Mages ot be allowed to exercise their power. The tyrannical magocracies of the past are a natural result of their loy and strength. Any try not dominated by them will reduce them to a workhorse sve css. We have seen in the past, any try that does her will be eclipsed and colpsed by the nations that do. Co-existeween the mundane and the magical is as farcical as a Divine sharing a roof with a mortal.

  For the sake of pead stability, magis have to be removed from mundane society. bat Arts will serve no purpose in the world we are building. Re-iion attempts will be made every fifty years, until then, Goddess Essa will guide them...

  …The War College of Arcadia will be expanded into their own nation which will serve as a refuge for the magically ined…

  The White Pantheon’s Does: Magis and Magic

  Essa sat in her headmaster’s office. Through the open window, the grey ash of Arcadia was beginning treen, floromancers were w roots to bury the ash underground. Flowers were spring up, csses had not returned yet, instead students were being tasked with helping repair the ruined dorms. Logs were shattered into beams of woods, streams were being guided tes. It reminded Essa of her armies of magis in the war.

  But then, it was nothing like that. Those mages would lose their own limbs and wake up wanting more. Back then, every family had lost a member here and there, death was o was still a tragedy when someone died, but a edy. Now, just looking at these weary faces, at them jump every time someone dropped a sto the way they peered around ers, at them sitting in silence, ed in cloaks and hands around hot cups of drink.

  Even back then, refugees who escaped the cws of Fer’s hordes would seem happier with life. Essa turned away, her chair spinning as she came to face the people she had called. Every school and elements had brought the five highest-ranking members of staff. Some were faces she knew, Dominic Whitaker was one of them. The man had gloom hang in the air around him, Essa knew he had slept, but he still looked tired.

  The nature and fire mages were the worst hit. The massacre at the floroman rooms had wiped out every high-ranking mage there. The pyromancers had lost half. All in all, for every five people in the room, two were a face Essa had only g before. Essa tapped her fingers as they took their seats around the huge table the Goddess of Magic had prepared. It was a simple stohing, merely pulled out of the floor, something this rge would have been impossible to fit through the doors.

  Around them hung the fgs of Arcadia, white with a ring of blue in the middle. Essa had desighat fg herself, a thousand years ago when Arcadia had grown into a nation. She had donned dark blue today, Great War battledress colours, it fit her mood. The dress itself ended below her shoulders, but then a shawl around her neck maintained modesty. Her staff hovered in the air to her side, the mps did too. Essa waved her fihe white diamond that topped off her staff fshed and the window closed.

  Out went Arcadia’s smell of ash, out went the winds and the quiet versations. The orders being shouted and the dins of stru. And in came silence. Essa looked to the magis. Even sitting down, she towered over them. She was average in terms of Divis, but among mortals? The tallest man was lucky to reach her chest. She began in a slow tone. “Arcadia has been attacked.” That much was obvious, but something had to set the mood.

  Essa stared at their reas. A few went pale as they remihat night Fer had appeared, one of the geomancy witches looked as if she was going to throw up. Several eyes went to the table. Essa wished she had her old mages back. The men who would shrug when told Olephia had vaporized a city, who smiled when they heard Fer roag. Those were warriors.

  And these? Not even children. A different species of humairely. She wished she knew how Kassandora mao so quickly awaken that beast of violehin man. “We have taken losses.” Essa said again, from the disanisation in the rebuilding, she doubted a her had the full picture of the damage. “Six thousand, two hundred and thirty eight are dead. Anht thousand are wounded. Five hundred and eleven mages burhemselves out.” Fried their magical circuitry beyond repair. They had beundane. “Awo thousand are still missing. Of those figures, floromancy took the biggest hit with a third of all losses. Students make up the bulk of the figures.” Essa took a heavy breath as she finished.

  Maisara and Fortia and Alsaria could give figures like this and then finish off with some heroiclusion. Essa merely gave the figures. She didn’t know what to feel, the fact they were attacked brought anger, but the losses themselves were a statistic. She had seen too many wars through the ages. She had assumed that a thousand years of Peace would have re-sensitized her to viole did not. Losses were taken, and more would e, and the world would keep turning.

  It was nothing to be happy about, but it wasn’t anything to beat herself over either. It happehe real damage came from the fact she should have been prepared for this the moment she saw Kassandora and Fer and Arascus on the news. She hadn’t been dulled to warfare, aher have they. A thousand years of bei sheathed did little to dull a bde after all.

  Maybe she had just assumed that they wouldn’t modern maery? That they would fight as a thousand years back then? Essa sighed. It was too much to think about. “Pyromand floromancy make up half total lost, the other departments were hit less.” Essa looked at her supposed elites again, and they all made dire expressions. A table of pacifists, that was it.

  “Additionally, Anassa of Sorcery has been freed. She was kept imprisoned in the Divine Library. The Library is no more and Anassa is most likely in Arika, along with Arascus.” Essa stood up. That woman was a walking nightmare through and through, she had even tried to cim dominion over Essa’s name oo think Essa had once called her a sister.

