The rest of Edwin’s party was standing around the closed door, Salissa’s hand hovering centimeters from the silver lines.

Edwin angrily stomped down the corridor, face darkened by storm clouds.

“What’s going on, Edwin?” Bordan asked as Edwin marched past him. “Why…”

He grabbed Salissa’s hand, pulling her away from the wall.

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND?” Edwin thundered. “Every child knows that you don’t touch unknown rituals. It’s literally the first thing they tell you in ritualism class. Are you really that stupid or were you trying to kill the three of you on purpose?”

Salissa was retreating from him, shock and guilt on her face, and Bordan put a calming hand on Edwin’s arm.

“Edwin, calm down. She didn’t do anything. Why don’t you take a step back and tell us what the hell’s going on?”

Edwin let go of Salissa’s arm, actually stepping back against the cool wall of the corridor. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, then continued to speak in a more controlled voice.

“What’s going on is that you three just almost died. I would’ve survived it because I was down the hall, but none of you would’ve made it.”

He let that hang in the air for a moment, then continued.

“Since you two don’t know much about magic, and Salissa was apparently never even taught the basics of ritualism, let me start at the beginning. Do you know where rituals come from?”

Bordan gave him a dirty look, clearly not happy on being quizzed in this tense situation, but Leodin jumped in.

“The Pioneers, right?”

“Correct. When our ancestors arrived here, the idea of transcribing magical effects through runes was completely unknown to them. When they first found Pioneer ruins, they came across these.”

Edwin pointed at the door, silver runes sparkling in the light.

“The history on how they deciphered their meanings, learned to replicate the rituals they found and finally even to innovate with runes themselves is long and riveting, but I’ll just assume that none of you care about that and skip to what’s important right now. There was one factor that made the job of those early researchers much harder, and something that led to more than a few accidental deaths. We now know that there are two sets of runes. To the trained eye, the two are easy to tell apart, but to a layman they look pretty much identical.“

“They are called Simplified Pioneer Runic and Pioneer Ritual Runic”

“Historians nowadays assume that rituals evolved out of the Pioneers’ normal script, the simplified one, although they aren’t completely certain which one came first. In any case, Ritual Runic is the script mages use to create rituals. Every line and every rune has a specific effect and must be perfectly drawn and aligned, otherwise the ritual doesn’t work, or worse, does something else entirely. That means that although Ritual Runic is a script, it isn’t really useful for writing anything.”

Edwin pointed at the door.

“For that purpose, the Pioneers used Simplified Runic. Some of the runes are the same, some are different or don’t exist in the other script, but the largest difference is the layout. Where ritual runic has stringent laws that govern what goes where and how the lines need to be drawn, Simplified Runic doesn’t. That allows the writer much more freedom, like making jokes, rhymes, or anything else you might want to do in writing.”

“The problem is that both scripts have the same circle shape. In rituals, it’s a question of containing the mana pressure. In Simplified Runic that’s just how it is – like we write from left to right, in lines one above the other, they write in a circle, usually inside to outside. Except where ritual circles are carefully laid out to contain and direct the mana that flows through it, Simplified Runic does none of that.”

“As the early researchers found out, and as you were about to learn as well, if you push mana into Simplified Runic, at least nine out of ten times it explodes. Violently. Vaporizing everything around it.”

Edwin let that sink in, the expressions on the faces of his companions turning slightly ill as they regarded the innocent silver lines that had almost killed them.

“And this is what makes me wonder.” Edwin continued, his voice dangerously quiet. “I’ve been more than surprised at the gaps in Salissa’s knowledge, but most of them could’ve been explained by her having horrible teachers, or her just being an absolute miserable student. But this? I know for a fact that the very first lesson on ritualism a student at the College receives is how to tell Simplified Runic and Advanced Runic apart, and passing that course is a requirement to even take the Apprentice exams, let alone the Journeyman ones. So I have to wonder, Salissa, how are you here if you quite clearly didn’t attend the College?”

“I did!” Salissa said, crossing her arms in defiance.

Edwin just raised an eyebrow.

Bordan put a hand on the mage’s arm.

“Salissa, it’s fine. We’re your friends. Whatever is going on, you can tell us.”

Salissa stepped to the side to shake off Bordan’s hand, then leaned against the wall and slid down until she sat on the ground. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, and after a few seconds she mumbled something not even Edwin’s enhanced ears could pick out.

Bordan crouched down next to her.

“Look, we’ll help you with whatever is going on, but if you’re a rogue we need to know. It’s dangerous for…”

“I got expelled, okay?”

“…that can happen?” Bordan asked, looking at Edwin in confusion.

“Uhm…” Edwin said, racking his brain. “I don’t think so.”

The College wasn’t a normal school, it was more of a community. Their job was to make sure that all mages had their powers under control and were educated, some might even say indoctrinated, in the nonviolent and non-interference rules that pertained to them.

In practice that meant that quick students completed their education in the minimum amount of time required and went on to study further in a field of their choice, becoming researchers, teachers, healers, architects or any number of prestigious professions open to them. The slower ones, the troublemakers or those that had no interest in actually pursuing magic took longer to finish their education.

If they failed a test, they needed to retake it, repeating a course or even a year if the gaps in their knowledge were too severe. If a student showed signs that he couldn’t make the cut on his own, he was assigned tutors. Even the densest student was dragged through the curriculum, kicking and screaming if necessary. Those usually finished their Journeyman exam, albeit with low marks, and turned their backs on the College, returning to their old lives and making a living like a mundane or becoming village mages like the one at Newmark.

Every now and again there was a student who couldn’t conform to the College’s structure. They challenged teachers, fought with their classmates or continuously left the grounds without permission. Usually, the ramping punishments and increasing supervision got them to fall in line eventually, but sometimes their rebellious streak was just too strong, or they violently lashed out. If they didn’t reform by the time they were considered adults at sixteen, it didn’t matter that they were still students.

The laws on the abuse of magic were clear, and several of them carried a death sentence. The Inquisition made damn sure that no mage was allowed to freely roam the land without assurances that they would follow the rules.

Never in Walter’s decades at the College had he heard of a student being expelled. They either left with a diploma, or very rarely, in a box.

Edwin lowered himself to the floor.

“How is that possible?” He asked. “The College can’t expel students, that would go against their most basic duties.”

Salissa pulled in her legs and hugged her knees.

“…I almost killed a classmate.”

The other three exchanged worried glances, and Bordan and Leodin sat down as well. All eyes were on Salissa.

“Fine.” She said quietly. “I’ll tell you what happened. I guess I better start at the beginning, though.”