Three Friends

The library burned around him. He’d been working on another communication spell, meant to let him safely translate another of the strange tablets that’d been sent through the mercurial mirror he’s attuned to the Rift beyond the outlands. He’d gotten so far, written tome after hefty tome of information, carefully written so as to be perfectly safe for anyone else to read. Well, almost safe. A little madness was necessary to be a true Thaumaturge, in his mind.

None of this changed that his library was on fire, and armed... ‘men’ were breaking down his door. He weeps with fury and turns the large-scale Mirror he’d constructed, but never finished linking. It’d have let him speak to the Mentor on the other side of the smaller mirrors, meet the being in person and truly test his mind’s toughness.

Instead, he’d end up anywhere.

Clutching an obsidian wand in one hand, brass-capped and covered in molten-hot runes that gave off no heat, he grabbed a lone backpack, absently sucking the last few ingredients he has on hand into it, cleaning out a chest with some simple brass and lumps of rough Thaumium, as his door on the first floor breaks inward, shattering. Thankfully, the idiots hadn’t realized that the doors were better reinforced than the walls to either side, and would be stymied by the two further closed doors between there and himself.

He shakes himself, trying to focus. He may have done the impossible, infusing himself directly... but now he’d have to leave his lab behind. He hits a lever he’d always kept well away from accidental contact, starting a ten-second timer until the mound of transmuted TNT went off.

Deep breath. Step through. Darkness. Absence. Movement. Light.

Exhale. The mirror behind him crumbles, pieces of material no more black than the sun is warm. They turn to their unbound forms, vanishing as they become one with the Rift once more, and he collapses to the ground on his knees, finally letting loose the tears he’d withheld, showing his age -a mere sixteen years- as he struggles to hold back his emotions.

Some time later, he looks up, blinking as he sees that not only did he arrive in a real world, he could see an expanse of dense trees, likely a Roofed Forest, and a sprawling town. Fellow people, a lot of them if the number of houses and buildings are to be believed. And reasonably well-off, judging by the height of a few of them. And the town hall is fairly obvious. There’s no visible wizard’s tower anywhere, but he can work without one. He’ll set up his own, provided they don’t drive him out for researching in the Cult’s secrets.

A niggling voice in the back of his head, sounding like his old master, pipes up. ‘They need not know of your course of study. Simply tell them you study magic. They are unlikely to know the difference if you do not tell them.’ The thaumaturge nods to him. He’ll start again. Locate his Mentor again and get back what he needs. And he’ll make the Cult pay for what they’ve done over the centuries.

The young man starts walking down the rocky mountainside towards the town, never looking back or seeing the magnificent city a few hundred feet above him.

Hunter makes his way to the cottage and wonders how he would be scary to whoever lived there. He didn’t have anything on him that might be threatening... aside from a set of large robes that fell down to just below his knees. He had seen himself in a mirror and it did make him look rather sinister... Oh well, they clearly weren’t necromancers robes so he felt assured that a good foot forward would be sufficient.

Like he did at the zebra’s hut, he knocked gently on the door of the cottage.

The door opens, and a pink-maned pony is visible behind it, looking at his knees with an expectant look, before freezing in place, slowly letting her gaze travel up to his face. From her point of view, he’s standing back to the sun, shrouded in shadow and taller than even Big Mac.

A cloud of yellow marks her departure point, a few wisps pointing in the direction of the couch on the other side of the cramped living room, where a tuft of pink can be seen under it.

Hunter pauses. Maybe he was that scary... That wasn’t good, he didn’t want to scare anyone away... being a covenless witch was lonely as it was.

“I was... told to come see someone here?” Hunter said hesitantly into the house. Suddenly he caught the smells of various animals, some he knew, others he couldn’t discern for the life of him. Confused at the mixture of familiarity and strangeness he pondered inspecting the area. Or leaving.

A pair of turquoise eyes beer from the dark beneath the couch. “Wh-who sent you?” the timid response comes, like a frightened child.