  Essa’s staff moved into her hands and she smmed the butt into the floor. “What does this mean?” It was a rhetorical question, she gave the answer immediately. “We have firmation of Anassa, Fer, Olephia and Neneria.” Four walking apocalypses. “They are led by Kassandora and Arascus.” The pn was too to be anything but Kass’ doing. “We have a split Pantheon, with Helenna, Kavaa and Iniri for all is and purposes allied with Arascus. That means the huhousand Clerics of Kavaa serve him now.”

  Tomorrow, Essa would return to the mountain and formally take the Clerics off the list of saned Orders. Freeing Kassandora was ohing, those three girls had always been weak. It was natural that they would g onto a more powerful being to have leverage in discussions. But attag her? Blood called for blood. “The darkfurs that were present are creations of Anassa and Fer w in tandem. We have been culling their numbers over the years, but we expe uptick from today. Anassa also facilitates the forced mutation into beastmen.”

  Essa moved her white-wood staff slightly and a pile of sand emerged from two jars in the ers. She always used this for demonstrations. It hovered through the air aled onto the table. “For all is and purposes, Arda is heading into another war. Kassandora and Arascus alone would be enough to make sure of that, the other Divines simply make it even more certain.”

  Essa sed the reas. Pale gaunt faces in shock, some of them trembled. These were supposedly the people who led the others. She silently ged her estimates from three months to six. Essa tapped her staff against the floor and the sand formed a tiny model of Arcadia. All its buildings and all its hill and forests. Eveiny little fgs waved on the wind. The fact this was sidered impressive was a shame. “What does a return to war entail?” The buildings toppled as fmes burst out over the sound. “That.”

  More sand flew into the air and made a giant paw, it smashed the rest of the standing buildings. “As it is, Arcadia is not a fighting force.” A spike burst through that sand as Essa tapped her fingers along the white-wood in her hand. “I ask now, and I demand an answer, what is Arcadia?”

  Her magis looked at each other. It took a good minute for one man to raise his hand. Essa indicated to him with her staff. “It is a pce of learning an-“

  “Wrong.” Essa cut him off. This time the wait wasn’t so long, a woman raised her hand. Dressed in blue, one of the hydromancers.

  “A refuge f-“

  “Wrong.” Essa interrupted again. And again, anure.

  “A glomeration of leylines in or-“

  “Wrong.”

  “The White Pantheon’s pagis.”

  “Wrong.” Essa gave them a mihey were out. No one knew, she withheld her tutting. She was a teacher, it was her job to teach. “You are thinking too modern.” Another woman raised her hand.

  “It was the White Pantheon’s fortre-“

  “Wrong.” Arcadia was no fortress, it had no walls and bastioending the definition of fortress to Arcadia just because it was unassaible would extend it to Olephia and Neneria. They were mere pocket armies, not fortresses.

  “Your school Goddess.” A man said. Close, but no.

  “Wrong.” Essa sighed. They would never get it, mages in the past would have got it on the first try. “Arcadia is a war college.” Essa gave a tiny flick of her staff and the sand made two figures in robes. “Arcadia has always and will always be a war college. Pantheon Peace is irrelevant in this situation, mages have always and will always be the foremost defender of every mortal ra Arda. That is why we teach magily oep away from bat arts.” The two figures threw balls of fire at each other. They colpsed then resurfaced.

  One of the figures merely waved a wand this time. The other set alight immediately. Essa repeated the show with the other elements. Throwing water, then merely a spike made of water densed from the air impale the other’s head. Rocks being thrown, then the ground swallowing. Winds howling, then a slig sword of air. The magis looked on in horror. “This has always been the purpose of Arcadia. We know of Paraideisius and Tartarus, we keep peace with them. If they ever invaded Arda, it would be up to Arcadia to stop them.”

  Anassa whisked the sand bato its jars. “If anyone else but me told you this, then I would expect you not to believe them. But I am telling you this. I am the Goddess of Magic, I fouhe War College of Arcadia. That is the true name of this nd: Not Arcadia, the nd of magical refuge, not Arcadia, icler of the world, not Arcadia, home of magic. This is The War College of Arcadia. It always has been, it always will be. It is the first, and it is the st War College of magi this world.” The name came sed on purpose. It had been desighat way.

  Essa then poio the fg. “That is our m, who knows what it represents?” They had the answer immediately this time. A wizard spoke up without even raising his hand.

  “White for pied harmony in the world, blue for the magic within it.” Essa nodded slowly.

  “Correct. I desighat fg a thousand years ago. It has remained uned, the ones here are still the ones weaved by my hand.” She tapped her staff and they fell from the walls. “No more.”

  Essa tapped the stand and a et iher er opened. A purple piece of fabric opened. Essa had seen it many times before, she would retreat to this room, unfurl it, and relive those fond memories of greatness before Alsaria brought order to the world. How many times had she dohat? Too many for it be healthy. It spread out behind her, she didn’t eveo look at it to know what it was.

