Bork Lazer

The Hourglass Order

ONARR YIDLOB

Onarr had found himself infested with a tick.

A large, furry tick. The tick hung onto him relentlessly. It had caused him no end of pain throughout this Pandes as he tried to work his way through the unceasing amount of assignments and tasks his tutors gave him. Having a furry critter that constantly clawed and have its tail swaying in front of you whilst trying to draw out voltage or cook a souffle wasn’t the most conducive for focusing. The tick was stuck to him like a barnacle. Attempts to leave it within his dorm were unsuccessful as the tick somehow managed to stay glued to his cloak without his knowledge.

Such was life in Ersand’Enise. Especially when you had a feral kitten for a pet.

As Onarr dove into his luncheon, the kitten sought to lift out its paw through his visor and take a swab of the lamb chop. He batted away the hand as if it was an errant fly before conceding to his pet’s demands and shoving a small piece of meat through his helmet much to its delight and his classmate’s confusion.

Well, at least, there was the Conclave to look forward to.

Nothing could possibly happen.

---

“ Alainiye Iore!” Onarr swore as he exited into a wide fence of hedges, trying to part from the bustle of students who were filtering out of the Arboretum. His fists swung by his side furiously as he went under the shade of the many great oak trees that cloistered the arboretum with their leafy curtains. “Alainiye lore! I knew there was something fishy but dragging me into all of this? ”

Out of frustration, the Joruban kicked the roots of the great oak, expecting the bark to split under his heel. He quickly regretted it as pain shot up his foot, causing him to fall back and sending one very frustrated kitten toppling off his shoulders.

“ MEOW!” The kitten yowled out before giving him the stink-eye and briefly batting his helmet with a dainty paw. Its complaints ceased once Onarr began scratching its back where it began to curl up and purr.

“ Reneging on his promises,” Onarr snorted. “ Of course, the neo-revisionists in the Stresian Order were right about us. It took the better part of a century but by Shune’s saggy tits, did our President pick a better time to wield executive powers.” Palming his helmet for a moment, Onarr thought briefly of Anesin. How in Shune’s grace was he supposed to look her in the face now? The Eskandish had been booted off the Conclave like the last Yoruban blood mages and Yibozo acted as if his political ascendance was the will of the people.

Then again, the scholar in him wanted to believe those naive propagandist tales of the antiquated nations of the world picking up Joru's model of impeccable governance and forward-thinking philosophies. After all, you couldn't achieve progress without greasing the gears with blood and cruelty. Perhaps, this was for the good of Joru after all and for him and people like his brother.

But, that sure by Shune didn't mean he was going to turn a blind eye to it all.

“ Spitting on the face of Eskand at a time like this…aren’t we supposed to be a nation of thinkers?," Onarr asked no one in particular, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.

“ Meow,” The kitten blithely replied back.

Onarr’s hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that he’d been putting off his mind for the last couple of hours. A sour expression scrunched up his face as he read it. He began to let current flood into the paper, the edges beginning to smoke as the corners lit on fire. The flames burnt inwards, turning the ink into flaky ashes that flew away on the evening winds into the black cosmos above.

“ Well, I suppose I should worry about more important things.” Onarr sarcastically commented as he picked up his kitten by the scruff of its neck. “ Like getting you a name.”

It was then that Onarr realised that picking up cats that way was a sure method towards suicide.

“ MEOW!”

“ Ow! Do you realise you scratched heirloom - OW!”

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob (And A Cat)

Onarr found his classes at Ersand’Enise today to be the equivalent of the training courses provided to novices at the Joru Stresian Guild. He split up from his primary group of classmates who filtered out of Zeno Latvar’s room like a school of fish. Their last lesson had by far been the most boring and the most difficult. Instilling hunger within smaller creatures had been somewhat challenging for him to adapt to. He was used to small rabbits and the various fare the Stresian Guild would catch for their chemistry lessons. Focusing his efforts on a praying mantis was akin to threading a string through a needle.

