“Who are they?” I asked.
“Eresin and Myrdel,” Tymo answered. “Said to be the two greatest spirits who gifted Augmentation to mortals on our plane. They came to blows, however, after the mortals took their gifts and used them against each other. Eresin, the lion, believed that the knowledge should have been gifted to a precious few, and guarded safely until the mortals were ready for it.”
I eyed Eresin’s snarling jaws, rippling muscles, and deep, ruby-red eyes.
“Myrdel believed the opposite,” Tymo continued. “She believed in the goodwill of mortals and bestowed her power upon all who came to learn from her. Ultimately, of course, the dragon triumphed over Eresin. It’s said that Myrdel began the first guild in the Seven Realms.”
“You keep it here as a reminder,” I observed.
“Of course. The monasteries followed Eresin’s philosophy. To dispense knowledge, one must first understand what they are teaching. To incorrectly dispense too much, too soon, or not enough, too late, is to doom those who walk this plane, Swordslinger. You would do well to remember that.” Tymo waved away the thought with a flick of his hand. “Of course, Myrdel was gracious in victory. She allowed the monasteries to exist as places of contemplation and learning for those who graduated her schools. That is our role, first and foremost. To guard knowledge and teach it to the worthy.”
“The monk in Danibo Forest didn’t see it that way.”
“And he has paid for his sin,” Tymo said. “But, to your training. Have you ever channeled a technique purely from the environment around you?”
I nodded. “Crashing Wave works best when you’re around a source of water. I’ve pulled Stinging Palm from a shelf beside my enemy once. But it still used my own Vigor as its primary source of power.”
“Environmental Augmentation is a far more subtle art than simply casting a technique from your surroundings,” Tymo told me. “First, you must understand the nature of the Vigor that flows in the world around you. From there, you draw upon it as the source of your techniques, or Physical Augmentation.”
“That would explain why I couldn’t put the monk down,” I said to the Immense Blades. “If he was constantly drawing his power from his surroundings, then he wasn’t going to run out of Vigor in a hurry.”
“You will learn this power,” Nydarth said encouragingly. “Listen closely, Master.”
Tymo directed me to draw Vigor from the monastery floor and use it to light a candle. I could sense the power of the monastery, but I couldn’t touch it. No matter how hard I tried, the raw Vigor around me simply wouldn’t flow into my pathways. Tymo watched me closely as I tried again and again to overcome the obvious barrier between the environment and my will.
“Supper approaches,” Tymo informed me, a few hours later.
I stretched and bit back a growl of irritation. The Archpriest stood and abruptly left the hall. Normally, Tymo was happy to give me pointers or explain a concept to me, but he had been content to sit and watch me struggle, without a word of encouragement in passing.
It was out of character for him.
I dismissed my irritation as I stood. All of it was a learning process, and while I learned fast, I couldn’t pick up the magical equivalent of particle physics in a day. I stepped into the mess hall and ran straight into a crushing hug from Kegohr. Mahrai and Vesma exchanged a grin as I struggled to escape Kegohr’s grip.
“It’s good to see you, Effin!” he said.
“Likewise, big guy. But back off the ribs. I need those.”
I explained what had happened on our quest to find the missing monk, recounting the story to them, blow by blow. They stared at me in amazement as I detailed the fight with the monk, and I cut it short when the other monks arrived with dinner.
“Wait, so how did you kill him?” Kegohr asked.
“Shh,” Vesma said, and punched his arm. “Later.”
The monks set out our food without a word, said their silent prayer, and dug in. Tymo sat at the head of the table, looking over us gravely. The flattering and encouraging persona he usually evinced had vanished. Tymo reminded me more of the Hierophant now, with his clipped tone and no-nonsense demeanor.
“I’ve established a few more rigorous methods for your training sessions,” Tymo said. “My brothers and I will monitor your training closely, and meditation in the evenings is mandatory. Any excursions outside the monastery will only be permitted with the express permission and accompaniment of your teachers.”
Mahrai’s gaze screamed bloody murder as she stared at Tymo. “You’re going to keep us locked up in here like children? What’s to stop us from leaving?”
“If you wish to continue with our training,” Tymo said coldly, “you will hold to our restrictions. This is essential for your growth. The Swordslinger has brought a serious matter to our attention, and as such, we must do everything we can to help you all to combat it, should you be directed to do so.”
“The Swordslinger has a name,” Vesma said quietly.
“I’m sorry?” Tymo said sharply.
Vesma cleared her throat and met his eyes without flinching. “His name is Ethan. Swordslinger might be his title, but he has a name, Master Tymo.”
“And he is welcome to it,” Tymo retorted. “Are my instructions clear?”
Kegohr shifted uncomfortably beside me as Tymo swept his gaze over us. I made a show of nonchalantly eating rice. I flipped the chopsticks around in my hand and placed them neatly beside my bowl before finally meeting the Archpriest’s imperious gaze.
“Crystal clear,” I said. “Don’t leave the house, don’t play with the other kids, and don’t look at anyone the wrong way. All things we’re used to, right, guys?”
Tymo's mouth hardened into a straight line, but he returned to his food as if he hadn’t heard me. My friends finished their food at a leisurely pace, and only
