[i]A Prologue[/i] “ HONK HONK HONK!” In his first day of arrival at Ersand’Enise, Onarr was expecting to explore the sights and sounds of the famous magical academy that many families had paid pounds of gold and limb for to send their supposedly gifted children to. Perhaps, peruse the Belsarra River. Head over to the Merchants Quarters to buy some sundries. See if he could even manage to trek all the way to the Violet Enclave. “ HONK HONK HONK.” What he did not expect, however, was his day to be ruined by an abominable avian . The bird, which had led him now to the Arboretum, was currently berating him with loud, chortling squawks as he continued to run after it. In its orange beak, his bascinet rattled precariously in its grasp, the top of the helmet every so often colliding with the cobblestone pathways. He’d swerved around a tree, knocking past confused students and teachers. His arms were raised up to hide his face whilst his eyes struggled to keep an eye on the tiny white feathered gremlin that had stolen one of his most prized possessions. His breath quaked as he saw it dive towards the middle of the lake in the Arboretum. Its wings fluttered as it touched down onto the edge of the lake. It couldn’t be doing what he thought it was going to do. He briefly considered breaking his one rule, imagining the satisfaction he would get from turning the bird into a roast dinner. Charge gathered in his hand and then dissipated, halting the process of drawing magnetic energy in the poles of his fingers. No. If he had done that, it would let that damn goose win. The goose, however, had taken advantage of his momentary hesitation, tucking its wings in before swimming gently towards the centre of the lake, beak still grasping his prized bascinet. It then turned around to stare at him tauntingly. A good five seconds passed between the both of them. His heart skipped a beat as the goose’s beak opened and the bascinet dropped into the water. The dark water swallowed it with a burp, bubbles floating to the surface as Aldrr’s gift sunk into the phantom depths. The goose gave one more satisfied honk before swimming away leisurely. “ Fuck,” Onarr whispered softly, stepping towards the shore slowly. He could feel his father already shouting in his mind and the countless lessons he gave him on the value of good steel and his brother - His breath paused as the smell of ozone poured out from his sweating palm. His brother’s gift. Onarr clenched his fist, breathing in, before taking a look around to make sure no one was looking. He dipped his finger into the rich blue water, ripples fanning out, before beginning to loosen his tunic with a grimace. Someone had to have swam here before, right? [hr] [i]Two weeks later[/i] Thank Shune he had the foresight to construct a periscope, or otherwise, he would have been the first student of Ersand’Enise to have lived through the most boring induction ceremony. The top of his scope peeked out from the top of the crowd as he watched the proceedings occur. The streets of the academy were currently filled with throngs of Biro initiates who were eagerly waiting for their names to be announced to the world. Well, multiple names in the case of the nobles and merchants. Nobody heard the sign that was muffled by Onarr’s bascinet as he ground his teeth at this meaningless superfluous exercise. What interested him more, though, was watching the demonstrations of the Five Magics at work. An amateur would marvel at the spectacle but Onarr’s mind raced at the spells, the framework required to pull the displays off. He lowered down the periscope carefully to adjust the lens before looking up again to see the fiery jaws of a canine engulf the air. Fascinating. A shame he’d never mastered Arcane magic like his father and his grandfather before him. Onarr briefly tightened the straps that held his cloak to his linen tunic, closing it around his tiny figure. It was cold here in Ersand’ Enise compared to the plains of Joru and Belzagg. He didn’t know whether that would extend to the reception he would get. He heard the applause and cheers noticeably dim as the merchants took their lieu after the nobles and then, the civil servants. It quickly became less of a ceremony and more of a formality as they climbed down the ladder of social hierarchy. Still, most of the artisans and civil servants around him just looked grateful to be even here at all, smiles of relief and pride on their faces. His time in the Joruban Stresian Order made him forget how knowledge and aptitude couldn’t balance the field between those with little in their pockets and overflowing pockets. It was maddening. It was irrational. But as his tutors always said, the wheels of progress moved slowly and subtly and that moving that faster could prove precarious for Constantia. He’d managed to huddle his way past people to the front of the crowd that made up the artisans and civil servants. For once, his small size proved his advantage. His name passed by in a blur. They didn’t even pronounce it properly. Credit to the crier for remembering he was from Belzagg but you didn’t click your r’s for a name of Eskandish origin. Charge briefly curled up in his palm like a coiled spring as he walked under the watching gaze of the Zenos and the crowds who were now chattering with one another instead of focusing on the biros. Perhaps, he’d ought to give them a performance. But, it’d been 8 years since he threw lightning and he wasn’t about to have a repeat of the accident again. He breathed out, charge hissing out into the ground and settled for a little bow to the attending Zenos before joining the procession ahead. “ Honk!” His back froze as he heard that damnable noise again. He searched until he saw a white speck on top of one of the brick-red roofs. It was the goose again, staring down directly at him. Instead of looking at him with a mocking gaze, the goose peered his neck to crane to look at him with…what? Curiosity? Pensiveness? Sympathy? He wasn’t an ornithologist nor a Stresian naturalist. He couldn’t decipher the intent behind those beady black eyes. Then, he felt himself being shoved forward, losing sight of the goose, and turning back to see a dark-skinned Belzaggian. “ Ay! Waas vyetig, fool!” “ Jannag,” He coughed out his half-hearted apology, ignoring the glower from his fellow East Severan. He couldn’t wait to be in the company of a quiet library rather than a loud crowd.