“A zebra, I met her while wandering the forest.” Hunter explained, as he took a cautious step closer to the doorway.

“You’re a friend of Zecora’s?” she asks, and he can tell by her eyes she’s tilting her head, and the pony slinks from under the furniture. Frankly, it reminds him of an untamed ocelot coming out for a treat from beneath a build.

“Well, if that’s her name then yes, we never got properly introduced. I’m looking for this ‘town’ I was told about.” Hunter said, getting down on his knees to reduce his height.

She comes forward, stepping near him and giving a nervous smile. “Well, uhm, the path from my house leads to town... but what do you need there?” she asks, now able to get a better look at him when he’s no longer directly in the way of the sun. He wasn’t as scary as she’d first thought.

“Well, my friend and I were looking for a new home and we wound up here. I’m going to need some food and potentially some plant-care supplies to get my garden started.” Hunter said, thinking over what else he may need. “You wouldn’t happen to have any eggs, would you?”

“Oh, uhm, I’d have to ask the chickens if they’ve laid any yet, but they’re usually night-layers.” she says. “Henrietta might, though, she’s had some issues with insomnia lately.” she explains with complete solemnity.

“Hmm... Well, I don’t know how effective it would be on a chicken, and I’m pretty much out of ingredients, but I think I could whip up something to help with that. I’d... need the eggs first though. If you don’t have any that’s fine. I’ll see what I can do on my own.” Hunter assured the winged pony. He briefly wondered what sorts of potions he could brew with feathers from a pegasus...

The pony seems much more at ease as he leaves, and she wonders what kind of animal he is. She’d mistaken him for a minotaur at first, but he looks too rough, almost blocky in shape. Maybe it’s just the shape of his clothes, though.

Walking into town, he began looking for more of these pony creatures. They seemed nice enough, though he definitely preferred the dark forest. Much more room for wild plants to grow. As he continued, he noticed some buildings of rather cozy design, thatched roofs and mainly made of wood. This seemed like a farmer town, perfect for his needs. The only problem he could foresee was potentially having to save the residents from Slendy’s pranking.

Shortly after reaching what he could only describe as an outdoor market, he seemed to be drawing a lot of attention from the various, brightly-colored equines. He’d never found much use for reagents from horses but should he ever, he’d... no, he wasn’t that kind of witch, he’d make do without. Though the seeds of curiosity were planted, and his green thumb helped nurture it into thoughts of potentially making all kinds of potions. Taking out a book he had brought with him, his notes, he began writing down thoughts on the ponies.

Even if he wouldn’t ‘harvest’ a sapient species, he’d certainly see what sorts of plants they’d grow...

A glance around the marketplace reveals an impressive array of fruits and vegetables, including ones he’d never encountered before. For example, why are those fruit over there only called by their color? The orange and plum-colored ones would be far better with more normal names.

Still, he continued on and found a few interesting things. Something about the way those bales of hay were displayed seemed to imply a use he’d never considered and was absolutely foreign to.

Pocketing his book of notes, the large pockets of his robes easily carrying the medium sized tome. He noticed a stall that sold carrots and hearing his stomach grumble, he went to that stall first. “Do you barter? I have no money...” He said, addressing the stall owner.

The purveyor looks up, seeming shocked, but quickly shaking it off at the mention of having no money. “Uhm, I suppose that’d depend on what you’re trying to offer. This isn’t the Rainbow Falls Swap Meet.” she says, shuffling in place.

Hunter began rummaging through his pockets. What would be a decent trade...? He held out a handful of seeds that he had grabbed. “I’m not sure if you know what Belladonna is, but I have some to offer. You’d just have to grow them yourself.”

The pony furrows her brow. “Isn’t that stuff poisonous?” she asks.

Hunter puts the seeds away quickly. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to eat, I meant... oh, well, I suppose if you don’t practice, they are rather useless... My apologies.”

