It was over –he was free– The pristine Academy would no longer torture him with its recmation and cleansing magics. He missed how his soul resonated with the real smells of the world, not that clean magically enforced sterility.

  He had decided long ago that real magic should have a smell to it. The earth and pnt magics had smelled of petrichor and cherry blossoms when he had visited their verdant greenhouses. He was somewhat disappointed that no one perceived the world the way he did. In a different life –A different soul even– he might have joined their ranks, but Vicktor yearned for something far grander.

  He had joined the Academy at the age of ten, spent two years grasping at the threads of the most fundamental basics of magic and another six to practice his chosen discipline. He personally had taken an additional two years beyond the standard education to increase his breadth of knowledge, he had to give himself the best opportunity to fulfill the fundamental principle of his magic:

  I CONSTRUCT OUR FOUNDATION

  His Academy acquaintances had simpler fundamental principles. “Fire burns all”, “The earth kneels” and “Be healed”. He'd once had a teacher named Rick whose fundamental principle was “I name the wind”. He spent his entire career talking about how best to write down and the story of how he'd stolen from the gods, but the old fool never actually wrote it down before he choked in a river stream. That man's conceptualization of magic was so utterly foreign to him, he'd never have been able to replicate it even if he had tried.

  The Academies resident teleportation Mage –Zz’xx’yy– who brought him here had the fundamental principle “motion is always retive”, utter tripe. Things always stayed where they were, why would they do anything else?!

  He hated teleportation, another fundamentally incomprehensible thing. The banishing of his brain, tissues, and organs never quite took the same form upon the arrival. The soul did the bulk of the work restoring the mind's neural pathways and memories, it just never felt quite the same afterward, even if the soul’s version of him was technically “more accurate” than his previous obliterated self. He swore upon the stars that he would never do it again. Never.

  His soul continued to stitch his aetherized body back from the void of nothingness, his new stomach gurgled with new bile and he retched, dry heaved and retched some more.

  “You must have an incredibly stationary fundamental principle, not a lick of movement in your magic huh?” A gentle baritone called out from above and to the right.

  Vicktor groaned against the delicately inscribed stone floor “I.. Construct… our… foundation”

  “Oh bespoke too? That’s rough kid…” The voice paused for a few moments. “I’mma need you to get up, I got another kid after you and I don’t wanna drag your ass out the door. I already have to clean up your spew”

  “ughh, fine”. Vicktor pulled himself up, the cold stone against his warm flesh. It was a beautiful reminder that he once again inhabited a solid body.

  “Names Garrett by the way, make sure to give me 5-stars on the way out”

  Vicktor was already stumbling out the doorway with a nod and quick wave of the hand.

  “Welcome to the Allium, there’s a few sets of long tunic and hose on the right, we are pretty progressive bunch compared to the Academy, but nobody wants to see your magnificent moon and stars. Bring it back ter kid”

  The grin singing through the mans voice irked Vicktor. Finally getting proper sense of himself and looking down, he groaned once more, having forgotten another side-effect of teleportation.

  “You know, when I was 10, my soul wasn’t quite so hairy” Vicktor bemused.

  First stop, the builders guildhall.

  Vicktor had graduated in the summer, and while the Academy was on a series of isles near the equator, his chosen city of Allium was located somewhere between the 40th and 45th titude.

  He stepped out onto a wide broom finish concrete road that stretched out twenty yards to the opposing span of commercial buildings. Enormous shade trees presiding over rain gardens collected the runoff from an earlier trickle.

  He paused, watching the urban life before him. Large horned aurochs three feet ter than him pulled even rger wagons behind them. Their rge hooves clicking as they trotted to their destinations.

  Instead of the wheeled residences of the hills of his homend, these wagons mostly transported bulk goods.

  From this distance, he could make out the crenetions of the city walls, the immense physical barrier a novelty to him.

  He got directions from a pair of friendly-looking Beastkin men as he walked. His mind wandered and he thought how different the winters might be from the fields his tribe had roamed a decade ago.

  The Blue Hills, was no longer his home, some thousand miles to the southwest. He had little desire to return. They clearly didn't want to see a weak kid like him, right?

  Ten whole years since that debacle and his functional disownment. Best to start somewhere new, somewhere snowy.

