Guidance 12 – To find a teacher

The trio moved out together, but they didn’t stay together.

They reached the training place for Rogues first. It may have been a bit odd to have a school for a Class with that particular title out in the open, but everyone knew that adventurers had to employ their services sometimes. Additionally, the large, windowless block of a building was dedicated more to the martial arts of the Class, than it was to the underhanded skills of lockpicking and sneaking.

Reysha entered the dark building cheerfully. Aclysia and Apexus had their reservations about separating without making absolutely certain there were no traps around, but the tiger girl had insisted they were being absurdly paranoid. Now the two were left on their own devices.

They took a small detour to visit Korith, before heading to the place Aclysia would be taught. The kobold was not around and they had nothing to write to her on, so they moved on. They could always return another day.

In a rundown monastery of dull grey stone, Apexus and Aclysia found a bald man. His lanky build and wrinkled skin gave him the look of someone near starvation. He moved with certainty though, his grey robe flowing over the undecorated floor. “A new acolyte?” he asked, narrowing his brown eyes. “An angel.”

Aclysia did not freeze. It would have been foolish of her to expect a retired Priest to miss her true nature. “An exiled one, temporarily,” she reported. “As I am, you owe me no veneration.”

“I’d never owe you veneration,” the teacher responded harshly, leaving the metal fairy speechless. Before Apexus could consider stepping in, he continued in his almost bored voice. “I’m Pronthin. I can teach you Holy magic, but do not expect to hear prayer from me.” He turned towards one of the clear windows of the monastery. “You can join the others if you so wish. It’s what they do at this hour.”

“I would prefer to,” Aclysia said, somewhat confused by this Priest. “May I ask that you keep my nature a secret?”

“Sure,” Pronthis shrugged carelessly, then made a tired gesture for Aclysia to follow him. “I exchange coin for training. As long as you have coin, I don’t care about the rest.” The metal fairy gave Apexus one last glance, then went ahead. She disappeared in the depth of the corridors lying behind the entrance hall.

Leaving Apexus to go outside and spread his wings. With a mighty leap and several powerful beats of his wings, the humanoid slime rose up into the air. Gradually the ground under him became smaller, as he resisted the pull of gravity again and again, until he could see much of the island below. He wasn’t the only humanoid up in the sky. Less than two dozen, they moved through the sky, people with wings, magical boots, or flying spells.

Apexus studied them for a bit, while staying at his current altitude. When he had gleaned all from them that he could from a distance, his thoughts returned to the question at hand: where was he supposed to go?

Unlike Aclysia and Reysha, he had no previous Class to continue training in. Wherever he would start, he would do so as a complete novice. People would wonder how he got so far without any Skills or Spells. Wonder was not the same as disbelief, however. It wasn’t unheard of, only rare.

He wanted to fight with his hands. He wanted to be able to protect his party. He wanted to remain mobile. He wanted to be able to help wherever he was needed. He wanted to have some basic understanding of Martial Arts and Spells. It was still an open question if he could even wield either. He did lack a magical cortex. Not that he had been able to cast when he had temporarily formed one either. It could have been just a lack of knowledge. They had to figure that out, before they went ahead and tried to get one. All of his criteria put together, the Class he had been assigned by others before came to mind.

A Monk.

There was a school for Monks on the island. It was on the northwest end of the island. Had he moved on foot, he would have required most of the day to get there. Instead, he could turn in the wind and swiftly glide there. It still took time, just a whole lot less.

The temple of the Monks came into view soon. Compared to the other two schools, it was an impressive building. A large building with white, plastered walls between red wood frames, with a blue tiled roof, sitting atop a marble podium, at the centre of a massive courtyard. There were smaller buildings at the side, used either as temporary homes, storage, or kitchens. Despite the steady tumble of autumn leaves, the roofs and courtyard were almost entirely clean, the stone floor smooth and barren.

Forty-three people stood in square formation in the courtyard. An equal distance between all of them, more than large enough for two other people to move between even as the trainees went through various motions. Many did so in perfect accordance to the shouts of a third instructor, who stood on the stairs of the temple. A few, the newer recruits, struggled to keep up or stretch their limbs in the demanded ways. Only just before he landed, did Apexus notice an old man sipping tea sitting off to the side.

The man continued to drink, while one of the two instructors in the courtyard came over to Apexus, who stood underneath the gate that separated dirt road from clean courtyard.

After stopping in front of the humanoid slime, the first thing the instructor did was look at Apexus’ feet. He nodded approvingly, seeing that the slime was still outside temple grounds. Much to the slime’s confusion, who wondered if his shoes were too dirty. “Are you here to seek our teaching or challenge our temple?” the man asked.

Tilting his head, the slime asked, “Why would I challenge a building?” They realized, roughly at the same time, where the newcomer’s confusion lay. Apexus cleared up his mistake, too late to be seen as normal, “Ah, you mean the temple as the institution. No, I do not wish to challenge. I want to test if the Monk Class would suit me.”

“Someone of your build usually fits the Brawler or the Warrior more,” the instructor hummed, looking at the one-head taller humanoid slime. “Monkhood is much more a state of mind than other Classes. If you feel at peace in our spiritual sanctum, that is the greatest sign this path is yours to tread. Please, step into our temple.”

Apexus didn’t do so immediately. He noticed that all of the trainees were barefoot, despite the climate. The instructor wore shoes. Notably clean shoes, which he had put on inside the temple grounds. “Should I take these off?” the humanoid slime asked. It wasn’t only a question of manners. He hated how the leather dulled his tremor senses.

