History of Masters
“Before anythin’ else, care to explain this behavior of the Vanguard ye’re talkin’ ‘bout, lad?” Midan and two of his crew gathered at the ‘foyer’ of his ruined house. Rubble and dust surrounded them. Any precious household item, be it a figure, a flower pot, paintings, and whatever else were remnants of their former pristine forms.
Frein nodded, organizing his thoughts into words. It would’ve been best to discuss this matter on the wall itself, but it was hours away. And they had to get back for dinner.
“Well, based on my understanding, when a practitioner uses Meiyal Arts, their marks push Milled meiyal into a pattern they envisioned and manifest them into the desired form, hence Drawing them into reality. If I utilize an observation Meiyal Art and fortify my focus with Siffera, I can see the flow of meiyal run in those patterns. The flow shows signs of tampering, which, after discussing it with Katherine, leads me to conclude these are traces of meiyal signature.
“Of course, when I try to mimic the patterns, it doesn’t work—because they’re not mine in the first place,” he mumbled with a hint of frustration in the end. “In any case, the meiyal flowing throughout this wall don’t look like their patterns have been manipulated by Meiyal Arts. It’s like they naturally formed into this structure.”
“So ye can see the meiyal flow and patterns, eh?”
“That’s a skill reserved for Virtuosos,” Kristel commented. She was content enough to observe on the side, but couldn’t help implying the question.
“Yes, but it’s not specific for them” Frein answered both of them, showing his six marks. “Siffera’s pretty much the only Meiyal Art I know aside from the basic ones. Dedicated all my time to honing it rather than learning other Arts.”
“Mind if I test that, lad? If ye can see the flow and patterns, ye?”
Frein frowned a little, but he had no reason to refuse. “Sure.”
Midan lifted a hand and asked Frein to pay attention to it. Meiyal began to emerge from his fingertips, coalescing into solid rock at the center of his palm. The pattern was a solid shape of a mountain, almost too straight of a triangle.
“That, right there, is Meiyal Art; one I’m used to seeing. The pattern is a rigid triangle oriented like a mountain,” Frein explained.
Midan nodded in agreement and erased the Art from reality. “Next.” He turned his hand towards a piece marble pillar on the floor. It started to melt, sort of liquifying to change shape, assuming the form of a spear in the master’s hand.
“Now that is something else entirely.” Frein tried to deduce what had happened, crouching and leaning toward the spear. “The meiyal’s all natural, there’s almost no flow. No signs of Milled meiyal or signature. But aren’t you supposed to absorb the meiyal into your system, and then use it? You just outright made the spear from that marble.”
“Aye, this was how the Vanguard was built.” Midan spun the spear around his hands a few times, then threw it to his side. Frein caught a superficial snap, a break in the master’s concentration. The weapon immediately liquified and turned back to the same piece of marble debris it had been earlier.
“Meiyal Weaving, they called it in the books. It’s a technique believed to be used by everyone back in ancient times when Brymeia only had one kingdom. Now people have forgotten it, and since Iristans have meiyal marks now, only me and me crew ever use it.”
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Frein looked at Kristel who had the same shocked expression as he had.
“This is amazing, why not teach this to everyone?” she asked.
“Meiyal Arts are easier to learn, m’lass,” Midan began. “We’ve never developed any practical applications fer Meiyal Weaving that can outclass our Meiyal Arts, except fer making structures. Rules are also different. Me and me crew all have affinity fer the meiyal flowing through stones, dirt, rocks, and minerals, but we can barely influence the ones in the air.”
Midan instructed his crew to begin repairing sections of the house, assigning one to the kitchen walls and the other outside towards the gate.
“Meiyal from stones and earth are organized and tame. But they’re also heavy, and quite stubborn when it comes to change. They always be wanting to return to their real formation. Takes ‘em some convincing.”
“So, you regularly need to check on them?” Frein guessed, following the crewmember in the kitchen and observing his actions. Already, a big portion of the wall had been Weaved back to the way it was, before the Fallen wrecked the place.
He saw himself at that corner, shielding Midan’s wife and daughter from the collapsing ceiling. He couldn’t forget that feeling. It was too close for comfort, and yet it was a rush. The entire battle ran in his head. What could have made it easier? What would have made it worse? What would he do if there were two Nightmares instead? What if he ran out of meiyal in that situation?
He tried to make the situation worse in his head until he couldn’t find an answer he could deliver in the present if the hypothetical question suddenly became true. Things could always get worse, and he had to prepare for those the most. But no matter how worse the situation turned out to be, his answer always surmised into three simple words.
Just get stronger.
“You, okay?” Kristel’s brought him back to reality.
Frein blinked. “Yeah, sorry.” He turned to Midan. “Sorry, I missed the answer.”
“Ye sure yer okay, lad?”
Frein nodded.
“Okay, then. To answer yer question, fer somethin’ as big as the Vanguard, it be a year—more or less—and more people before the earth accepts its new form. Smaller ones like this house are easier since we’re just bringing ‘em back to the way they were.”
Outside, the gate had completely returned to normal. The metal grates, firmly fastened on its hinges. The marble finish, polished and beautiful. Only the damaged plants remain, but they could be easily replaced.
Even the door was repaired. Frein swore it didn’t have the same design. It now showcased a beautiful arch with swirly grooves on the side and opened in the middle.
It only took thirty minutes to repair the entirety of the first floor.
“How long does it take to learn this?” Frein asked aloud, not being hopeful. This discipline, Meiyal Weaving, didn’t seem to be at odds with Meiyal Arts the same way Arts and Armaments made it difficult for each other to learn at the same time. Meaning, it might be easier—thus, more practical—to learn Weaving rather than consider Armaments as an option.
It didn’t hurt to hope, but Frein preferred not to cling on it.
“Been learnin’ from me master since youth, lad. And it’s a nonendin’ discovery.”
Frein did his best not to show his disappointment. “I see.” He faked his nods and held his sighs. “I’ve learned a lot from this, Master Midan. Thank you. We should be heading back now.”
“Thank you, Master Midan,” Kristel repeated. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Outside, Testra waited for them. She wore her usual saddle which currently held a large basket that smelled of the meat pie. The yuma stood as soon as she saw them, munching at some sort of treat. Kristel gave her a large helping of appreciative strokes.
Frein couldn’t help but see a ‘kid’ playing with a winged-dog almost three times larger than her. He appreciated the light mood they gave him, indirectly helping him move on from the disappointment. The knowledge would surely help in some way or another, but learning it would be a waste of time he didn’t have.
“Frein, lad,” Midan called from behind, his eyes showing concern. “Ye’re the first Visitor of Irista Nation, so me words ain’t much. But I’ve heard from others that Visitors are well favored by meiyal.”
He pulled a book from his Spatiera and gave it to Frein. “These’re all we know ‘bout Meiyal Weaving. Study it and see fer yerself if ye can use it or not.”
Frein took the book and deposited it in his own Spatiera. It took a small amount of meiyal to store. That didn’t bother him, but something else did.
“Who’s others?”
Midan smiled, appreciating the Visitor’s sharp senses. “The faunels, lad. You need to look for them.”
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