodlines were found during the period. Mages where pushed as hard as they had been pushed during Worldbreaking. Every year, at least a single candidate passed my examinations for the rank of Archmage. By the time we finished, we had the will, we had the raw talent, we had a surplus of manpower and we had countless untapped new theoretical schools of thought to delve into, all created under the necessities brought on by the Great War. When Arcadia was formalized into the Land of Magic, every one of us predicted a golden age for magical advancement.

  Immediately, magic began to stagnate. By the time the other independent Colleges of Magic had shut their doors, Arcadia was on its way to becoming little more than a qualification mill. Bloodlines that should have been able to produce people of untold power were struggling to rise out of the class of apprentice. From year 1 to year 100 of Pantheon Peace, we had lost half the archmages that came out of the Great War and we were struggling to create more. There were points when discussions came about to the land itself being cursed.

  The 85 Arcadia Census began to track the progress of students who had come from abroad versus those who were born in Arcadia. 95, 105 and 115 confirmed the trend. The pattern has not changed. Now that we are approaching the 205 Census, the pattern has been ongoing for a century and it is terribly consistent: The later a student comes to the Land of Magic, the greater a mage they will become. As I write this, only Archmage Velin remains from the Great War. When he is gone, he will be replaced by another who was not raised in this prison.

  Thus, we have to go back to the beginning. What are the rules of magic and what do they mean? Hereditary inheritance? Theorizing? Physical training? Ultimately, all three have a base effect in the exposure of magic. Credit has to be given where credit is due, this theory is not based off my own logic. It is based off Anassa’s interpretation of our powers.

  Looking at times when magic flourished, there is one similarity: The Great War and Worldbreaking was filled with magicians who were pushing themselves to the breaking point. Arcadia also provides exposure yet it is an exposure of the masses. It just so happens to be that the masses are defined by mediocrity. With none to push them, those with the talent to become exceptional are now dragged down.

  We live in the Age of Pantheon Peace. The White Pantheon is resistant to magical reintegration into the world at large. This Land of Magic fails to produce exceptionality because it has become ridden with mediocrity. The White Pantheon should keep its nose out of magical theory. There is no such thing as pulling others up, there is only dragging others down.

  - Excerpt from “The State of Magic: Pantheon Peace”, written by Goddess Elassa, of Magic.

  “Goddess! Goddess Elassa! Goddess!” Elassa listened to some men cry out for her. Mages. The Empire had come, the chaff had been thoroughly separated out into the so-called ‘National’ Colleges of Magic but the simple fact of the matter was that it would still take a good while before the culture Elassa was trying to breed here would set in. Elassa leaned back into her seat and sighed as a mage strolled in. Ranked at a Journeyman, supposedly Victor Elanhoff was a teacher at the school. In some regards, he had enough power to become a battle-mage but the man had never seen conflict before. Elassa would not stain the lineages of all who had come before him by bringing him up to their level. Certainly not now that he was panicking. He stood in the doorway, red-faced from a run. “God Arascus has arrived.”

  “So he has.” Elassa mused, not once taking her eyes off the fellow. It had somewhat stung that Helenna had been asked to design the new uniforms and not Elassa. On the other, she had to give credit where credit was due. The black coat with purple outlines fit well, black for the Empire, purple like the Arcadian banner. A cap could have be gotten, maybe a beret would fit. Elassa would suggest something Helenna. It was obvious that the Goddess of Love had better style. Elassa put her elbows on the desk and intertwined her fingers. Her sapphire blue eyes gave a cold stare to the man at the door. It wasn’t even that she was annoyed by the fact the man was telling her something she already knew, it was just the sheer unprofessionalism of such a reaction to the fact Arascus was coming.

  Were where the Archmages who would scoff at Allasaria? The men who would get into shouting matches with Fortia and Maisara? Those who were so proud that they would tell Elassa to flee because they could reconstruct themselves? Just because Arascus had come did not mean that the world was ending. Elassa stared in silence at Journeyman Elanhoff. Fool. Idiot. Cretin. Imbecile. Swine. Swill. Slop. Maggot. Whether it was the curses she was thinking of in her mind or the fact that she gave no reaction still, he seemed to get the idea. “We’ll inform him you’re ready.”

  No response from the Goddess of Magic. Elanhoff shut the door and ran off. Elassa just rolled her eyes and held her posture. Her office was unchanged as it had been for the past thousand years. There was still a grand table in the middle, with chairs around it and her desk seated at the head. Cabinets with tomes and with wines, all Arcadia-brews, were arrayed upon the shelves. Behind her, the War College of Arcadia was living up to its name. Exercises on weather manipulation were reaching fruition, soon a single mage would be able to stem a tornado by themselves. Currently, storms raged as entire classes of magicians channelled their willpower into the air and sent it rolling across the landscape, only for students on the other side to catch and bring it down. The landscape had been devastated.

