Time passed quickly. Before any of them knew it, they were officially inducted into the Red Dragon and begun their classes. It was a whirlwind of activity, with the girls avoiding Tyr and him doing whatever it is that he did in the meantime. Most of it being spent in the library, according to Alex. Uncharacteristic, again. They'd have thought him possessed if not for the fact that primus' were supposedly immune to that particular phenomena.

He had never pegged his peer for the studious type, but he was well aware of the facts. A powerless primus, Octavian himself had indicated Tyr should've been culled in his youth – but Jartor had not entertained the idea. Whereas Tyr would study hard and struggle with all manner of topics, Iscari would breeze through everything. Attending this academy was just a formality. He'd been trained from birth to wield magic and was already at the level of the average mage. Far beyond it.

Iscari had access to his powers whereas Tyr did not. He was well aware that in terms of a duel, any mage he stacked up against would be squashed flat before they were capable of mustering much of a resistance. Because of that, he was excused from near every practical exam and barred from attending any workshops regarding battle magic. Nobody wanted a student to die or be maimed, and it was quite possible for such an accident to happen. Iscari was strong, but he didn't have full reign of his capabilities.

They sat together, ate together, and even slept together. Iscari and Tyr, that is. What with the fact that they were unfortunate roommates. He found Tyr to be incredibly bizarre. Different than the bright youth he remembered from his childhood. Dark, lonely, and solitary. He'd sequester himself in the library, working until the librarians chased him off before curfew. Always reading something or the other, usually magic theory and introductory tomes designed for ten year old children.

Tyr even took notes. Notes! On the simplest and most elementary theories that Iscari remembered learning before he had passed his fifth or sixth winter. He wasn't sure how to act around him, wondering if they were actually friends at all – but Tyr had asked. Very directly, and awkwardly.

“Are we friends?”

“Of course. We will always be friends. More than friends.”

Tyr had nodded at that, contented with the answer before returning to silence. Reading some more.

–

“Hello, class. I'll be your instructor for today. My name is...” The halfling scrawled her name on the board with a floating bit of chalk, never turning her back to the class. “Leda Honeygrass. I'm not a professor, I'm just a TA and research lead filling in for professor Horn. You may refer to me however you like, preferably refraining from 'affectionate' nicknames regarding my height.”

The class laughed at her joke. Leda was a halfling, and even among her race she was very short, barely reaching three feet. A halfling among halflings, of a sort.

“Does anyone have any questions before we begin...? No? Excellent!” She was a jovial type, easily identifiable by the pristine white and gold robes she wore. A healer, a fairly uncommon vocation to choose. Healing magic existed. Resurrection magic, too, but typically people chose to identify them by their school. Usually, that was anima. But Leda's robes would indicate she was a purist of sorts, focusing on light magic. More specifically, infusing it into other people.

In a sense, she was less a doctor or cleric and more of a highly specialized surgeon who followed one part of the healing discipline. For example, some go for the broader study of anima or light magic, which was more common, and then there were experts that would dedicate all of their time and energy toward curing diseases rather than repairing injury. Rather than a surgeon, it might be more apt to call her a physical therapist.

Iscari could hear the beating of her core. She was astonishingly weak, giving her position as such a well regarded researcher. Considering her lesser reservoir, she had achieved more than other peers in her field through hard work and ingenuity rather than brute forcing things. Choosing to master the slow process of curing degenerative diseases, maybe, instead of speaking a word of power and closing a cut.

“For those of you who don't know me, probably all of you.” She chuckled. “I am one of the leading experts in the field of mana pathogens and curses. Something of a virologist, but I'd like to think that this has given me a unique perspective on the study of what we call the mana phenomena. Can anyone tell me what mana is?”

Lots of hands were raised, she selected a student and they answered it. Even Tyr could answer that question, it wasn't that explicated. Still, drawing some bizarre looks from the other students near him, the prince continued to scratch at his parchment to copy everything down that he'd heard. Every single word.

His handwriting is terrible... Iscari observed. And he actually uses a quill instead of magic...?

Some people were just suckers for novelty, he guessed, turning back to the professor as she rattled off a series of other questions to get some engagement before beginning the proper lesson.

“As many of you know, there are three primary theories behind the mechanics by which mana operates. How it can be wielded by mortal creatures, and how it works. Does anyone know what these are?

More answers. Iscari was barely listening, staring at Tyr out of the corner of his eye and noticing that while he was taking notes – he was reading a book concealed beneath his desk at the same time. An impressive feat to split his focus like that. He wasn't looking at the page he was writing on, which might explain the handwriting.

