The students gathered in the Grand Lecture Hall, a vast chamber lined with towering bookshelves and illuminated by dim, flickering lamps. Unlike the usual exams of spellcasting, crafting, or fieldwork, today's test would be one of philosophy—a challenge not of skill, but of thought.
At the center of the room stood Professor Alric Vaelin, a respected scholar known for his unorthodox methods. His sharp gaze moved across the assembled students, measuring them before he spoke.
"This is not a trial of power or knowledge. This is a trial of the mind. Today, you will be confronted with dilemmas that have no perfect answers. How you respond will reveal more about you than any spell or blade ever could."
The room fell silent.
Alric lifted a small brass bell and rang it once. Three stone tablets rose from the floor, each etched with a different scenario.
The First Dilemma: Power at a Cost
Alric gestured to the first tablet. "A newly discovered spell grants immense power, but at a cost—the caster will suffer great harm, perhaps even death, with repeated use. Should this spell be taught?"
A murmur spread across the hall as students exchanged glances.
A Spell Division student stood. "Of course it should. Magic is a choice. If someone understands the risks, they should be allowed to wield it."
Isolde, her arms crossed, disagreed. "That's reckless. Some students would use it without fully grasping the consequences. The academy exists to guide, not just to provide knowledge blindly."
A Material Division scholar interjected. "If we fear knowledge because of potential danger, we stagnate. Should we not trust individuals to make their own decisions?"
Nara scoffed. "That sounds noble until someone uses the spell and dies. And then what? Do we shrug and say, 'Well, they made their choice'?"
Garrick, ever the historian, leaned forward. "This is not a new debate. Weapons, forbidden arts, and lost sciences—all have been hidden or revealed throughout history. The question isn't whether it's dangerous. The question is, who gets to decide if it's worth the risk?"
The room fell into thought.
Alric nodded. "There is no right answer, only perspective. Let us move on."
He rang the bell again.
The Second Dilemma: The Beast's Fate
The second tablet glowed with runes. "A rare creature is discovered—intelligent, powerful, but too dangerous to tame. Every attempt at control has failed, and it has harmed many. Should it be exterminated before it becomes an even greater threat?"
Jhaeros tensed, his fingers clenching. "No. Killing it assumes we have the right to erase something simply because it does not bend to our will."
A Beast Study student shook their head. "You say that, but if it kills people, will you still defend it? How many lives must be lost before its existence is no longer justified?"
Kalem, ever analytical, posed a different question. "What if the issue isn't the beast, but our approach? Perhaps taming it is impossible with current methods, but that doesn't mean the only alternative is death."
Jhaeros nodded. "Exactly. We should seek understanding before destruction."
A student from the War Division smirked. "That's naive. If something is too dangerous, hesitation costs lives. If we had applied your thinking to past wars, entire cities would have burned."
Lyra interjected. "That thinking is just as dangerous. What if we start applying it to people? Someone is unpredictable, so we eliminate them? Where does that logic stop?"
Silence.
Alric's expression remained unreadable. "Again, no correct answer. Only what you are willing to accept."
He rang the bell for the final dilemma.
The Third Dilemma: Truth or Stability
The last tablet hummed with latent energy.
"There exists a historical truth—one that, if revealed, would shake the foundation of society. It would lead to riots, distrust, possibly even war. Should it be revealed?"
Garrick stood immediately. "Yes. The truth belongs to all. Hiding it is manipulation, not wisdom."
An older student, more reserved, replied, "But consider the cost. What if revealing the truth leads to thousands dying in conflict? Would it still be the right choice?"
Lyra frowned. "But isn't it better to struggle with the truth than live under a comfortable lie?"
A historian from a noble family countered, "You assume all people can handle the truth. Sometimes, stability matters more than honesty."
Nara crossed her arms. "That's just an excuse for keeping power in the hands of the few."
Kalem, thoughtful, finally spoke. "Perhaps the real issue isn't whether we reveal it, but how. If knowledge is dangerous, then doesn't that mean we need to prepare society to understand it rather than dumping it on them blindly?"
The room quieted. Even Alric seemed momentarily impressed.
"Interesting," he said. "You propose that timing and delivery matter as much as the truth itself."
Kalem nodded. "A reckless truth can be just as harmful as a well-placed lie."
Alric considered this before letting out a small chuckle. "Well said."
The brass bell rang one final time, signaling the end of the trial.
Alric looked upon the students. "Each of you has spoken from your values, your experiences. Some of you seek progress. Some seek preservation. Others seek control, or freedom. But in the end, these questions remain unanswered, as they always have."
He walked toward the door but paused.
"Perhaps the real test is not finding the right answer, but having the wisdom to ask the right questions."
With that, the trial ended, leaving the students with much to ponder.