  Purple background with five bolts of lightning crag a red sphere. “What is this?” Essa asked. She khey wouldn’t know, but she hoped… It was in vain, they stared bnk faced at the fg. “It is my banner. My banner during the Great War and during the ages before it.” It had been made during the chaos of worldbreaking, when magic had ran rampant and created the tis of Arda as they stood. “Royal purple for the majesty of magic, the red for blood spilled, the sphere is Arda, the lightning above it is magic crag it. It is my war banner.”

  Essa tied off the threads of magic holding her banner. It was freeing. She had never been like Fortia and Maisara, who would bark at Pantheon Peace for its inefficy. Pantheon Peace was needed for the tinued survival of Arda. But there were times when she missed the ages of the past. She imagined knights had the same feeling when they were finally allowed to draw their bdes.

  She tapped the staff again. Another a relic floated from her et aled oable. They wouldn’t uand the a nguage of course, but that didn’t matter. Copies for the magis floated for them. “Arascus will decre war on us, soohan ter. We have been caught out once. We will not be caught out agaiime Fer appears at ates, we will leave nothing but ashes of her.”

  It still disgusted her that a try full of mages could be so brazenly assault by beastmen. She looked at the expression as they read through the dot. Nervous eyes and pale faces as blood drained from them. Och finally spoke. “This… isn’t this…?” She couldn’t finish the question.

  Essa khe text off by heart. It had been written during the very first of Fer’s brutal incursio hundred years before the Great War, when Kassandora and Alsaria were still known as the twin Goddesses of Victory. Mortal armies could not fend off beastmen back then, the only reason humanity had survived that grand invasion was because Kassandora had drafted magis into the military and developed war-magito the beast it became. This dot may very well have been part of the kindling used to start the fires of the Great War. “Which part do you take issue with?” Essa asked promptly. She tried not to sound like an angry teacher, but it was difficult.

  “All of it.” The woman said. Old, withered, haggard. A waste of talent is what she was. A woman like that in the past should have been able to raise her own mountain, now this middling hydromancer could barely move a ke. Essa looked at her own inal copy ahe title.

  “The Philosophy of Killing Magic. Co-written by Goddess Kassandora and Goddess Essa.” Essa smiled as she read the foreword, she still remembered that argument about how Kassandora was being too brutal on Essa’s magis with such text. Kassandora had not known back then, but she was writing something for a millennia in advance. “Foreword written by Goddess Kassandora alone. Essa has rather grimly edited down my thoughts on magis throughout the dot, so I will put it here, much to her dismay. The issue with the mages of today is show-bat. I look at wizards and witches and see swords never drawn, bows never loaded and axes never sharpened. I see such potential wasted on such heaps of living garbage. bat magic should be called theatre py because that is all it is, there is no iion of harm behind it, no want to kill. The whole point of warfare is to be the st man standing. If I wanted a show of force, I would rather recruit peasantry and dress them up in armour than hire a mage. There is a reason mages are absent from my armies, and that is because I know that even though a group of them have the potential to destroy a city, I will have better lu recruiting the local town drunks to kill the king than I would if I tried to vince a zy, pretentious, good-for-nothing, self-serving, arrogant, pestilent, gluttonous, pompous, most-likely-alcoholic, vidulging, gloating, smug, superior, moralistic magi to so much as rise before dawn in the m.”

  “There is a philosophical saying: ‘I think, therefore I am’. The existenagis proves this statement wrong. All mages do is think, ahey are not.” Essa remembered how adamant Kassandora was in not removing that foreword, and she was gd that Kassandora had vinced her not to. The Goddess of Magic looked up from her dot and at the group. “This is who we are fighting. This is what Kassandora thinks about you. This is not some vain caricature of Kassandora, these are her words. I want all of you to study this dot, and to start teag it once csses restart. This is who we are fighting, you will not like it, I do not expect you to like, but let me tell you this, whatever qualms you have with your morality will quickly fade away when you see how Kassandora wages wars.”

  Essa smmed her staff again and more papers flew before the magis. “This is the new curriculum. It was designed for three months, but make it six.” Essa didn’t like it, every day given to Kassandora was a week the Goddess of War would demand paid ba blood, but Essa would rather her army not be wiped out at the first enter. “I desig myself. All csses, all tests, everything in the schedule will be removed from today. I will annou in the evening to Arcadia at rge.”

  Essa monitored the expressions again. Nothing that she hadn’t seen before. All shocked faces and the usual. “Like I said, war is ing to Arda, we will not be caught off guard. You have six months. Any questions?” One man, a pyromancer in a red shawl, raised his hand. Essa gave him permission to speak with a wave of her staff.

  He asked the question as if unsure of himself. Essa smiled, pyromancers were always like that, always the first to be willing to let fmes loose. There was a tiny hint of excitement in his voice, hidden and held bader shock. “What then? In six months?” Essa’s staff brushed against war banner h behind her.

  “Theake down the white and blue and fly the red and purple.”

  - - End of Arc 4: Goodbye, Pantheon Peace. Hello, Divine War - -