2. Some Lessons Belong in the Classroom

Students of various races and magical talents gather in the lecture chamber for their first day of classes.

Professor Lirien Callavane, a female goliath, strides to the podium, her robes shimmering faintly with protective runes. Standing nearly seven feet tall, her imposing stature and the faintly marbled gray patterns on her skin immediately capture everyone's attention. You were definitely not expecting it. Misthaven University is really a cosmopolitan place. Her voice, when she begins, is calm and resonant.



"Good morning, students, and welcome to Introduction to Magical Ethics. Today, you embark on a journey that will likely challenge everything you think you know—not only about magic, but about yourselves. Ethics is the invisible thread binding all acts of magic. It is the compass that determines whether you wield power as a healer or a tyrant, a creator or a destroyer. But today, I will narrow our focus to one central question—a question that has long divided the scholars of the Arcane Eloquence Institute: What is the purpose of the Amplifico spells?"

"Is it, as some of my colleagues argue, a noble art devoted to improving and uplifting others? Is Amplifico the eloquent school that inspires unity, sows wisdom, and builds bridges between the fractured corners of our world? Or is it a more pragmatic tool, driven by personal ambition—a means to convince, persuade, and, perhaps, manipulate in the pursuit of one’s own desires?"

"Before we dive deeper, let's begin with a more mundane skill… Take literature, for example. A beautifully wrought tale might teach moral lessons, comforting and enriching its readers. Yet, is that truly its aim? Or does the author, consciously or unconsciously, seek recognition, profit, and immortality through their words? Can the two be separated? Can self-interest coexist with altruism?"

"As budding scholars of the arcane, this debate is not merely theoretical. When you cast a spell, every incantation, every gesture, and every intention carries a lot of weight. A simple communication charm meant to diffuse tension could inadvertently reveal secrets. A persuasive enchantment might bolster alliances—or compromise autonomy. Ethics lives at the intersection of your choices and their consequences."

"In this class, you will learn not only to examine the spells you cast and the words you speak, but also the intentions behind them. You will challenge your assumptions and confront uncomfortable truths. Because make no mistake: magic amplifies everything, and when wielded carelessly, it can cause irreparable harm."

"I will start with a question that will frame our first discussion: If we cannot separate self-interest from altruism in others, does that make all acts of magical expression inherently selfish—or inherently selfless?"

"During this semester, I expect you to think deeply, argue boldly, and, above all, listen to one another. Debate is the lifeblood of the Arcane Eloquence Institute, but so too is understanding."

Professor Callavane steps back, surveying the room with a faint, enigmatic smile, as the hum of animated discussion begins to ripple among the students.

After a couple of minutes, Professor Callavane writes a scenario on the board in neat, flowing script. She then turns to the class and gestures to the scenario with a flick of her wrist, causing it to shimmer with faint golden light.Then, she addresses the class:

"This exercise will form the foundation of our first discussion. Split into groups of 4 and decide your course of action. Consider the ethical implications of each choice and how they reflect your view of magical communication—selfless aid or strategic influence? Be prepared to defend your decision and challenge the arguments of others."

"Remember: the goal is not to win, but to uncover the truth as you see it. Now, let us see if Eloquence can illuminate your path forward."

Before the groups are formed, Kiraen raises a hand with a question. "Mistress, that scenario have already placed one ethnicity burden on our shoulders: That we have to act in this matter and take responsibility for these villagers"

Professor Callavane’s sharp eyes glint with interest as the student speaks, and she lets the room fall quiet before responding.

"An astute observation," she begins. "By presenting you with this scenario, I have indeed made an implicit assumption: that your power and knowledge impose a certain responsibility. But let us examine that assumption together."

"Should the wielder of magic—or, in broader terms, the bearer of any extraordinary ability—feel compelled to act when they witness suffering? Or do they have the right to turn away, as any other bystander might? Is responsibility inherently tied to power, or is it something we choose to take on?"

She takes a step forward, scanning the room.

"Perhaps you feel that this burden has been unfairly placed on you. If so, I challenge you to explore why that is within your group. Is it because I have stripped the villagers of their agency in this narrative, reducing them to a problem you must solve? Or is it because you recognize, deep down, that you could act, and that knowledge makes inaction uncomfortable?"

"Consider also the ethical implications of your refusal. If you choose not to intervene, does that absolve you of responsibility for the consequences? Or does the very fact that you have the ability to make a difference mean that you are, in some way, complicit in what follows? Is responsibility a burden to be avoided—or a privilege of the capable? And how does magic fit into this framework? Does it empower you, or does it create undue expectations?"