“Uhm, it’s alright. If those’re all you’ve got, I guess you can have some of the reject carrots. I think all carrots are beautiful in their own way, but these won’t sell.” she says, pulling out a small basket of weird-looking carrots. One makes him narrow his eyes, the witch wondering why there’s a desiccated Mandrake in the basket. Did she seriously not notice it didn’t look anything like the carrots around it?

Still, mandrake root would help to have, so he handed her the seeds and graciously thanks her for her produce. He now needed a place to get some stone to make a firepit for his cauldron. But the town seemed to lack any indication of having a quarry, so he continued on, thinking over what he may need to have until his plants were growing at a decent rate.

As he walks, he spots a figure that makes his eyes narrow. It’s definitely another human, for one, and also definitely not Slendy. The figure is walking along, a backpack made of purple fabric on his back and a brown satchel on one shoulder, a black rod in one hand, and the handle of a knife clutched in the other, though the knife isn’t drawn.

Given the destructive power of a well-prepared Thaumaturge, Hunter knows the knife is the lesser weapon.

He approached the new human. Perhaps he wasn’t the first one here after all, just new to the one he now knew as Zecora. He shook his head as he refocused on the other. “Hail mage, what brings you to this town?”

The person snapped their head up, eyes a bright, angry-looking red-orange. The color vanished as he blinked. “I-” he coughed, evidently unused to speaking. “I’m seeking a new home... though I was told there weren’t any other Players here.” he said, looking confused. Thaumaturges don’t often deal well with unexpected situations.

“I was told the same. I fear we were both mislead, but it seems that was not on purpose. The populace is friendly enough.”

The mage nodded. “That they are... and they’re very interesting specimens.” he said, a small smile on his face that makes Hunter slightly uncomfortable.

“...Indeed. I admit I’ve been wondering what sort of purpose they might be used for. Ah, I apologize. I haven’t introduced myself. Hunter.” He knew that, unlike among witches, names were not as important to many schools of magic, and not offering a name was suspicious. He found it odd, but he abided by the custom.

The man went to hold out his hand, but hesitated, smile faltering. “I’m, ah... not sure what my name is. I haven’t said it in... in a long while.” he said, looking a little lost. It’s about this time that Hunter realized how much younger the thaumaturge is than himself or Slendy.

“Well, I’m sure we can help each other all the same. If you lack steading you may use our...” Hunter sighed at the prospect of what he was about to say. “Aquarium.”

The thaumaturge blinked. “... Should I ask?”

“No need, my friend has great power, but... little learning in its workings. It is actually the reason we ended up here.” Hunter looked around for a viable spot to draw a chalk circle into the ground. It didn’t have to be that big, but with otherwhere chalk being what it is, he’d like to have an easily-reached area that would be relatively untouched.

“Ah, I see. My late master once told me that with great power comes great responsibility, and with great responsibility comes many headaches. From the sounds of it, your friend has much of the first, and is giving you many of the last.”

“Apt.” Hunter smiled, “Now then, I’ll need a safe place to put down some glyphs...”

“Glyphs? For what, may I ask?” he said, looking confused. If only the terms between different forms of magic weren’t so maddeningly similar but laden with different meanings... but this is what happens when a great many old masters develop different branches independently, and then never collate during their lifetimes, nor the lifetimes of numerous successors.

“Chalk circles. Well, just one, really.” Hunter said, holding up the purple chalk that gave off particles not unlike that of the creatures of the Ender. “With this, I should have just enough left to bring us back to where I have my current home.” Hunter turned and, readjusting his grip on the carrots he’d acquired, looked for a viable area.

The thaumaturge watched him intently. “How large an area do you need?” he asked, thinking of a field he’d passed on the way into town, before getting directions towards the market by that kind gray pegasus. The one with the pretty gold eyes that stare forward and at nearby nodes.

“Oh, nothing large, just a few blocks.” Hunter said as he found a spot on the roadside that was grassy and easy enough to find without being in anyone’s way. Drawing a simple seven-by-seven circle of glyphs into the ground and, as expected, used up the rest of his otherwhere chalk. Completing the circle with a single heart glyph in the very center, leaving him with plenty of golden chalk. He passed one of his waystones to the thaumaturge. “Simply place the stone in the center and stand in the circle.” He instructed as he did exactly that.

