The Greatest Sin

Mages cannot be allowed to exercise their power. The tyrannical magocracies of the past are a natural result of their longevity and strength. Any country not dominated by them will reduce them to a workhorse slave class. We have seen in the past, any country that does neither will be eclipsed and collapsed by the nations that do. Co-existence between the mundane and the magical is as farcical as a Divine sharing a roof with a mortal.

For the sake of peace and stability, magicians have to be removed from mundane society. Combat Arts will serve no purpose in the world we are building. Re-integration attempts will be made every fifty years, until then, Goddess Elassa will guide them...

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

The White Pantheon’s Doctrines: Magicians and Magic

Elassa sat in her headmaster’s office. Through the open window, the grey ash of Arcadia was beginning to turn green, floromancers were working roots to bury the ash underground. Flowers were spring up, classes 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 to forges. It reminded Elassa of her armies of magicians 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 commonplace. It was still a tragedy when someone died, but a common tragedy. Now, just looking at these weary faces, at them jump every time someone dropped a stone. At the way they peered around corners, at them sitting in silence, wrapped in cloaks and hands around hot cups of drink.

Even back then, refugees who escaped the claws of Fer’s hordes would seem happier with life. Elassa 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, Elassa knew he had slept, but he still looked tired.

The nature and fire mages were the worst hit. The massacre at the floromancy dorm 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 Elassa had only glanced at before. Elassa tapped her fingers as they took their seats around the huge table the Goddess of Magic had prepared. It was a simple stone thing, merely pulled out of the floor, something this large would have been impossible to fit through the doors.

Around them hung the flags of Arcadia, white with a ring of blue in the middle. Elassa had designed that flag 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 lamps did too. Elassa waved her finger, the white diamond that topped off her staff flashed and the window closed.

Out went Arcadia’s smell of ash, out went the winds and the quiet conversations. The orders being shouted and the dins of construction. And in came silence. Elassa looked to the magicians. Even sitting down, she towered over them. She was average in terms of Divine heights, 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.

Elassa stared at their reactions. A few went pale as they reminisced that night Fer had appeared, one of the geomancy witches looked as if she was going to throw up. Several eyes went to the table. Elassa 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 was approaching. Those were warriors.

And these? Not even children. A different species of human entirely. She wished she knew how Kassandora managed to so quickly awaken that beast of violence within man. “We have taken losses.” Elassa said again, from the disorganisation in the rebuilding, she doubted anyone but her had the full picture of the damage. “Six thousand, two hundred and thirty eight are dead. Another eight thousand are wounded. Five hundred and eleven mages burned themselves out.” Fried their magical circuitry beyond repair. They had become mundane. “Another two 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.” Elassa took a heavy breath as she finished.

Maisara and Fortia and Allasaria could give figures like this and then finish off with some heroic conclusion. Elassa 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 violence. It did not. Losses were taken, and more would come, and the world would keep turning.

It was nothing to be happy about, but it wasn’t anything to beat herself over either. It happened. The 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, and neither have they. A thousand years of being kept sheathed did little to dull a blade after all.

Maybe she had just assumed that they wouldn’t modern machinery? That they would fight as a thousand years back then? Elassa sighed. It was too much to think about. “Pyromancy and floromancy make up half total lost, the other departments were hit less.” Elassa 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.” Elassa stood up. That woman was a walking nightmare through and through, she had even tried to claim dominion over Elassa’s name once. To think Elassa had once called her a sister.

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

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

Elassa moved her white-wood staff slightly and a pile of sand emerged from two jars in the corners. She always used this for demonstrations. It hovered through the air and settled onto the table. “For all intents 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.”

Elassa scanned the reactions. Pale gaunt faces in shock, some of them trembled. These were supposedly the people who led the others. She silently changed her estimates from three months to six. Elassa tapped her staff against the floor and the sand formed a tiny model of Arcadia. All its buildings and all its hill and forests. Even the tiny little flags waved on the wind. The fact this was considered impressive was a shame. “What does a return to war entail?” The buildings toppled as flames 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 Elassa tapped her fingers along the white-wood in her hand. “I ask now, and I demand an answer, what is Arcadia?”

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

“Wrong.” Elassa 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 for mag-“

“Wrong.” Elassa interrupted again. And again, another figure.

“A conglomeration of leylines in or-“

“Wrong.”