Unable to read minds, the instructor only thought he was looking at a very attentive (potential) student. Which was correct, all things being equal. He nodded approvingly. “That would be proper.” Once Apexus had taken them off and stepped aside, careful not to get any dirt on his feet in the process, the instructor pointed the slime at a shelf previously hidden by the corner of the gate. “Please, leave them there.”

The instructor waited expectantly, while Apexus took several seconds staring at the shelf. ‘Why is he so patient?’ Apexus asked himself. By now he had gotten used to people giving him judgemental looks when he deliberated something that was normal for the average humanoid. He shrugged those glances off, he couldn’t help it if he didn’t know something. That there was a complete and utter lack of care for, and even approval of, his behaviour in this place mildly disturbed him.

That disturbance accompanied him while he looked at the shelf. It was one continuous plank of wood, fashioned from a red tree, with various cloth pieces with symbols on them dangling from a roof extending from the wall above. The cloths separated the stretch into various segments with the intangible walls their presence created, visually. There was a single pair of very fine boots close to the gate, then a gap of three, and then a large stretch of various boots.

“Those belong to the trainees?” Apexus asked. The instructor nodded. The more important question was the next one. “Then this one belongs to the leader of the temple?” He pointed at the fine pair next to the gate and got another nod. The slime blatantly looked over to the old man sipping tea.

He didn’t look the part of a leader. Clearly past his prime, the averagely tall man was of a humble build, even somewhat chubby. His wrinkly skin was spotty, his long hair and even longer beard white and carefully kempt. While he was being stared at, the old Monk just lowered his head in greeting.

“Where may I put my shoes?” Apexus asked, having experienced too much to think that old men weren’t dangerous.

“Appropriate would be the left end of the board,” the instructor recommended. ‘Initial oddity aside, this one seems to possess the observation required for monkhood,’ he thought and gestured for the visitor to come along. They walked off to the side, where the instructor told Apexus to sit on a pillow for the moment. “You cannot join until we have taught you the stances, so you can only watch for the start.”

“Do I not have to pay?” Apexus asked, before the instructor walked away.

“We operate from the fortune of the founder of the temple and benevolent donations,” the instructor hastily explained, before returning to the training. Apexus watched for half an hour, while the various trainees were corrected in their movements wherever necessary. Sometimes he looked over to the leader of the temple, who waved at one occasion. Uncertain what else to do, Apexus waved back.

The newest recruits were separated from the others eventually, with the more advanced ones staying with two of the instructors and the rest following the remaining one to where Apexus and the old man were. Their uniforms, brown robes and baggy pants, weren’t unlike Apexus’ own clothes.

Apexus was then made to stand up and taught various stances. Many of them, most of them in fact, were utterly useless to him. They stretched muscles, strained stamina, and trained balance. Only the last of those three was something the slime could profit from. There was a calming element to repeatedly executing the same movements, however. That, the slime very much appreciated. Like most physical exercises, he picked each stance up quickly. It was all about deciphering which of his self-made muscles required movement.

Everything about this place appeared fitting to Apexus. His oddity didn’t stand out as much here, the people dressed like him (if for a different reason), and the description of the Class matched with how he wanted to fight.

Yet, as the old man approached, he felt a sense of discomfort rise inside him. “My name is Maltos,” the leader of the Monks greeted him.

“Apexus,” the humanoid slime answered.

“A somewhat pompous name,” Maltos laughed and gave the slime a friendly pat on the shoulder. Barely, the slime managed to stay still under the short touch. “Come along. I like to talk to you new students at this hour.” Apexus nodded and joined in the small group of aspiring Monks, walking behind their teacher. The friendly voice scratched in his ears with duplicity. “What is the Class most akin to the Monk?” he asked. Maltos opened every lecture with a question.

The students got thinking. Quietly, they followed along, walking from one corner of the central marble podium to another. Once there, the first student provided an answer. “The Priest, because they too find their power in spirituality.”

“Priests find their power in faith and not even that is true for all of them,” Maltos responded patiently. “Try again, you will find the answer.”

They made their way along the back wall, another response ringing out. “The Druid, because they too attune themselves to the world around them.”

“Druids, and Shamans for that matter, share more with us than Priests, but they too are connected to outside forces,” Maltos denied again. With a humble chuckle, he added, “Do not worry, students, it is normal to wonder for a while. If you wish, you can guess. I will teach you what the differences are.”

“The Mage… because… they channel power from within?” Someone made a random guess.

“Channelling power from within makes us about as akin to one another as we are to the Rogues for using our hands to accomplish tasks,” Maltos lectured calmly, never appearing anything else but a nice old man. “What would be your guess, Apexus?”

The way his name was called by the old man, patiently, friendly, without any ill motive, made the slime’s membrane crawl. “Yes?” he responded.

“What would be your guess?” the old teacher asked and turned around. In the middle of the movement, he suddenly stopped and started coughing. The cough was deep, phlegmy, old, typical for a man this age, and familiar. Immediately one of the instructors hurried over and handed him a cup of tea. He took a sip, let out a long breath. “Thank you… Apexus?”

“Thank you, Apexus,” a different voice echoed in the slime’s ears. A different old man, at a different time, outwardly friendly, way past his prime, a teacher to bring to him what he needed to know, hiding a city-eating monster inside.

“Apexus?” the old man’s voice reached him again, rising in volume. The slime wasn’t sure who he heard. The Monk, the lonely man in his hidden house, or the Warlock crying in rage. “Apexus? APEXUS?”

Whichever it was, the slime was already in the air.