Several moments passed and the waystone’s rune glared brightly for a moment before utterly vanishing, along with Hunter, who was back at the original circle he bound the waystones to. He figured it was simple enough that even a thaumaturge with no knowledge of witchcraft could accomplish the task.

The ring of chalk flared, the sound of a collapsing wormhole - the same noise Endermen make when teleporting - accompanies the young mage through the ring. The forest is, relatively speaking, dark, and Hunter’s a bit surprised to see the thaumaturge blink, his eyes gone bright yellow-gold as he looked around.

“Odd.” Hunter thought aloud. “That should have been flawless... thaumaturge, have you any enchantments that affect teleposition?”

He turned to Hunter, shaking his head. “No, why?” His eyes were slitted like a cat’s, visible in the gloom as if they’d had a beam of sun turned upon them.

Cautiously, Hunter pulled a small, yellow flower from his pocket and, apologizing in advance, brushed it across the stranger. No reaction beyond mild confusion for both of them.

“Interesting, you lack the truest sign of lycanthropy, but you seem to be... mutant in some way. How did you accomplish this?”

The thaumaturge looked confused for several seconds before softly touching his face, realizing what the witch is talking about. “Oh, it’s, ah, nothing. Just a nightvision potion. I had to develop my own recipe, as nobody was willing to teach me.” The lie is poor, his stumbled words giving it away. What he’s covering up though, is less obvious. Still, Hunter did not pry. Secrets among Thaumaturges were things to be earned through great research or friendship with a practicer and were things not to be taken lightly.

“Ah, of course. I understand, my first attempt at a brew of that nature had its own issues. I’m not sure why, but for some reason everything I saw turned a very interesting shade of blue... Either way, I’m shocked that Slendy is keeping quiet. He should likely have a small railroad set up by now...”

“Weeeee!” Slendy cried as he went around his mini-coaster; it wasn’t much but it was his rollercoaster.

“Slendy, this is a friend, please refrain from irritating him until he is acclimated.” Hunter requested.

The mage crossed his arms across his chest, the simple brown suit rumpling under his arms. “He seems extremely childish.” he says, ignoring the internal urging to join in. ‘I’m an adult, after all, and should act like one,’ he thinks.

“He is, but unbelievably powerful. The headaches you mentioned are hard to avoid though. Now then, I assume you will require a space to set up the beginnings of your...” Hunter paused. “Lab? Is that what thaumaturgists call their places of practice and study?”

“Maybe, or maybe he wants to manufacture chemical X and bind it to some kids and create a super powered team of children who constantly save the town and beat the bad guys in the end!” Slendy said as he hopped out of the minecart and made his way over to the mage.

The mage shakes his head. “That sounds like a ridiculous idea for a play; no Thaumaturge would practice on another thinking being like that.” he turned haughtily away from the prankster to address Hunter. “As for your question, the Lab is the part where I work on experiments and develop the tools I’d need, a Study for learning and researching, and a backyard I’ve found works best for the practicing part.” He neglected to mention that he usually kept his ‘backyard’ overflowing with nasty monsters to test his works on.

Hunter turns to Slendy. “Would you be so kind as to... acommodate?”

“A tower is the preferable solution, a minimum of seventy blocks tall, no more than one hundred; circular, but not ovoid...” he continued on for nearly a full minute, listing off increasingly specific details about block placement and location of various components. When he finally finished, he ended with a small smirk, not having noticed Slendy idly entering the information in as it was rattled off instead of memorizing it.

“And away we go!” Slendy announced as he hit the enter key for the command block and spawned a round tower that was eighty-five blocks high and with more than enough room to test his experiments on various wildlife and filled it with needed materials.

The mage was genuinely shocked, mouth fallen open as he stared at the tower. Of course, he didn’t know that Slendy had simply saved the code for a standard tower on a piece of paper and simply copied it over, but the mage also didn’t need to know that.