As the discussions ripple through the lecture hall, Professor Callavane begins tracing an intricate pattern in the air. The runes on her robes pulse softly as she speaks in a low, measured tone.

"Veritas Amplifico. Eloquium infinitum."

A gentle golden light radiates outward from her, dissolving into shimmering motes that dance briefly before vanishing. When the professor speaks again, it is not louder, but somehow everywhere, her voice carrying as if she stands within each group at once.

"I have cast an Amplifico and Illusio spell. You will find that my words reach you all, and that I can follow your discussions simultaneously. Let us use this to refine our understanding."

She turns toward Zix, Kiraen, Marlena, and Dorian, addressing their table as if she were there in person.

"Zix has raised an important concern: We are debating with incomplete information. But in real life, we rarely, if ever, have perfect knowledge. So, let me ask you—if you were in this village, at this moment, what would you need to know before deciding? Would you seek out the merchant's background, their debts, their moral character? Would you investigate the villagers—who is starving first, and why? How does uncertainty shape your choices? Must we act despite not knowing everything, or is inaction just as much of a decision as intervention?"

She pauses, allowing the weight of the question to settle before shifting her focus. Her gaze flickers to Marlena.

"You argue that using Dominatio as a backup plan makes it no different from using it outright. I commend your clarity. But consider this: Do degrees of coercion matter?"

The light in the room seems to dim just slightly as she steps forward, her voice carrying a note of challenge. You feel a powerful magic coming from her.

"We persuade people all the time—with rhetoric, with incentives, with social pressure. Imagine a king urging a noble house to support a treaty. He may appeal to their sense of duty, offer them wealth, or remind them of past favors. At what point does persuasion become coercion? Don't minimize the power of Amplifico... If I cast a spell to make myself irresistibly persuasive, am I not, in a way, bending another’s will? If my magic words compel you to act, is that truly different from forcing you outright? Or is the illusion of choice enough to preserve moral integrity?"

Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes shine with the intensity of a teacher who relishes the complexity of the lesson.

Professor Callavane listens with measured patience, her expression unreadable.When the Critic caws, her lips quirk ever so slightly in what might be amusement—or repproval.

Then, she speaks, her voice steady but carrying the weight of authority.

"Zix, you raise a valid concern. I have indeed introduced complex ethical dilemmas without first equipping you with the full arsenal of philosophical frameworks that might be used to navigate them. But I do so deliberately."

She steps forward, folding her hands behind her back.

"Over the course of this semester, you will study consequentialism, virtue ethics, deontology, care ethics, and more. You will be asked to analyze this very scenario from each perspective, crafting essays that argue for different courses of action based on those theories. In time, you will learn to wield these ethical tools as confidently as you would any spell."

She pauses, letting her words settle before continuing.

"But that time is not today. Today, I am not asking for your future selves—the ones who will have spent weeks dissecting moral philosophy and refining their reasoning. Today, I am asking you, as you are now, to decide. Not as theoretical ethicists, but as young mages standing on the precipice of real-world responsibility. As for your concerns about persuasion and free will, you are correct: the answers to those questions hinge on deeper metaphysical inquiries—compatibilism, determinism, libertarian free will. And you are right that these answers, if known, would change the landscape of moral philosophy entirely."

A glimmer of something sharp enters her gaze—an acknowledgment of Zix’s intellectual challenge.

"But those questions are not settled. If they were, we would not be standing here debating them. Philosophers and arcanists alike have grappled with them for centuries, and no consensus has emerged. So tell me, Zix—if certainty eludes us, if the foundations of ethics remain contested, does that grant us permission to do nothing? Or must we act despite the ambiguity, forging our path through reasoned intuition and personal conviction?"

She allows a moment of silence, then adds, more gently.

"At the end of the semester, I will ask you to revisit this scenario. You will analyze it again, but this time, armed with the ethical theories you will have studied. You will argue not just from your present self, but from the perspective of the mage you are becoming."

Her sharp gaze softens slightly.

"But before you can test your beliefs against philosophy, you must first know what you are. So, tell me—if this were now, if this were real—what would you do?"

Professor Callavane listens carefully to Kiraen’s quiet admission. She studies the drow student with an expression neither pitying nor patronizing—just understanding.

"You are here," she acknowledges, her voice calm but firm. "That alone is a choice. One that many in your position might not have made. You will not be judged in this class for what you were taught as a child, only for what you choose to become."

She meets Kiraen’s gaze directly, a steadying presence. "Ethics will not be your easiest course, but difficulty does not equate to failure. What matters is that you engage, question, and reflect. That is all I ask of you—and, I suspect, all you ask of yourself."

With a slight nod of acknowledgment, she turns back to the group at large.