  Elassa did not care. Better to tear up this grass now than to let Tartarus drown them in ash. Grass could always be regrown. The demolition of the excess buildings had finally been finished. They had been broken down, Elassa had wanted to submerge them at first although the Imperial Bureau of Culture had written a letter praising her. That letter had been enough for Elassa to be convinced that they should be allowed to pull whatever columns or paintings or wallpaper or anything else as long as they smoothed over the terrain. Frankly, it was good, Elassa did not want any taint of the Grand Arcadia project here. It was a War College, it would be a War College as long as she was its leader and that would last as long as she lived.

  Arascus, predictably, did not take long. He opened the huge wooden door without knocking. Rather embarrassingly, there was a gaggle of magicians who should know better than to try and harass their Emperor about procedure. Arascus walked in, his face turned sour and he made a tiny flick to indicate the lot behind him. Elassa just closed her eyes and waved a few fingers. He slammed the door shut behind himself. “What a greeting.” He said. In full Imperial uniform, he had not wasted a moment getting to Arcadia since arriving in Epa.

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  “Don’t think badly of it.” Elassa said. “Wine?”

  “Are you drinking?”

  “Am I known for sobriety?"

  “Then pour.” Arascus said and one of Elassa’s magical rings began to glow. She had catalysts in her earrings too and sewn into the battledress. The loss of her precious staff had been great and taken some adjustment. Frankly, she had not forgiven Fer for it yet. She doubted she ever would. That didn’t matter though. Fer and her did the same job and Arascus would not be so stupid as to put them together. A cabinet opened by itself as air wrapped around two large glasses and a bottle.

  “I’ll teach them manners after I’m done with actual preparation for the war.”

  “War will give them it anyway. Don’t worry about it.” Arascus said as he pulled up a seat and sat down. “I’ve come to run an inspection on the progress.”

  “I can spare a hundred now, that’s ready. Five full platoons under Kassandora’s scheme.” Supposedly, they were to operate twenty mages in four squads of five.

  “Numbers aren’t the problem.” Arascus said and Elassa contained her smile. He was playing her. She knew he was. Numbers were always the problem. A man would have to be brain-damaged to not want mages in times of peace. A man would have to lack a brain completely to not want mages in times of war. “The National Colleges will supplement the ranks anyway.”

  Elassa only nodded. It was a better system. Mages were smart but there was only so many hours in a day. As much as fools wanted to profess their secretive tricks to learning languages, the simple fact of the matter was that it still required sitting down and battering a dictionary into someone’s head. Lubskan mages should go to Lubskan Divisions simply for the reason that they could understand each other and so on. Arcadia had never and will never be some language school. “Then?” Elassa waved a little finger and the bottle spun in mid-air as the pale diamond on it began to shine. The cork popped and the Goddess poured two healthy glasses of wine for them.

  “Two things.” Arascus said. “First, naval warfare.”

  Elassa sighed already. “We had a deal with this.”

  “Shields are not a secret art.”

  “Anassa has sorcerers.”

  “Not for the ocean.” Arascus said and Elassa sighed. She drank a third of her glass in one go. Arascus merely sipped his. No. Anassa’s magic worked on reactively overwhelming reality through the woman’s own spite.

  “Have they cracked how to do it?” It was more just curiosity.

  “I told her to teach a few. We’re frontline covers already. Magic is more reliable.” Of course it was. Magical shields were controlled procedures that always reacted the same way. A sorcerer’s shield could either just be an impenetrable solid wall of crimson energy that neither side could see or shoot through or it could be an eraser of reality as Anassa herself made them. Either way, it could not be mounted on a ship, waves and water sprays simply overwhelmed both as they had no internal control mechanism.

  “Funny word you pick.” Elassa said. “Reliable.” She liked the sound of it. If she was nothing, she would still be reliable. There was a crash outside. Elassa immediately felt the shift in magical energies shifting. Somehow had overpowered a cloud via incineration, there was no reason to check. Arascus did not even look through the window, he just kept his eyes fixed on Elassa. Perfect. Test passed. When the Goddess of Magic was before one then an exercise in fundamentals was not worth bothering with.

  “Am I lying?” Arascus said. “I don’t want to place them cities.”

  “No, of course not.” Elassa said and sighed, although it was performative. “It’s not difficult, it can be taught, but it would eat into Arcadia’s own time.”

  “Share the knowledge out.” Arascus said seriously and Elassa stared at him. If she was described with an infinite things, then generous would not be one of them.

  “It’s not difficult to figure out.”

