"Listen here, all of you, and I can tell all of you why this is a problem. Think on this, how dangerous is a child? Easy, not very dangerous at all. How about a child with a sword? Perhaps a little more, but still hardly a threat. And what about when that boy becomes a man with a sword? Now you might be seeing the truth of this metaphor. The flood of magic is changing things, putting swords in childrens' hands, and sometimes you won't ever know until it's much too late. That's the kind of circumstances we're talking about."
The murmurs were becoming too much, the man cleared his throat.
"Now! Now… You're all students here. Since you're in this college, I know you're all intelligent enough to realize that people are being born with more than simple bits of metal to swing about." He presented the simple rock in his hand. "River stone, smooth and dark: Describe the precise shape of this. Tell me of the weight and the pressure that forged it from sand and sediment. Tell me how the light reflects from it. Tell me how the world pulls at the mass of it, how the wind cups it as it moves through the air. Tell me how the traces of its iron will feel the calling of a loden-stone. All of these things and a hundred thousand more make up the name of this stone… This single, simple stone."
He spoke the final word and there was a hush that followed it, as if the world itself were waiting to breath. The rock unfurled itself, cracking and grinding upon itself as if it were suddenly made liquid, it's every being shaken and moved by the command. Tearing itself apart in the man's hand before fading to nothing more than dirt that passed between his fingers.
"It's not their fault that they do not know. It's not their fault that they're not born with control. It's not their fault that a young man, in a moment of passion, might combust in the street and harm the unlucky individuals around him. But it isn't about fault. Fault isn't the issue. A tree doesn't make a thunderstorm, but any fool knows where the lightning's going to strike."
It became cemented then. What the difference was between an institutionally taught and trained Wizard and a sorcerer. What this flood of magic threatened. Despite all the other rhetoric of the time, people could see the danger in this. Men born with a power more dangerous than any simple sword and allowed to freely do with it as they pleased. Using intuition, rather than the cold, exacting knowledge they'd all been taught with. The gods were mad to allow this.