A couple bells before breakfast, Magdala returned to the College of Martial Magic for the first time since the Harvest Ball. She’d missed the simplicity of running experiments and recording results, and since the person she’d preferred to do that with had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, she’d settle for Colin Fletcher and his aerosolization experiments. However, before she started, she needed to explain to Dean Bruce why she hadn’t been able to come for the past few days.
For its part, the college was busier than ever before. On her way to her old table, Magdala pushed her way past an experiment attempting to use wind magic to disintegrate stone, another trying to use water magic to increase the tensile strength of rope, and still another testing the effects of tytumber on the human body. At least that’s what she thought was happening. All she could perceive was an odd keening sound. In her wake, whispers formed, crested into questions, then faded into mist whenever she looked. Her stomach sank. She’d experienced this before; the day Dean Laurence had suspended her had started like this. Was Dean Bruce that angry about Magdala’s absences? Or was she displeased with Magdala’s Offering?
And who was that?
An older auburn-haired girl sat at Magdala’s table, reading her and Colin’s notes. She was curvier than Magdala, had an honest round face, and, judging by the badges on her midnight blue pinafore, was near-graduate Earth nQe. She only pretending not to notice Magdala’s approach however. When Magdala went around her to reach the table, she shifted to keep Magdala in the corner of her eye.
But before Magdala confront the interloper, a harsh voice called out. “Young Gallus!”
Dean Bruce’s voice emanated from her narrow office, which was next to the glass partition separating the students’ experiments from her personal project. “Come here.”
“Coming!”
With a parting glare at the interloper, Magdala made her way over to what had surely been a private chapel back when the College’s building had been some unknown noble’s residence. She knew it was private because there was barely enough room for herself, the dean, a desk, two chairs and an altar once the door was closed, shutting out the whispers.
“I’m sorry I was gone so long.” Magdala stayed standing as Dean Bruce moved back behind her desk, which was occupied by a stack of reports. One of them was titled Possible Vesicant Components. “I had family duties.”
“Is that why you think you’re here?” Dean Bruce swept the reports into the desk’s drawers. “Because you’ve been absent for just a couple of weeks?”
“Well, uh… yes?”
“You don’t think you’re here because,” the dean’s tone was flat, “of what happened the night of the Harvest Ball?”
“No?” What did that have to do with anything? “My Offering went well for the most part. There were some hiccups, but I know we can smooth those over the next time we try. The main point is that we proved that Resonance Theory is more correct than Emittance Theory.”
“Is that what you think is important here?” Dean Bruce placed both hands on the desk. “An argument with imbeciles too tied up in their hoary values to see what is obviously true?”
“Um,” Magdala tried to keep herself from wringing her hands and failed, “yes?”
“It is not.” Dean Bruce drew herself up to her full height and crossed her arms. “You are here, young Lady Gallus, because you have shamed this college.”
“What? No, I didn’t. The Offering went amazing. Everyone has been talking about it.”
“The Offering went well. You’d put this college and myself in a good light. Then,” The dean’s lips curled, “you kissed him.”
At first, Magdala could say nothing. Who she kissed fell under family business and had nothing to do with the college. This was a joke and yet the dean wasn’t laughing. Suddenly it was clear why another nQe sat at Magdala’s laboratory table.
Magdala straightened up and raised her chin. “I don’t see why that matters to you.”
“It matters because what a member of a college does reflects on her college and on her dean.” Dean Bruce came around her desk to Tower over Magdala. “If a member of a college engages in lasciviousness in front of everyone, then people ask what by the cup was her college’s dean thinking when she allowed said member into her college.”
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“You were thinking,” Magdala looked the dean in the eye, “that having the daughter of the Water Sage in your college was worth it.”
“I admit I thought I could take the potential of your breeding and mold it into a proper mage despite the unfortunate influences you’d come under during your suspension, but it appears said influences have too tight a hold on you.”
When Dwayne had learned Ri'mwe'ut, he’d told Magdala what it took for him to cast it. Was this rage she felt enough to power a fireball?
“Those influences are why I’m the mage you wanted.” Magdala crossed her arms. “Before the Autumn Session, you told me you wanted a mage with field experience, which I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my lord uncle and young Kalan. The Offering would have been impossible without their work.”