“Yes. Winds theory, core theory, and string theory. As with most modern academics, I find string theory to be by far the most realistic. Please raise your hand if you do not have a proper understanding of string theory – as this is a major component we'll be discussing in this course.”

Tyr leaned forward in his desk. String theory was the newest theory of magic, according to his books – and it was a source of a great deal of conjecture. Some called it 'too simple', others insisted that it was far closer to the truth than the other two. Magic was still being studied. Man never stopped trying to understand these observable parts of the world. In kingdoms like Haran and Varia, withholding knowledge that could be used for the greater good was treason – and the mages of Amistad and the other nations were a living testament to why such a law need exist. People here tended to hold onto their secrets, taking them to their grave, and it resulting in a revolving door of sorts.

There were some who said that the arcane school of magic for example, was entirely useless and didn't need it's own school. Like all things, people would argue and little would get done. Something like that... Tyr knew of a merit system to try to convince mages to share their secrets. Quid pro quo .

“Okay, thank you for your honesty.” Leda nodded at a raised hand at the front. Iscari barely suppressed a snort, it wasn't a hard concept to grasp. How did anyone make it so far as the Red Dragon without having an intermediate knowledge of theory?

String theory was the idea that mana existed in, as the name would imply, strings. A string for every element that existed far beyond what was typically observable. That elemental mana and pure mana weren't separate at all, but rather that pure mana was every element combined into one string. For time immemorial, mages had considered it to be a matter of common sense that lesser spellcasters wielded pure mana or 'arcane magic' – and the more gifted could access elements directly.

The idea behind it was that summoning pure kinetic energy was far easier than a complex evocation of fire energy – just as an example. However, this myth had been busted some centuries ago and been used to support the very same theory they were discussing. Easier, maybe, but not inferior. A talent of a mage to pull apart the strings and bring one or another pure element into focus was more happenstance than skill. A product of their birth, usually, what they called prime elements.

Six elemental 'strings' between the dual forces of light and darkness that comprised the balance anima was predicated on. Fire, earth, wind, water, space, and anima. Most theories prior had considered the four prime elements and nothing else, until string theory had posited that the ability to bend space into things like dimensional gates was its own independent field of magic. Before that, space was not considered a separate element. Anima as well had been considered a component of light magic, but now it too had its own element. People still argued either way, though. Space was accepted but anima as independent was heavily debated.

In a way, anima could be boiled down into the classification of 'mind' or 'life' magic, which it had been in the past – and this wouldn't be incorrect.

Via these strings, one could take an element and 'follow it' to either end, achieving an effect not natural to the element itself. For example, fire magic had been seen as a force of destruction and not much else. Sure, it could light a hearth-fire or keep one warm but the primary use of fire had always been offensive. Until metamagic had been made its own science, which was a component of string theory.

There were facts present in the theory. Restoration magic or elemental healing magic, to follow the string on the light end of the thing and summon fire that could heal wounds or water that could be infused with darkness to become poisonous. Metamagic, they called it, utilizing this process to generate secondary effects that went beyond natural order. Once this theory, posited by Ellemar – a mad mage who's name had long been forgotten by near every mage – had been formulated, the development of human magic had exploded. A second magical renaissance after that which was brought by Solomon.

It offered a clear and scientific view into advanced spells that fused elements (weaving two or more elements together). Reinforcement magic as well. For the former, one could fuse air and earth to more efficiently cast illusion or dust and sand related spells without requiring the focus on individual particles of matter via kinetic magic. For the latter, one could fuse the element of water with their own inborn anima to become more flexible – ever element had its own effect. Infusion magic was quite rare, but it existed.

Before string theory, there had only been four schools of magic, three of them by other names. Without it, enchantment and most healing vocations would still be stuck in the dark ages of calling on the presence of gods and spirits, what was still known as conjuration. IE: Conjuring fire magic rather than evoking it. Typically, conjuration was less consistent. Lightning magic was impossible without it, as were a whole host of other things.

Currently, string theory was the predominate theory behind the mana phenomena, and anyone with a brain – in Iscari's opinion – should've discarded all other theory entirely. It wasn't perfect, but it was damn close. Without it, Solomon would never had been able to do the things that he'd done with anima, something that was not understood back in his time. Another mage that most of humanity had been forced to forget, though all primus' were aware of the black books and the raving lunatics who wrote them.

