Royal IC
Nine star-iron towers standing on the cliff of a floating island at dawn, above a sea of mist.

A charter of the Third Isle · Caelum Imperium

Royal ImperialCollegeof Arcana

Nine towers above the mist. One gate that opens twice a year, for the length of a breath.

Lux Sub Corona, Veritas Sub Radice

Read the charter
Est. IIIrd Age, 412 · Hall of Records Admissions close at the ninth bell

Article I — the address

An address is a licence.

The Empire does not register buildings. It registers addresses. A tower may stand for a thousand years and remain a workshop; a workshop may not confer degrees, may not use the word Royal, and may not write to a candidate twice.

Our name is therefore not a title but a four-part statement, read aloud at the door: the warrant, the college, the licence, the ground it stands on.

Royal

By warrant of the Third Crown. Eleven colleges hold it in the whole Empire. The word is withdrawn, not revoked — once lost, a college does not apply again.

IC

Collegium Imperiale — the Empire's own college. Endowed from the salt tax, answerable to the Magisterium of Instruction, and obliged to admit one candidate per decade who cannot pay.

Edu

A licence to confer degrees. Without it we may teach, examine and publish; we may not graduate. Most of the towers you will see from the cliff are workshops.

CI

The aether prefix of Caelum Imperium. Letters posted outside it are wild letters: they are delivered, and they are not answered.

The full address is — spoken in that order, without pause.

Article II — the faculties

Six faculties. Nine towers.

The towers are not departments. They are six arguments about what magic is, conducted in stone, and a seventh question nobody has been able to put into words since the founding.

The register lists six. You will count nine towers from the cliff. The difference is not an error in the register.

Article III — the ranks

Five ranks, and one that is not written.

Ranks are not awarded for knowledge but for what the college is willing to let you do without supervision. Each one is a permission, and each permission can be taken back.

I

Apprentice

Four years in the lower towers. You will not touch the ninth, and you will not be told why.

II

Adept

One year at the cliff. The gate learns your face and stops asking for the letter.

III

Magus

Licensed to work outside the walls, under seal. What you do beyond them is recorded, not forbidden.

IV

Archmage

A seat in the Hall of Arguments. Sixteen hold it at any time, and they vote by standing.

V

Royal Magus

Seven in the Empire, never eight. Your name enters the Long Roll — and the Long Roll, in turn, signs letters on our behalf.

Article IV — not entered

There is a ninth tower.

It is not on the map, it is not in the register, and its graduates do not appear in the roll. Every robe at this college carries one blank shield. Ask why, and any student will tell you it is a custom.

The shelves are not open to students. Do not ask twice.

Two weathered stone pylons on a cliff at night, with a vertical seam of gold light opening between them.
The Rift Gate, at the cliff's edge. Photograph taken from the third island.

Article V — the gate

Admission is a crossing, not a decision.

The letter

Letters are not sent. They arrive once, folded, and never twice.

The crossing

The gate opens at dawn and at dusk, for the length of one breath. Being late is not a delay; it is a refusal.

The seal

Your ring is cast from wax and one drop of your own. It softens near a lie, and stays soft.