Mozaru and Colloy were the most efficient and least taxing of his abilities. Onarr thanked Shune that he wasn’t born a Truecaster like most from Joru were. It would have been embarrassing to demonstrate in front of the Zeno that his ability to draw and sense magical energies was zero to none. Colloy’s was the most dangerous yet easiest for him. Focusing the ambient magnetic energy in the atmosphere into his lightning rod seemed child’s play at first but he’d quickly found out it was more difficult than it appeared. The rod was unwieldy at first but the Joruban adapted to it after a minute of fiddling around with the current. He had been using his helmet for so long as a conductor that his magnetic talents had been honed towards using it. It was like using a sword right-handed instead of left-handed.

It was now that the Joruban found himself wandering the empty cobblestone vistas of Parade Street at night. He could hear the cacophony of music and raucous shanties being sung by his drunk classmates. He had enough alcohol with his Zeno group yesterday. Addling the mind was not something he could do to relax under his new circumstances, especially with the political wrangling that his President was trying to achieve. Onarr’s shoulder sagged as he sat on a nearby bench, the activity of the day finally sinking into his bones. He wondered for a moment whether he was prepare to bear the enormity of the task before him. The penance for his journey.

His brother would never forgive him if he dawdled in Ersand’Enise.

“ Mrrrreeeeeooooowwwww”

Onarr’s head perked up. What was that? Was it the goose again? He quickly disregarded the question as he felt a velvety sensation brush against his feet. He looked down and saw a cat. Well, a child of its kind, a kitten would be the proper terminology. It was coal black with luminous brown eyes with its coat of tawny fur draped over its tiny body. It moved one of its paws and began to bat curiously at Onarr’s boot.

“ Intriguing, ” Onarr then knelt down, gingerly lowering his hand towards its head. The kitten flinched away first before gently leaning into his touch, emanating soft purrs as he continued to scratch behind his ears. Strange. Feral, undomesticated cats were usually skittish. He hadn’t approached it with foodand he was sure he didn’t step in any catnip.

The kitten then leapt towards his helmet in a blur, his view briefly obscured before it curled around the base of the cone. He could hear the screeching sounds of claw on metal as the kitten found purchase. Its tail swayed in his eyes like an errant fly as he considered the absurdity of what just happened.

Would he have to report new pets to his Zeno?

“ Well, I can't tell whether you're a bad or good omen.” Onarr paused before asking the feline currently resting on top of his helmet. "What about you?"

“ Meow.”

The Cat

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

Onarr blushed under his helm at Sienna’s teasing, slightly abashed by the fact she’d revealed to the others the purpose of his sojourn. It wasn’t everyday that you dined with the leader of your nation, especially if you weren’t a noble. His father would have described it as the largest honour a Yidlob had ever received. His mother would have believed it to be an opportunity to engage in a Streisand dialogue with one of Jody’s most accomplished free thinkers.

Onarr was just grateful he could finally get some genuine Joru stew in his stomach after surviving Perrench and Rettanese fare for the better part of the last few weeks. Onarr’s concern at getting wrapped up in the personal politics of the Joru president was muddled. On the one hand, the abolition of class was something he had fiercely held a strong opinion for its presence in Streisand debates and with his mother who was against it.

Then again, failed revolutions were the plenty and Onarr had read multiple times of the failed instigated revolutions that Streisand philosophers had tried to instill in Perrene, Rettand and Torragon. Disorganisation and corruption had been their downfall as well as internal sabotage from the nobles. Seeing Ersand’Enise without the atrocious class politics that held it back appealed to Onarr but… would his fellow apprentices see it the same way?

Luckily, he had vast amounts of alcohol to bury his worries in.

Now slightly tipsy from his overindulgence, Onarr felt his tongue more looser in conversation than he would normally have been comfortable with, telling several crude jokes in Belzagg and Joruban to those who could understand and attempting to explain the underlying principles of the Five Magics to his fellow female students in an informal manner. Now that his Zeno had settled them all down, he considered her question for a moment before awkwardly asking his own query.

“ Are you sure it isn’t possible to take more than 4 electives?” Onarr paused before giving a justification. “ I mean, they’re all so interesting. It would be a shame to not take a subject such as…ahem….painting..”

He grit out the last few words with some disdain as he steepled his fingers together.

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

Interacting with: @Noxious, @SilverPaw and @Force and Fury

The tour would have been fascinating for Onarr if he hadn’t made an effort to walk around the grounds a week before the ceremony. The Treacle and Habregon buildings naturally excited him, a feeling of wonderment bubbling up inside his chest as his mind imagined the glassware, the alchemical ingredients, the safety apparel that he would have access to concoct his studies. He breathed a sign of relief that the tour didn’t extend to the Arboretum. He already had enough bad memories of that horrible goose and didn’t want to relive them.