Hunter, for his part, was proud of his friend for being wise enough to check his notes, and not simply ‘wing it’ like usual. “So, if we could continue on without further issue, I shall begin rationing the food I managed to barter for. It seems we will need money soon, I was only able to barter for what the woman called ‘the rejects’.”

The mage peered at the carrots. “... are they poisonous?” he asked, wondering what foul burst of flux resulted in the carrot shaped like a sleeping dog.

“I doubt it, but just in case, we should eat them slowly and await any side effects. I’ve had my share of poisons, but I’d be lying if I said I had any sort of resistance gained over the years.”

“I’ll try ‘em!” Slendy said as he grabbed a carrot and shoved it to his mouth but the fabric of his mask kept it from being eaten. “Why. Can’t. I. Eat. You?!” He said angrily as he kept attempting to feed his face with the odd carrot.

“I’ve told you to change your skin,” Hunter reminded his friend. “You reap what you sow. And speaking of sowing, I will at least try to plant one of these.”

“Plant the one that’s a normal-looking orange.” the Mage said, pointing at the brightest, most plasticky-looking carrot in the bunch, which had scared off the other buyers. “See? It’s all uniform, unlike the others.”

Hunter nodded, but also took a more scraggly carrot to compare them with after planting. Once planted as best he could figure, Hunter sighed and took a cautious bite out of another from the bunch. It tasted alright, nothing spectacular.

“I have some food with me still; it’s not much but it’ll be enough to see if either of you get sick.” the mage said, summoning a slab of cooked pork from his bag. He takes a few bites of it, eating quickly. “For once, I have to praise my forgetfulness.” he muttered.

“Hey, you got any fish fillets in there? Maybe some sushi?” Slendy asked as he hoped the mage would provide.

“I doubt he could at this very moment. As far as I know, thaumaturgy works its miracles through arcane manipulation, not merely spawning things. You on the other hand...”

“Oh yeah, doy, let me get us some fish!” He said as he tried to recall the code for cooked fish but when he hit enter he instead spawned a few silverfish. “Oh, not again!” he yelped, as the little, insectoid beasts went on the attack.

The meter-long creatures were at a disadvantage in the open forest, and the Thaumaturge backed up, wand at the ready, though he didn’t point and shoot yet; he didn’t have any spell foci that wouldn’t hurt Slendy or Hunter and could deal damage.

Hunter, for his part, yelled at Slendy. “You have a sword!”

“Oh yeah!” Slendy said as he drew his diamond sword and began slashing violently at the silverfish, knocking a few back, the little arthropods scuttling forward only to swept back, though with a near-dozen of them in the field, Slendy was rapidly getting surrounded.

The mage, realizing he had to act, strode forward, face set in a tight frown as he came at the hoard from the side, a silver-gray Focus appearing on his wand-topper. He pointed forward, and a wide cone of... something blew outwards, throwing all the Silverfish nearly twenty meters, scattering them through the forest... a few landing, unseen, on the Aquarium, and burrowing into the structure’s cobblestone supports, a couple others doing the same to the freshly-built tower. A dull, violet Focus replaces the silver one.

Hunter, for his part, memorized the location of the nearest infected block. If he could create a snare with which to trap one, it would prove useful in mutations. But he knew he had to be careful around the stone he hadn’t been looking at. Either way, he considered the entire event mostly a failure.

“Next time, why not spawn them already dead, so that if it is not, in fact, a fish... there is no issue?”

“Yeah, that was my bad guys.” Slendy admitted as he looked around to see if there were anymore left, being a bit paranoid.

“Now then, if we are done messing with forces that are currently incomprehensible...” Hunter began, sitting down by his garden. “I have plants to care for.”

A flash of violet light erupted from a nearby patch of open ground, marked with the Otherwhere Runes Hunter had laid down earlier. Inside the magical ring, a violet unicorn stood, blinking in surprise as she recognized the results of the spell she’s just reconstructed... and then threw up, completely unused to the strange, stretch-then-snap-to feeling of this form of translocation, and washing away one of the runes entirely.