“That is not true.” The dean stepped back. “A dedicated mind and the application of proper methodologies were all that were required for the construction of the Qe core.”
“My lord uncle’s dedication. Young Kalan’s methodology. You’ve seen his notes. You know its true.”
Dean Bruce went still. “Those were his notes?”
Had Magdala not told her that? “Yes, they were.”
“But that implies that…” The dean shook her head. “No, it’s not possible. And it doesn’t matter.” She returned to her seat behind her desk. “As of this moment, you’re expelled, young Gallus. Werner will take over your project.”
“Fine.” Magdala opened the door. “I’m taking his notes.”
“So be it.” The dean sat down. “We don’t need them.”
Magdala slammed the door shut behind her and marched back to the table. Why did it feel like revealing that the notes were Dwayne’s was a mistake? No matter, it was time to leave. Without saying good-bye, Magdala plowed through the fresh wave of whispers and reached her former table where Werner presumably still sat reading Magdala’s notes.
Magdala held out her hand. “I’ll be taking those.”
Werner looked up. “Oh, really? That’s a shame.”
“Is it? Too bad.” Magdala snatched her notes out of Werner’s hands. “I’m expelled and these don’t belong to the college.”
“Surely you can leave copies?” The older girl was clearly not surprised. Magdala’s fate had been sealed long before she’d arrived. “That would be most helpful.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?”
Magdala turned on her heel and left.
Once she was outside, the full implications of her expulsion finally made their way past her righteous anger.
What was she going to do now?
In the short term, she’d have to endure her mother’s “I told you so” and her father renewed attempts to secure a marital partner for her, putting her right back where she’d been before the Autumn Session. In the long term, well…
She should feel remorse for kissing Dwayne and losing the only opportunity that had gotten her anywhere close to her real dream of becoming a soldier, but she couldn’t because kissing him wasn’t been a mistake.
Still, the question remained. What was she going to do now?
With no ideas to hand, she started to continue on her way back to the main campus and ended up colliding with someone.
“Ow, watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry, I-” Magdala stared who she’d knocked down. “Colin?” Her narrowed. “Did you know?”
“Know what?” Colin looked up. “Oh.”
“You did, didn’t you?” Magdala gestured back at the College. “Did you even try to defend me?”
“Why would I do that?” As Magdala’s jaw dropped, Colin got to his feet and brushed himself off. “You never belonged there.”
“Is this about me taking over your project?”
“No, it about how you do whatever you want and ignore how what you do affects others.”
“Really?” Magdala laughed. “I made sure that you were up on that stage in front of everyone who matters and you’re saying that I’m ignoring how it affects you? I know there’s a thousand job offers and marriage offers coming your way.”
“That is not what I want.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To keep Soura safe.”
Magdala frowned. “What are you talking about? We are safe.”
“Are we? Right now, there are heathen death defying witches menacing our borders, the Empire is creating weapons that make bows and arrows look like sticks and stones, and at any moment a Ri mage could walk up to our strongest armies and incinerate them all with one spell.”
“Don’t underestimate my father and the army,” growled Magdala.
“Whatever.” Colin rolled his eyes. “You know Dean Bruce asked me if I thought you kissing that Wesen boy was just a passing notion that you could be talked out of, and I said no because I saw how you look at him. You’ve fallen for him.”
Magdala crossed her arms. “And?”
Colin’s jaw dropped. “And?”
“I feel what I feel?”
“That’s all you have to say? Can’t you see what has happened since he arrived? The mage families robbed? The assault on the Gray Tower? The windsong messengers left bleeding in the street?”
Magdala cocked an eyebrow. “You think that Dwayne, the one investigating all that, is responsible?”
“All I know is if we had a proper Royal Sorcerer, someone like the dean-”
Magdala’s fist sank into Colin’s cheek. It wasn’t a good punch, her fist wasn’t tight enough and it had none of her weight behind it, but it was enough to send him spinning back to the ground.
“See what he’s done to you!” Colin squealed. “He’s made you violent.”
“No, he would have stopped me.” Cups, that had felt too good. “What makes me violent are idiots who see someone doing his best to advance magic for all of us and call him a monster. I’m only sorry that you’re one of them. Have fun with your dust experiments. I’ll see you in class.”
Magdala continued on her way.