The other issue of notice was those horrible course requirements. Onarr had already made up his mind about the courses he wanted to select. There were only a few which had gathered his interest, although he was appalled by the electives requirement. Although he wasn’t close minded as to decry the possibility of broadening his academic knowledge, he was undoubtedly chuffed that he could not take all of the courses in the academic stream and that he was forced to take motley domestic courses.

When they finally reached Arc-en-Ciel hall, Onarr was lame and tired, his legs feeling like lead as he trudged forward to keep up the pace with his companions. Now, Onarr was no gourmand but the selection of dishes and appetizers made me salivate. Torragonese egg tarts. Belzagg beef stew. Perrench plum duck. Onarr jumped up and down to see more as waiters and cooks passed by, spits of roasted meat hanging on their food carts alongside various dishes of sumptuous delicacies. By Shune’s light, he could have died happy and full here.

Just as he was about to scramble to grab a dish, Onarr stopped a hair breadth from grabbing a kebab stick loaded with roasted peppers and signed. He forgot about his appointment! Onarr coughed out loud to his fellow group of apprentices to catch their attention.

“ My apologies but I’m afraid I must bid you well for now. I’m required elsewhere for the moment. ” Onarr paused as he pointed at a cart to the left of him and spoke to Anesin and Linah. “ Please try the Joru monkfish over there. It looks well cooked”

Onarr stifled his desire to just grab a Torragon cookie as he split quietly from his apprentice group and made his way to the Aquilline Fountain. He sincerely hoped that his private soiree would have cuisine that would be up to par with what he had seen. Preferably, good hearty Joru cuisine. The Revidian fare of Ersand’Enise was fine for sublimating one’s hunger but he missed the tastes of his homeland, the place where he grew up.

Poetry & Literature Discussion

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

Interacting with: @Force and Fury, @Noxious, @SilverPaw

“ Are you sure your son has the Gift…….”

“ …Impressive output for someone of your age….”

“......Swear on your blood….”

“ DING!”

Onarr woke up to the metallic fumes of rain-dew perforating the sodden earth around him. He blinked, touching his helmetless face. Joru. How did he get here? He shakedly stood up on his two legs looking around him. It was his home village of Rutumbo, but different. The streets were empty. The houses were not lighted with oil lamps nor torches to keep them warm in the storm.

“ Onarr.”

He turned around to see the source. There, standing under the shade of a desiccated baobab, was Aldrr. Only one person in Joru could have that shade of red.

“ Aldrr?” Onarr replied cautiously. His brother’s back was still turned to him as he approached slowly, feet scrunching on the wet dirt. Onarr didn’t notice fog erupting from the earth around him, surrounding the both of them like a hedge maze.

“ Aldrr?,” he repeated once more, his hand near his brother’s shoulder. It all then happened in a blink. Onarr’s back on the ground, lungs winded. His brother on top of him, eyes rotten yellow and face twisted like a weathered statue. Before Onarr could talk, meaty palms the size of pumpkins wrapped around his throat.

“ GIVE ME BACK WHAT YOU TOOK.”

Onarr struggled to breathe as his brother’s hand laid an iron vice grip on his throat.

“ LET ME TAKE WHAT YOU TOOK IN RETURN.”

Butterflies began swimming into his vision as his lung flared, the last thing he would see before he passed out was his brother’s cruel smirk -

---

DING! DING!

Onarr blearily blinked his eyes open at the sound of the bell. He rubbed his forehead, the rays of Ersand’Enise dawn cutting through the closed blinds. It took another second for him to realise he had fallen on the floor in the middle of his sleep, his blanket sprawled around his tiny form. He signed as he stood up, closing his eyes and breathing out to compose himself. The bascinet glimmered invitingly to him on the night-stand. As he set it on himself, his mind gained clarity in its cool, metallic grip.

His head pounded achingly as he touched the spot where he fell down and then, cringed. Perhaps, it would be prudent to see if there were any apothecaries nearby and whether they had any sleeping medicaments.