---

"It seems you have reached a consensus. Amplifico, and not Dominatio. Persuasion, but not coercion. The ability to present your best arguments, but without overriding another’s will." She lets her gaze pass over each student, taking the measure of their convictions. "Very well. I mark your answer."

Her hand moves, and with a flick of her fingers, a small glowing glyph appears in the air before fading into nothing. "This record will be revisited at the end of the semester, after you have studied various ethical frameworks and applied them to this same dilemma. You may find that your stance evolves—or that it does not. Both outcomes will tell you something about yourselves."

She clasps her hands behind her back. "For now, we continue. Ethical decision-making is rarely about a single moment. It is a continuous process—one that will shape not just what you do, but who you are."

With that, she moves forward into the next lesson...

A few hours later, as classes ends, the Biblioplex, grand and filled with the scent of old parchment and ink, seems exceptionally quiet. The magic lanterns in it begin to dim slightly, signaling the shift toward evening

As the group steps out of the Biblioplex, the cool evening air greets them. The sky above Misthaven is painted in dusky purples and deep blues, the last light of day clinging stubbornly to the horizon.

Greta stretches her arms over her head, rolling her shoulders with a satisfying crack. She lets out a deep sigh before glancing around at the group, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Well, that was a lot of thinking for one day," she says, adjusting the straps of her satchel. "All this talk of ethics and magic makes my brain hurt. You know what’d help? A drink."

She plants her fists on her hips and gives the group a pointed look. "I say we head to the Bow’s End Tavern. First round’s on me—unless you lot would rather sit in your dorms and keep debating philosophy until your heads explode."

Kiraen gave a polite smile, though her mind raced for a response. The lie bubbled up before she could stop it.
The words felt strangely hollow as she spoke them. The Dueling Club wasn’t exactly what she needed right now. In truth, she was trying to avoid a far more pressing issue. Her trial evening at the Bow’s End Tavern a few days ago had been a mess — a disaster, she’d privately told herself over and over since. The way she’d fumbled with the drinks, the way her nerves had betrayed her… And the innkeeper. Her stomach twisted at the thought of facing him again, of his scowl as he’d asked her the apron and told her she wasn’t cut out for the job.She could still hear his voice in her mind: "Maybe try some other line of work, eh?"

The shame, sharp and biting, crawled up her neck. The Dueling Club — yes, that was her excuse. Nothing to do with the tavern. Nothing at all.

Greta didn’t seem convinced, but she shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself. But the tavern’s always there. Just saying!" She waved and began to walk away, rejoining the others as they headed toward the path that led north.

Kiraen turned away, clutching her satchel tightly. The sound of laughter faded into the distance as she walked, her steps quickening as she neared the eastern side of the campus. The cool night air kissed her skin, but the weight of her thoughts pressed heavier with each step.

Dueling Club. It wasn’t the place for brooding over mistakes. But it was somewhere she could do. Somewhere that required focus, action. Not like the tavern, where she'd stood frozen, spilling drinks and fumbling her way through the night like a fool. The Dueling Club had structure — rules, form, intensity. It was just what she needed, she convinced herself.

The stone path leading toward the Dueling Gym felt familiar in its own way, a calming contrast to the chaos of her thoughts. As she neared the small structure, the enchanted lanterns cast flickering blue and gold hues across her face. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The sound of light footsteps echoed against the walls, and the smell of oiled leather and polished wood mixed with the subtle sharpness of magic.

Inside, the gym was alive with energy, the hum of arcane wards filling the air. A few students were already practicing tonight — shadowing strikes, moving with the fluidity of skilled duelists. The walls glowed faintly with runes, marking the spaces where matches took place, and the faint scent of sweat and determination lingered.

Kiraen hesitated, fingers brushing the hilt of the stiletto at her side. She watched for a moment, the rhythmic movements of the duelists a welcome distraction. Her mind was already on the movements she would need to work through tonight, the quick steps, the sharp strikes, the calculated defensive maneuvers that would distract her from… other thoughts.

But before she could make her way fully into one of the practice rings, a deep, gravelly voice broke the quiet hum of the gym.

"Hi, Kiraen," Gorran’s voice echoed across the room, rough yet surprisingly warm. "Didn’t expect to see you here this late."

Kiraen stiffened slightly, her gaze drifting towards the towering figure standing by the far side of the gym, near the training racks where the weapons were neatly displayed. The massive form of Gorran "Steelshard" Vrahk was unmistakable. At nearly seven feet tall, his broad frame and thick, corded muscles filled the space around him as if he were part of the stone and timber that made up the gym’s walls. His deep forest-green skin and the scars that crisscrossed his body told stories of years of battle, of survival, of someone who had lived through far more than most could imagine.