Genius and madness came hand in hand. When Ellemar stepped forward many centuries later, things started to make a little more sense. All of existence, presumably, was cast from this vast tapestry of 'strings' that gave things form and purpose. Everything was composed of them, existing in both lower and higher dimensions than mortals were able to properly observe.

Visually, the theory appeared as two spheres connected by the six strings. Darkness, death, entropy – it was referred to by different names depending on the scholar. As was light, life, or 'holy' as it had been considered in the ancient past.

Dark and light were good enough. Their understanding of the forces governing reality were imperfect, but one fact was clear. One could not exist without the other. The two spheres balanced everything, and by using mana to manipulate the balance, so much more was possible. This, in essence, was the true gift of magic. To achieve the impossible, to reach beyond reality.

Tyr's knowledge of these things was incomplete and elementary at best. However, he did know a truth that these students of magic did not. String theory was lacking in several ways, but it was absurdly close to understanding the forces governing the world as he understood them. It even posited that mana and those who could use it were components of things not native to the world – which was true. Spira seemed intent to expel all mana from their reality, in a constant struggle for supremacy. But without either, life as they knew it would cease to be.

He'd never considered that the idea that mana was foreign had already been well studied by the magical community, yet despite all of their collective millennia – they were still lacking. Not that he understood it much better, but experience and ability gave him the capacity to see beyond the rhetoric. Eventually though, these mages would come to the same conclusion Solomon and likely Ellemar had.

The 'divine truth'. Perhaps that was the real reason why both man and woman had been chased off or killed, struck from the history books. Tyr had probed his own father, Abaddon, and even Varinn about this – and they seemed wholly unconcerned with finding the real truth. To simplify, they just didn't care, shrugged and stated that there were truths living things weren't meant to know. Things they weren't supposed to, whether it was motivated by the godly, moral, or worldly principle.

Maybe one part of all of this is useful, but I have a feeling none of this is going to help with my problem. Tyr frowned, but it did give him an idea. All of the effort he'd put into getting this far might not actually be a flop after all...

Iscari observed Tyr raising his hand. Not in the process of asking a question, but letting the palm sit parallel with his face. Once he understood it, Tyr found it fairly easy. Following the string. He brought fire the fire to bear and could see the almost imperceptible... Magnets? On either end of it was a filmy barrier that could be pulled one way or another if he focused. Appearing very similar to 'strings', oddly. It was almost absurd that he'd never felt it naturally, but science and logic had their place. Now, he knew what to look for.

He followed the path of fire, balanced in the middle between the two universal forces of light and dark and plucked it toward the former, pulling it without much strange. Those things, the tuskers, he realized – were full of light magic. Too much to live a natural life. Too much life was very possible, resulting in bloated, cancerous, forsaken creatures. Just like their corpulent, cancerous leader, something that should not exist.

Worth noting, it seemed like that might be the key to what some might call biological immortality. With some side effects...

Without balance, what might be the anima started to run wild, warping their minds and bodies. Too much darkness, and they'd become dust. Too much light, and it would exist in a state of constant, unabated growth. A balance of world energy and mana existed, but the relation between them probably went beyond what living things could observe. Tyr would bet that world energy had it's own unique system, somewhere... In a wholly separate ladder of understanding.

In his hand, a white flame flecked with gold burst into being. Leda stopped abruptly in her lecture, staring at the flame in shock. Ten years of constant study could pass before a mage was capable of so effortlessly doing such a thing, and before her very eyes a student had done so freely. Hell, ten years? There was only one place she was aware of, in the world, that possessed sacred flame that pure. She became further shocked as the white-gold fire fluctuated between that and a black tinged with crimson. Flames of destruction and flames of life alternating at will.

His talent seemed skewed, however. Not a second after the black flames appeared he was hissing in discomfort and shaking his hand. Leaving behind burned skin. Harming himself with his own mana...?

“What's your name?” She asked.

“I'm sorry professor, I was just trying--” He let the flame die, blushing under her scrutiny and that of the other students.

“I asked your name.” She repeated sternly. For her small stature, she carried an impressive authority, and a look of blatant regret in her eye when his hand closed into a fist and the fire finally dissipated.

“Tyr.” He replied. “Tyr of House Ebonfist.”

“Class dismissed. You have near an hour left of the lesson, please use this time to study your textbooks. I'll expect you to have pages fourteen to page forty nine memorized by tomorrows lesson. Tyr of House Ebonfist, you'll be joining me as I escort you to the headmaster.”