Hunter sighed and, heading over to the new arrival, sat down to gently rub her along the back to hopefully calm her stomach. “Teleposition, and without a waystone? Astonishing feat, little one...”

“That was pretty cool, I still screw up my teleportations all the time, you didn’t hit a tree or anything.” Slendy said, amazed that this creature could do what he had nightmares about.

Hunter, for his part, nodded and his rubbing became slow, circular petting as he eased the unicorn... wait, wings? Unicorns didn’t have wings... what strange mutation was this?

“Are you alright?” The mage asked, the first to make sure she isn’t injured, kneeling next to the downed pegasus-unicorn hybrid. She nods, groaning and coughing.

“Oooh, Pinkie’s cupcakes aren’t nearly as good the second time around...” she moans, and the Mage sighs, checking his backpack for a bottle of water, sad to find he didn’t have any.

“Maybe she needs something to drink, let’s see if I can spawn something for her to drink…” Slendy said, as he began fiddling with the cube again and managed to spawn, not a bucket or vial of water, but a flowing block of water.

The cubic meter of fluid spread out from its position and, soaking the nearby area, Hunter sighed yet again, but took his chance to fill an empty jar he had kept and offered it to the pony. “You really are fascinating... to replicate teleposition without any physical damage with no object to direct you to a specific area... unheard of in witchcraft.”

As the pony drank slowly from the clay jar, she coughed once more but managed to mostly regain composure. “Guh. Thank you. I... who are you?”

“Hi, I’m Codename Slendy, but just call me Slendy.” The prankster said as he waved at her, whatever she was.

“I am Hunter, and we are from... elsewhere.”

“I am the Mage, and I am fleeing dark forces who burned down my library with me still in it.” Twilight looked aghast at his introduction, and immediately hugged him hard enough to drive the wind from him.

“Oh, you poor, poor thing!” she bawled, so sad for him it made the Mage more than a little uncomfortable. It did not help she was more or less in his lap, meaning her lunge almost knocked him flat into the muddy clay.

“Now then...” Hunter said, returning to the situation at hand. “You replicated a ritual without needing the primary focus. How, may I ask, did you accomplish this?”

“Focus? Oh, I just tied the arrays to my horn, aligned the ley line flow to the circle, and rebuilt the ghost of the spell from the ground up. The hardest part was trying to figure out where everything was connected; a huge amount of the tethers just drained straight into the grass, and it made the spell really inefficient.” Twilight said, looking up from the Mage’s chest. He whuffed a breath before it could get crushed from him again.

“Interesting, I’ve not heard of anyone using such a raw form of the arcane. But you sending power into the ground rather than drawing from nature is what caused you such discomfort. Witchery is about empowering oneself or objects with the blessings of nature, not the other way around.” Hunter continued, thinking aloud. “Although, you managed to replicate the effect rather flawlessly without any knowledge of its activation. Astounding... May I... have your name, please?”

“Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship! Well, Magic too, but that’s a sort of subset of the Friendship part.” she explains, letting go of the mage to get onto her own hooves, shakily.

“Royalty... of friendship you say?” Hunter questioned. “So, you have powers of bringing kinsmen together?”

“Uhm... well... I suppose I could probably find a spell for that... but mostly I try to make new friends and help friends become closer and renew old or faded friendships.” she said, blushing. “At, least, I think that’s it... I’ve only been a princess for a few months.”

Hunter silently questioned the logic behind this pony’s power if her main ability is for merely bringing people together. She had said she also represented magic, but that it was downplayed. “Yet you have an understanding of the roots of magic, enough to accomplish feats in an art you’ve never experienced, rocky as it was. Phenomenal, I must say. Not to mention very peculiar...” He looked at her horn. “And you say your horn was your focal point?”