  “I’m not asking here.” Arascus said coldly. “I am telling you that I want Principles of Shieldmaking, Guardianmagic, Tomes on Protection, Countering Kassandora and Defensive Siegecraft on public print.” Elassa took a deep breath to try and hide her smile. Arascus knew how to play her alright. There were thousands of books regarding shields but the list he had chosen all had the same author. She was sitting right here, sipping the wine.

  “That’s a fine collection.” Elassa said smugly.

  “It is novice literature.” Arascus replied immediately and Elassa felt herself blush. Damn right it was. Nothing in there was advanced. Those were merely one semester’s worth of reading in Arcadia. “I want them today.”

  “We don’t print extra copies.” Elassa said.

  “That’s the Bureau of Magic’s job.” Arascus replied. “I’m not going to humiliate you by making you write out manuscripts now, am I?”

  “Alright.” Elassa said. Sharing knowledge like this always left a bad taste in her mouth. It was one thing when someone asked for their own development. It was another entirely when she was expected to hand out her own theories free of charge. That had been the big issue in the Grand Arcadia project. Students had been all the knowledge in the world and they decided that they needed none of it. “How are the National Schools doing by the way?” Arascus stared at her for a moment as if he was questioning something. “What?”

  “Do you not check yourself?”

  “Should I?”

  “Not even out of curiosity?”

  “I have poachers for that.”

  “The first wave of graduations will come this month.” Arascus replied. “It’s military support, nothing interesting has been found.” No. Nothing had. Elassa cared little for mages that were being sent off into the meatgrinder. It was just another test one had to go through.

  “I want the pick of the veterans.” Elassa said.

  “Where they go after the war is up to them.”

  “Of course, we’re not looking for burnouts.” Elassa said. “Just don’t give them ideas of settling down as teachers.”

  “Unless it’s in Arcadia?”

  Elassa smiled. Arascus was fast indeed. “Unless it’s in Arcadia.” She said. “How was the UNN by the way?” She had started to enjoy this chat frankly. Arascus was obviously not a White Pantheon creature. That aura of supremacy did not come from him in the same way it did from Maisara or Helenna. He simply sat easily, didn’t bother to complain nor make a useless comment on a wine that was obviously the best in world, and chatted. The demands weren’t ridiculous and it wasn’t an intrusion.

  “It hit Kavaa.” Arascus said. “But it is what it is. She’s been sent off to Kassie now.”

  “And the assassination attempt?”

  “You have an opinion on it?”

  “Idle curiosity.”

  “Someone who doesn’t like us tried to hit us. It was a modern jet, human origin most likely. That may change if we see a Tartarian airforce but I doubt it.”

  “Human or Divine.”

  “Ciria and Halkus have not been ruled out.” Arascus said. “But there’s little to comment on it.”

  “I was just curious.” Elassa said. He passed the test. It was indeed a little and nothing to make a stink about. A Divine couldn’t be really called a Divine unless someone tried to kill them at some point. It simply came with the title in the same manner that teacher a student inevitably came with managing annoyance. Not a grand part, but a part nonetheless. “But I agree.”

  It was annoying that Arascus chuckled at that. Just downright annoying. Annoying because she wanted to chuckle too. “The second is for you.”

  “Oh?” Elassa asked. From the moment she got told that Arascus’ train was coming here and what time it would arrive at, she knew they would be heading down these lines. The Emperor of an empire at war did not have time to visit a school in the furthest reaches of the Empire. “Well?”

  There was no laying things on. No explanations. It was perfect. It was exactly how Elassa liked to be handled. Just getting told what to do and leaving it at that. No need for grandiosities. Magic was already the grandest art on Arda. Any attempt to praise it would already be an insult. Even a child knew what magic was. Their parents coming home from work was just as magical as a fireball weaving around stars in the sky. Arascus didn’t even bother to tantalize with silence. He just dove straight into it. “Tear down Ashen Skies.” Elassa. A being of Worldbreaking. A Goddess who sat on the White Pantheon. The headmistress of Arcadia. A Goddess who had won the Great War. A Goddess that had cracked a Continent. Elassa, Goddess of Magic. There was nothing else to say and yet Arascus still spoke. “How long?”

  “I can’t estimate that.” A ritual circle would be needed. A collection of them. Tearing them down in one part… What phrasing! Not stop, not defeat. Tear down. That was exactly what she wanted to hear. Frankly, it didn’t matter if she was being played or not. “How much of it? A small section, I can do tomorrow.” It wouldn’t even be particularly difficult.

  And Arascus smiled at that. “The whole damn thing.”

  It was the same as when Kassandora had told her to go beyond Worldbreaking. To push and to see if it could be done. No one in the White Pantheon would ever phrase it like that. No. There, it would be about meagre moralistic fancies such as defend Epa or build a barrier or save us! Or some other insult. No. Tearing down the Sky?

  Now that was something worth doing.

  If for no reason, then to prove it could be done.

  “It shall be done.”