“Is that where you learned how to harness the Vigor in the environment?” I asked, recalling how he had used the sun to empower his techniques.
“Among other things,” Xilarion replied.
“What do you advise?” I asked carefully. “Their appearance seems to have you on edge, if you don’t mind my saying so. Do the monks pose a danger to the province?”
“No, their path is a true one. But the timing of their appearance vexes me.” Xilarion waved a hand to dismiss the thought. “My advice to you is to take up their offer and train with them. Their methods are traditional, and their intentions are pure. In bygone times, the monasteries were responsible for training would-be Swordslingers and building upon their understanding of fundamental Augmentation principles.
“The Path of the Immortal Swordslinger transcends that of the Wandering Path,” he continued. “But it is best that you hear it from them. I would not have a Swordslinger fail from a lack of internal strength or poor teaching, if I can help it.”
“I’ll leave tomorrow,” I said, “and do my guild proud.”
“You’ve already proven yourself capable of that much,” Xilarion said with a warm smile. “And there is a hall full of people below us who have assembled to celebrate your ascension to Center Disciples. You’ve kept them waiting long enough.”
I took his last observation as a dismissal and rose from my chair. I bowed to Xilarion, who inclined his head in return, then left his office with more unanswered questions than I’d had when I’d arrived.
Chapter Six
I went down two flights of stairs, through the courtyard, and into the main hall.
The shrill of wood flutes and the thrum of lyres drifted through the high doorway as I entered the hall. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted mountain boar, fresh vegetables, and casks of wine. High-spirited conversation battled with the music as people raised their voices to be heard above the din.
A cluster of initiates danced in a space at the back of the hall as they took full advantage of the event. I noticed that the guild members kept their distance from the Wysaros, who had taken up their seats at the places of honor at the heads of the tables. I slipped in as quietly as I could and scanned the room for my friends. Kegohr’s mass of blue-gray fur caught my eye on the far left.
A few people greeted me with cheers and hearty slaps on the back. I offered them smiles and polite greetings, but I needed to tell the others about our newest mission. It took a few minutes to finally slide onto the bench between Kumi and Kegohr. Faryn beamed at me from across the table and raised her goblet to me. On my right, Vesma chatted with Mahrai about the earlier bouts. I tore a chunk off a roasted quail with a pair of chopsticks and dug in.
“So, you’ve finally returned,” Vesma said. “Where have you been?”
“Xilarion wanted to see me,” I answered. “Something about our next task.”
“Already?” Mahrai complained.
“I’ve seen you going stir-crazy in here.” Kegohr stripped meat away from a boar’s hind leg. “Don’t make out like you don’t want to get back on the road.”
Mahrai huffed and took a long sip of her wine. “I don’t like being used. What does he want, anyway? Does another province need saving?”
“Not quite,” I said. “He wants us to go to Dying Sun Monastery to train.”
“But the monasteries don’t exist anymore,” Vesma said. “They all vanished years ago.”
“Well, it sounds like one of them has returned,” I said. “Where I’m from, most of the martial arts monasteries are combat-oriented. There are others who do a lot of meditation and ascetic practice, but I doubt it’s the same here.”
Kumi furrowed her brow. “There’s no magic in your world. Why would your monks meditate if they can’t Augment?”
“Something about transcending the flesh and becoming one with the universe, or focusing on their Deity,” I replied. “They have their own paths, but none of them involve throwing fireballs around.”
“Actually, I have heard something that might be related to the monastery,” Kumi said. “I heard some of the initiates talking two days ago. Some rumor about a temple that appeared on the mountain. I thought they were speaking about some local legend, not an actual place.”
I considered the thought. “Xilarion said that this monastery had only just ‘re-emerged.’ Maybe it’s the same place. Is it possible to hide an entire structure with magic?”
“Says the man who took down a portal into the demonic realm,” Vesma said. “Of course, it is. There’s more to magic than simple Augmentation. Plenty of magic occurs naturally.”
“Along the Diamond Coast, legends have it that the monks were originally caretakers of the temples,” Kumi said. “They kept them well-maintained and led the people in the worship of the gods in the Temple of the Deep. But after my grandfather passed, they vanished without any sign and left behind their practices to the King of the Qihin.”
“Any mention of where they went?” I asked.
Kumi shook her head. “The legends don’t tell us more than that.”
“If we leave tradition behind for a moment,” Vesma interrupted, “I can tell you what I’ve read. The histories have a little to say about the monks, but after the Wine Wars, not much is said of them.”
“There you go again with your books!” Kegohr laughed.
“I’m the only reason you passed your written exam,” Vesma said, “and you love me for it. But to return to my earlier point, Kumi’s information is accurate. The monks were always caretakers of shrines and temples. But there are mentions made of an agreement with the guilds to train their best Augmenters toward a deeper understanding of internal pathways.”
“Which lines up with what Xilarion