“Yeah, most unicorns instinctively use their horns as foci for their spells, but I’ve learned to direct external spells through it if they would normally require an external focus. It lets me mimic other pony’s spellcasting and even replicate the abilities of some Artifacts, though that’s a little hard to do... well, I suppose it’d be easier now.” she rambled, gesturing towards her wings and looking dreamily in all directions as she contemplates magical theory.

“You sound like a Thaumaturge.” the Mage commented, watching passively.

“I just say she’s floofy.” Slendy chimed in happily.

“...nevertheless, yes, it sounds vaguely like what little I know of thaumaturgy.” Hunter agreed. “I assume your horn is made of alicorn, or is it a more magically conductive material?”

“Well while I’m at it, do you want anything princess?” Slendy asked, holding his command block in front of him.

“Uhm, yes, unicorn horn contains a well of Alicorn that calcifies as the horn grows, forming the outer layer. Inside is blood vessels and the well. That said, a pony with the traits of all three tribes is also called an Alicorn, because they’re considered a wellspring of a particular form of magic, stability, or other such conceptual energy.”

“Well, I commend you for your accomplishment, but I cannot advise you continue to, for lack of a better term, mangle my arts. It is very unhealthy.”

“I’m not mangling anything! Practice makes perfect.” she says indignantly.

“What she said, took me a while to get a hand at this command block, but now I can spawn anything with it.” Slendy added.

“Except useful things...” Hunter muttered under his breath, though he knew it wasn’t entirely true; the aquarium/house and the tower were both useful, even if he didn’t make the second one himself. He returned his attention to the pony. “Well, miss Sparkle, you are formidable but your execution lacks discipline or knowledge of the true arts of nature. You managing to appear here mostly unharmed is shocking and worthy of praise, but the fact that your execution was so... well, generic, I don’t foresee any true potential in my field yet. You have much to learn.”

The mage stepped into the conversation, “And it seems you’re practicing thaumaturgy without foresight, casting before testing and ignoring the consequences. Like an apprentice, you lacked the vision to test in a smaller scale, instead building the spell framework -without physical objects to anchor the power, if your description was accurate - and immediately following through. With a reckless attitude like that, you should avoid the magical arts entirely, especially thaumaturgy.”

Twilight looked aghast at the two of them, her wings drooping to the mud below.

“Do not fret.” Hunter assured the pony. “I’m sure you’d be able to find a mentor to help guide you, and if not we’d be happy to set you on the right path.”

“But... I already had a mentor! She taught me so much, I’ve surpassed all her lessons! I’ve mastered over twenty-five branches of magic through self-study alone, and repaired a spell thought impossible!” she said, looking between the two magicians before her. “I’m not just an apprentice!” her exclamation made her sound young, and desperate for approval.

Hunter chuckled, even as the Mage stroked his beardless chin. “Calm yourself, I’m sure you are very formidable, I’m just saying you lack direction. Try your hand at a single art and master it before delving into the root of magic. That’s why there are so many branches after all. You cannot climb a tree and start from a branch. You must scale the trunk first.”

Slendy pauses, having just jumped up to grab a tree branch, having intended to pull himself up. He let go and quietly landed, then whistled innocently. Thankfully for Hunter’s proverb, this had happened outside Twilight’s field of view.

“But, I have mastered those branches! My Fate-given talent is magic!” she says, pointing at the brand on her rear end.

“Interesting mark, but I see merely a starburst. If that is to represent magic as a whole, where is the hints of restoration symbolism? Conjuration, or even life magic?” Hunter asked. “I don’t doubt you have immense potential, but you are too spread out. Focus is key in any field of the arcane.”

As Twilight’s cheeks puffed up in anger, the Mage stepped closer, trying to speak soothingly. “It’s alright, nobody can master every magical art. Even the greatest Thaumaturge would admit they cannot perform every form of magic, no matter how deep they delve into it.”

The pony seemed to deflate, pausing in a position that made her look sad; posture, defeated. Then she straightened out, looking defiant and confident. “No! I refuse to believe I can’t do anything I put my mind to! I will show you what I’m capable of!” she said, charging her horn as she spoke, and vanishing with a fizzle-pop common in higher-strength teleportation, as at a range of over two kilometers it’s impossible to coordinate a jump without any energy leakage without machine assistance - like a Command Block.