“The White Pantheon’s place for magicians.”

“Wrong.” Elassa gave them a minute. They 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 bastions. Extending the definition of fortress to Arcadia just because it was unassailable would extend it to Olephia and Neneria. They were mere pocket armies, not fortresses.

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

“Wrong.” Elassa sighed. They would never get it, mages in the past would have got it on the first try. “Arcadia is a war college.” Elassa 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 race on Arda. That is why we teach magic only one step away from combat arts.” The two figures threw balls of fire at each other. They collapsed then resurfaced.

One of the figures merely waved a wand this time. The other set alight immediately. Elassa repeated the show with the other elements. Throwing water, then merely a spike made of water condensed from the air impale the other’s head. Rocks being thrown, then the ground swallowing. Winds howling, then a slicing sword of air. The magicians 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 back into 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 founded the War College of Arcadia. That is the true name of this land: Not Arcadia, the land of magical refuge, not Arcadia, chronicler 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 last War College of magic on this world.” The name came second on purpose. It had been designed that way.

Elassa then pointed to the flag. “That is our modern flag, who knows what it represents?” They had the answer immediately this time. A wizard spoke up without even raising his hand.

“White for piece and harmony in the world, blue for the magic within it.” Elassa nodded slowly.

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

Elassa tapped the stand and a cabinet in the other corner opened. A purple piece of fabric opened. Elassa had seen it many times before, she would retreat to this room, unfurl it, and relive those fond memories of greatness before Allasaria brought order to the world. How many times had she done that? Too many for it be healthy. It spread out behind her, she didn’t even need to look at it to know what it was.

Purple background with five bolts of lightning cracking a red sphere. “What is this?” Elassa asked. She knew they wouldn’t know, but she hoped… It was in vain, they stared blank faced at the flag. “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 continents 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 cracking it. It is my war banner.”

Elassa 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 inefficiency. Pantheon Peace was needed for the continued 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 blades.

She tapped the staff again. Another ancient relic floated from her cabinet and settled on the table. They wouldn’t understand the ancient language of course, but that didn’t matter. Copies for the magicians floated for them. “Arascus will declare war on us, sooner than later. We have been caught out once. We will not be caught out again. Next time Fer appears at our gates, we will leave nothing but ashes of her.”

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

Elassa knew the text off by heart. It had been written during the very first of Fer’s brutal incursions, eight hundred years before the Great War, when Kassandora and Allasaria 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 magicians into the military and developed war-magic into the beast it became. This document 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?” Elassa 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 lake. Elassa looked at her own original copy and read the title.

“The Philosophy of Killing Magic. Co-written by Goddess Kassandora and Goddess Elassa.” Elassa smiled as she read the foreword, she still remembered that argument about how Kassandora was being too brutal on Elassa’s magicians 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. Elassa has rather grimly edited down my thoughts on magicians throughout the document, so I will put it here, much to her dismay. The issue with the mages of today is show-combat. 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. Combat magic should be called theatre play because that is all it is, there is no intention of harm behind it, no want to kill. The whole point of warfare is to be the last 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 luck in recruiting the local town drunks to kill the king than I would if I tried to convince a lazy, pretentious, good-for-nothing, self-serving, arrogant, pestilent, gluttonous, pompous, most-likely-alcoholic, vice-indulging, gloating, smug, superior, moralistic magician to so much as rise before dawn in the morning.”

“There is a philosophical saying: ‘I think, therefore I am’. The existence of magicians proves this statement wrong. All mages do is think, and yet they are not.” Elassa remembered how adamant Kassandora was in not removing that foreword, and she was glad that Kassandora had convinced her not to. The Goddess of Magic looked up from her document 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 document, and to start teaching it once classes 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.”

Elassa slammed her staff again and more papers flew before the magicians. “This is the new curriculum. It was designed for three months, but make it six.” Elassa didn’t like it, every day given to Kassandora was a week the Goddess of War would demand paid back in blood, but Elassa would rather her army not be wiped out at the first encounter. “I designed it myself. All classes, all tests, everything in the schedule will be removed from today. I will announce it in the evening to Arcadia at large.”

Elassa monitored the expressions again. Nothing that she hadn’t seen before. All shocked faces and the usual. “Like I said, war is coming 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. Elassa gave him permission to speak with a wave of her staff.

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

“Then, we take down the white and blue and fly the red and purple.”

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