Breakfast was a temporary, delicious solution. Onarr preferred Joru cuisine compared to the more quaint flavors of Ersand'Enise but food was food and he had heaped his plate with a mountain of scrambled eggs, sausages and toast. A mind like his required vast amounts of energy if it didn't want to starve after a busy session theorizing. Just as he was finishing off the last dabs of yolk on his plate, Penny came down the stairs in a mad hurry. He currently had his helmet off as he continued to eat, his unkempt hair in a messy state as it ran down the length of his chair like an unpruned plant. He grunted at Sienna’s question, eager to get on with the day.

His fists clenched when his Zeno mentioned the last task they would at to do before the end of today. Ah, course selections. The next step of his journey. Onarr distinctly knew what he wanted but it seemed that he would be best to make an informed decision rather than let his biases rule him. He raised a stubby hand up in the air and then, spoke.

“ Would there be any courses you would recommend for us to do?”

WAL-WORLD (Infinite Walmart/SCP 3008-inspired RP) [Closed]

I don't know. I might pass on this one at the moment, chief.

The Hourglass Order

Onarr

Interaction with: @Noxious, @Force and Fury and @SilverPaw

---

Onarr wished he could go back to his dorm, boil a nice cup of fermented Daggen, revise his manuscripts and take a nice, long rest after today’s events.

Instead, he has to ignore the stares from other fashion-blind students towards his glorious helmet, continuing to watch through his home-fashioned periscope. Every now and then, he has to pipe up to make little “Excuse me’s” and “Please don’t step on me” to ensure he isn’t crushed by the crowd of students in the plaza as they scurry like rabid mice to grab empty seats . Eventually, all of them were packed in there like pickled muskfish. It would be almost stifling in his helmet if he hadn’t forced open a small porthole on the upper metallic cone to allow some air through.

Onarr then made a promise to himself that if he ever became the Arch-Zeno of Ersand’Enise in the future, the next thing he would institute was the installation of raised platforms made of oak and castle-forged steel works everywhere to assist the physically diminutive like himself. This wasn’t out of compassion. It was simply because he was tired of seeing the asses of nobles and commoners all the time. Literally and figuratively.

It was an odd medley of mages around him and to Onarr’s relief, for once, not overly crowded by the sick stench of royals and nobles. His mind quickly picked out the few in the bustling crowd that he had spotted in the parade earlier.

He turned the periscope behind him and honed in on a waifish looking Revidian with a splotchy bruise on his eye. Ah, that one. He must have been the one to cause all of that ruckus behind him. Onarr silently bid him a half-hearted Shunic prayer and hoped that a binding healer would see to his injuries. It wasn’t that often where you witnessed worse luck than yours in Constantia but Onarr wasn’t the type to take solace in it. He’d had a taste of that once. It was satisfying at first but it slowly curdled you on the inside.

He then swung the periscope forward to the front of the plaza where all the nobles, royals and merchants congregated, resplendent in their most luxurious clothes that would be worth hundreds of Kizan. Solaire was the one he immediately picked out with his eyes. His initial performance at the parade had seared himself within everyone’s mind. Onarr snorted. What a showboat. He turned slightly to the left and spotted the Eskandish noble……Bjelke, was it? She was the only other remarkable one but all Eskandish were notable, given their political standings in Constantia. There was an ethereal nature about her that made his stomach lurch slightly, her complexion reminding him of the marble statues that stood tall in the Stresian temples his mother brought him to when he first learned to walk. Her countenance was collected and mostly disguised under that silken hood of hers. Onarr remembered a fervent argument between two Stresian historians which he observed whilst eating flatbread in the privacy of a library. One was arguing fervently that one could learn from the Empire of Eskand in Joruban’s future whilst the other argued that extenuating factors for both of the nation’s circumstances would soon lead to divergent futures. He wondered if perhaps, one could gleam the future of Joru in -

He blinked and shook his head, smiling to himself in nostalgia and heartache for those simple times.

When the five kings eventually arrived one by one, the clamor of the crowd around him grew, erratic whoops and hollers added to the melody. Onarr felt contempt rising in his throat as he watched each and every one of them pompously stride by, adulation and adoration in their wake. Next were the various representatives whom Onarr ignored as well. Only the presence of President Yibozo is enough to make him conduct a half-hearted Joru salute out of a habit his father had drilled into him. The lens of the periscope suddenly flared and wobbled just as he looked at the stage. Odd. He was sure he had calibrated it precisely this morning. He yawned, blinking a little, as he kneaded his tired eye with his closed right hand.