  The Blue Hills did have some snow, but only ever a light dusting. He wanted to smell real snow, the ice Mages had satisfied his sensory curiosity, but he wanted to smell piles of real stuff. He only had a few months to wait. The anticipation of the new feeling made him happy.

  After a few more blocks under the canopy, he reached the builders guildhall. The smells of the city were strong, but he wasn’t quite ready to explore given his nonexistent bank bance and ck of map or archive ste to guide his wanderings.

  As he opened the double-doors to the guildhall he was instantly overwhelmed. The rib vault ceilings allowed for intricate stained-gss windows to be erected. His natural affinity for mana allowed him to perceive the power thrumming through the intricate spellworkings traced along the floor, tempered gss ptes allowed their resonances to glow to the mundane part of his vision. He could–and very well might– spend a long weekend reading through the design pns at the public access archive stes in the local library.

  Vicktor gazed a great deal longer than was socially acceptable, but this was a truly unique and captivating space. Scattered around the edges of the cobblestone hall were several lounge areas. Mages spoke freely with their peers, but not a single word was spoken or as he realized further, he could no mouths moved, only a smooth blur as their jaws opened and closed. Finally he willed his eyes away from the magics and walked towards the reception area.

  “Welcome to the Builders guild” Purred a wine and smoke dabbled harlequin beastkin, “I am Mx. Reshka, How may I assist you”

  “I, Uhhh, Im Vicktor”, he paused to get a grip on himself. “I just graduated the Academy and I’m looking to interview for a job Miss Resh--”

  “Mx. Reskha, Vicktor” They narrowed their eyes and their vertical pupils shrunk “There’s a lot of important things they don’t teach you at the Academy. Never stop searching for knowledge and understanding. My foundational principle for example:”

  WORDS ARE POWER

  The phrase rang through his core like a bell, momentarily threatening to topple his very being. It wasn’t enough to shake his own fundamental principle free from his soul, but it resonated through his being. He was surprised both by the presence of a Mage as a receptionist but also by how much he wanted to tinker with his magic while taking on aspects of this new perspective.

  'After the interview, I’ll figure out what a Mx is'

  Pausing while he recovered, Reshka smiled once more and asked “What's your foundational principle Vicktor?”

  “I construct our foundation” he said, hoping it would have a simir effect to how it affected him

  She nodded and wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Neat”

  “Let me ask around for a little bit, I have a few ideas but it’s always good to get a second or third opinion you know?”

  He nodded but they were already standing and walking away, their red and silver tail swishing gently against a blue dress as Reshka’s backside vanished behind a masonry column.

  After a half-hour of waiting, Mx. Reshka returned with two men and a woman. One of the men, a lizard beastkin, held himself confidently. He wore no weapons or tools on his person. Just an engraved leather pouch fastened between his shoulder and his slim waist. He looked young, but mages often did.

  The other two were decidedly less confident, but had clearly reached physical maturity. Vicktor was pulled from his thoughts.

  “Greetings Vicktor, I am Master Tosk and these are my apprentices, Ar and Nora.”

  Ar waived his cw at him, resting it on a rge leather pouch on his hip. The feathers on his hands and face were small and mottled brown and gray. Two sets of rge tufts of feathers adorned his face as mock horns. It was hard to tell from his downturned beak, but from the light in the man's eyes he was smiling. His wings were concealed from Vicktor’s vision, he must have had some way to quickly release them. Vicktor wanted to find out but that might require a lot of staring at the small thin man from behind.

  Nora adjusted her spectacles behind furry pointed ears before raising out her hand for him to shake. She was significantly stronger than her frame suggested. She greeted him quickly, revealing a set of sharp canines through her soft pink lips. Her brown and gray speckled hand lowered to her side, reflexively gripping onto the great warbow she kept slung across her back. Her rge fluffy tail trailed zily in loops, the tip hanging below her wrapped calves.

  'They seem like good people'. Vicktor thought as he returned his gaze to Master Tosk.

  Master Tosk continued, his slot yellow eyes seemed to rex a little. “Now that we have properly been introduced, it’s time to test you d”

  Vicktor walked beside Master Tosk, while Ar and Nora followed behind them. He could have sworn that Ar whispered something about his arse to Nora, but it must’ve just been the wind.

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