Those have their own problems, but they are much subtler.

The witch, sighing, and said aloud to the absent unicorn-pegasus. “I would be more than willing to help. I meant no insult, I just merely tried to remind you that magic is not an obstacle to overcome or master.”

The Mage sighed as well, and patted his new friend on the arm, glowing eyes soft with sympathy. “I’m sure she’ll be fine; if she has a Master already, they’ll help her through this. I do have to wonder how old she is, though, I am still apprenticed to my own Mentor, and I’ve worked under him for nearly twelve years.”

“Twelve years? Took me that long to get to college. And you studied one thing that long?” Slendy asked, which revealed that he only half listened to the young mage.

“... Yes, it has taken me that long, and I am still an apprentice. I have learned much, and have far more still to discover. I’ve barely filled out my...” he trails off, blinking, before swearing vigorously. “I forgot my Thaumonomicon! All of them!”

“That is... your text of power, yes?” Hunter asked, knowing a little about Thaumaturgy, but not enough to tote around. “I understand what it’s like to go without literary guides. I lost my notes for a fortnight and during that time I nearly starved myself, not wanting to eat anything at all for risk of harming myself.”

The Mage chuckles wryly, “It’s the core of all Thaumcrafting; without one, I have only the designs I’ve memorized personally, as it stores the more... dangerous parts of the knowledge within itself for later perusal. I’ll need to get one before I can continue my studies. IT’d be foolhardy to do otherwise... I need to get a large, blank book, preferably bound with leather from a horse, though cow leather works as well.” he said, looking unhappy.

“Perhaps, if we found a library, they could direct us to where we could go to have one made. Horse leather may be... questionable to them, but cows should be safe. The stage I think we’d need a librarian's help for is perhaps a printing press.” Hunter says, thinking aloud. “I have some reeds, but they are but sprouts. A full book would take at least a few weeks worth of waiting, a large tome, likely a month.”

“Or I could just try to spawn one, what was it called again?” Slendy asked, staring at his cube with which he coded what he thought the title of the book was.

Much like thaumaturgy, Hunter knew little of the magic of the command block, but one thing he knew was that it required more knowledge of an object, beyond its name. More accurately, he found, was it worked by summoning something based on its true name. Discerning which had what true name was something he’d hoped to accomplish with his Seer Stone.

Slendy finished the typing before the Mage could respond, summoning not a Thaumonomicon... but a Thaumium Ingot, which thudded heavily to the ground, leaving the Mage gaping in surprise. Slendy erased the bad command line, just before the Mage began asking for him to do it again.

“Sorry for the bad coding.” Slendy apologized as he got rid of the foreign object by typing in a basic ‘delete’ command.

“No! Wait! I... I could’ve used that...” the Mage said, looking crestfallen.

“It was only a chunk of metal.” Slendy said, not knowing what he did wrong.

“Much like that Null Catalyst was merely ‘off-white powder’?” Hunter mumbled to the side.

The Mage sat off to the side, taking deep breaths, knowing the idiot was only trying to be helpful.

A Thaumometer, Trombone, and Thaumium Hoe later, all but the last having been deleted before the Mage could protest, and Slendy is no closer to figuring out the spelling of ‘Thaumonomicon’ than before. The Mage had left for his tower, sulking in the unfurnished space.

Hunter, managing to take the interesting gardening tool, looked it over. It was a standard hoe for all he could see, but the related material which the mage had so coveted... Perhaps he could do something with this...

“Did I do something wrong?” Slendy asked.

“Yes, right after doing something right, I’m afraid.” Hunter said as he turned to his garden. “Now then, now that I have a proper tool, I shall begin making a more useful garden.” with that, Hunter got to work tilling the ground.

Slendy sighed, and went back to trying to remember the ‘make cooked pork’ command.