Perhaps he drank too much Daggen this morning.

By the time the parade had stopped, the sun bled indigo into the blue skies above. The next phase of the ceremony took place. It was the part that made his hands wring together and the inside of his helmet feel like a Belzagg savannah. His heart beat rapidly as he listened carefully to the syllables every Zeno that walked upstage announced. Everything seemed to pale in comparison to the importance of this small yet profound proceeding that would determine the next several years of his life.

As if some joke were being played to him, it came down to him and 15 other Biros out of the hundred or so that were in the parade. With bated breath, he watched pointedly as a Torragonese Zeno walked up on stage, a smile tilting her cheeks, and read out the four names.

"Anesin of House Bjelke, Penny Pellegrin, Onarr Yidlob, and my countrywoman: Linnah Aranda. It will be my pleasure to serve as your master and mentor."

“ PRESENT!” Onarr breathed out, remaining still for several moments, before collecting himself and waddling off the benched seat. He walked as resolute as he could, the stares of disbelief at his vertically challenged status bouncing off the shimmering steel of his bascinet.

A bead of steel awkwardly rolled down on the inside of his bascinet as he realized three important things about the group he was in.

One, that he was the shortest one in the group by far.

Two, that everyone in his group except him lacked basic common sense in terms of safety apparel.

Finally, the last being that he recognized no names that were distinctly Joru in origin.

There might have been other differences that he might have missed but these were by far the most obvious, worrying ones.

Not bad, not perfect either. Rarely all things were. The Eskandish noble he observed earlier in the parade was somewhat troubling for him and the Torragonese was not of any royal stature or of mercantile background given her state of similar dress to his. His mood darkened over seeing the Perrenchwoman’s crutches, unpleasant memories arising in his mind.

Mechanical diagrams and postulates about disability soon appeared in his mind and he tossed them away. He wasn’t here to change the life of one person and give them hope. Still, his heart skipped a beat as he watched her walk with her crutches on stage.

He wouldn’t be much of a good Streisan if he didn’t make an attempt to talk with her first.

Onarr stopped first in front of his Zeno before crosses his arm, fist clenched, over his chest in the Joru salute, and bowing.

“ I am glad to be your student, Zeno Afraval.” He paused for a moment before speaking what he thought was a Torragon greeting to his teacher. “ May your cattle be well-bred.”

He then turned to Anesin next, deciding whether or not to give a Joru salute. He wasn’t sure if it was an offensive remark in Eskandish culture. A few seconds past before Onarr decided to give a little bow, speaking in both Avinician and adding a little Eskandish at the end for formality. At least, what his father told him was Eskandish.

“ It is an honour to be in your presence, Lady Anesin of House Bjelke. May your ancestors shear sheep for all eternity.”

He turned to Penny next, bowing so low that his helmet nearly collided with her chin. As the Eskandish had worked out well, maybe, Perrench was in order too.

“ I look forward to being your fellow Biro, Miss Pellegrin. May you find safe harbour at a campfire.”

He then swiveled around to Linah, giving a nod to her reply, before bowing the same and replying in Avinician.

“ It is good to see a neighbour of Joru. Pleasure to be with you as well, Miss Aranda.”

He shuffled in line with the ready of the apprentice group and waited for the next batch of Biros to be called.

Well, that hadn’t been as bad as he expected. It looked as though his language skills hadn’t rusted over the years, no matter how many times his father tried to tell him.

As the fireworks turned the evening briefly into day, Onarr wondered briefly about the future and it’s possibilities with his fellow Biros before halting it. He’d been worrying constantly from his journey to Joru to Ersand’Enise. Now, it was time to relax.

A brilliant crimson bloom flushed the night sky pink, catching the attention of Onarr’s analytical mind.

Red colouration….Combination of magnesium? No. Must be tin and a hot oxidising - Ah, can’t think now.

He would figure it out and everything else in due time.

Interesting times were ahead.

WAL-WORLD (Infinite IKEA/SCP 3008 but in Walmart)

My schedule is tight but consider me interested if there's enough players available other than myself.

The Hourglass Order

A Prologue

“ 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?

---

Two weeks later

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.