It was a strange feeling, to be standing in front of a person with the power to level several villages by herself. Maiz hadn’t really given himself much time to consider what he’d experienced in the training fields several days ago. In fact, he’d felt quite detached about the whole experience. Yes he’d worried about his friends, but presumably Hugan and Lila had been transported somewhere safer than Maiz had. As for Ziya and Sifet, Maiz knew that Hugan would never have left their side unless their safety was guaranteed. And of course, the dehydration had set in by the end of his second day, leaving him too far gone to really consider anything.

But now he was, while not fed, well watered and rested. The bracelet on his arm had seen to any damage he might have sustained on his journey, and he was staring at the word Master written in spectral green once again.

Stay calm. Almost as shocking as the first part of the woman’s title was the second. She was a Warrior Monk, like Lila. Like Maiz himself could be, if he chose. Is it worth the risk? I could learn from her. There were so many variables here, and he had seconds to think it through. Polite practice dictated that he introduce himself and show his title in response to her greeting. 

“Oh, don’t be so afraid, young man. Come now, tell me your Name.” The woman’s voice interrupted his frantic thoughts, and Maiz gave up. He was not going to attempt to deceive a Master and pretend to be someone of her own title.

“I am Maiz, ma’am.” As he said the words, Maiz bowed deeply, willing his own title to appear. ‘Ma’am’ seemed wholly inadequate to describe this woman, but there was no more formal term Maiz was aware of, save for those given to nobles.

When Maiz lifted his head up, the woman was studying the words above it intently. Yet she was looking at them in the same way Maiz might have read a historical treatise: interesting, but not in a personal sense. Clearly Maiz himself wasn't as eye-catching as his title, which was probably a good thing: the last time he’d lied to Master, he’d ended up on the ground, tasting blood before he passed out. Unlike Hakim, this woman probably didn’t care about Maiz enough to notice his deception.

“I see. A Spellsword in the flesh. I met one of your title once, young man. A true terror in battle.”

Maiz’s eyebrows lifted involuntarily. “You have?” he blurted out, then added “ma’am,”with a deep blush.

“Oh, yes. I have seen many Masters who live in this region. Many come here to challenge the Temple.”

Of course it’s a Master. But still... another Spellsword. “If it isn’t too much trouble ma’am, could you perhaps tell me his name? Such a person could teach me much.”

The woman sighed, eyes far away. “He had a very nice set of attack spells. More variety than most, I must say. Made him unpredictable. Oh, I do not remember his name.”

Right. So I should be on the lookout for another godsdamned avatar of destruction, just in case they’d be willing to teach me something. Gods, angels, and Masters. The most reliable teachers in the world.

“Uh, if you don’t mind me asking ma’am, why is it that so many come to this place?” There would be time to find out more about this mysterious Spellsword later, and he probably wasn’t getting that information from this... Isa, in any case. Too much of a health risk.

She shot him a slightly puzzled gaze, which quickly resolved into understanding. “Ah, yes. My apologies, forgot about your earlier question.”

Again, Maiz was reminded that to this woman, he was only slightly more interesting than a horse of a particularly rare breed. It was actually quite a nice feeling, all things considered.

“The Temple of the Sands is very, very old. Older than the Waste itself. Once there were many places like it in the world, but now it is the last, for reasons that will become clear.”

Older than the Waste? Does she mean that this place wasn’t always a Massahn-touched desert?

But Maiz had no intentions to interrupt as Isa continued, “First and foremost, I am sure that you have never seen my own title before.” Maiz frowned, but nodded. He technically hadn’t, after all, since Lila never showed hers. “Warrior Monk is not a truly rare title like your own. It was once relatively common in lands bordering this area. However, every living Warrior Monk in the world lives here.”

Huh. Minus one, I suppose. Again, survival instincts prevented him from speaking. He affected a curious expression, and waited patiently.

“You are, I suppose, aware that lineage can play a large role in which title one recieves?”

Maiz nodded politely, though the question was akin to asking a child if they knew the color of the sky. It was common knowledge that you were likeliest to have the same title as your parents, or a similar one. Maiz, for example, had first been offered the Scholar title. That was a good fit for the son of a book merchant who spent years as a scribe.

“Well, it is easy enough to appreciate what would happen if all of the people of the same title began living in one, isolated place.”

What? Oh, they have children. And those children will probably have the same title as their parents.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Warrior Monks of old all lived in temples like this one, separate from the communities surrounding them. Of course, we are combatants. And no king enjoys the thought of a small, independent, army within their borders. So over time, the old temples fell.” The Master Warrior Monk spoke like she had given this speech a hundred times. She wasn’t even looking at Maiz, simply staring into the gently twisting strands of incense smoke that separated them. Maiz could guess easily enough what she would say next.

Except for this one.

“Except for this one. We are uniquely suited to living in the Waste, thanks to certain skills of our title. This place is a sanctuary of sorts, a place where we can live in peace, away from any other human society that would threaten us.”

Then the woman's faced became more contemplaive, a frown creasing her brow. Something was bothering her, it seemed. “But we are not simply a group of lonely hermits, living in the middle of a desert. We have always had a calling, if you will. A very old one.” For a moment, the old, powerful woman actually focused her attention on him, and Maiz felt the weight of it like a physical pressure.

Maiz got a feeling. A strong one. Once again, he knew what she was going to say, but this time the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he almost sighed in resignation. Of course.

“Say, young man. Do they still tell stories of God-Chosen where you’re from?”

*******************************

“So what does it do?”

Lila's voice sounded stronger than it had just a few minutes ago. Hugan thought that was a good thing--it had to be. But it was still strange. She’d just… woken up. No groaning, no half-conscious mumbling, she’d just opened her eyes and started asking questions. And grabbed his canteen without his even looking.

Hugan was proud of his canteen. It wasn’t something he mentioned a lot, or even showed other people. But his ba’ had told him early to never get caught without water. That was a recipe for death, working the forge. It was annoying to carry, sure, but it hadn’t felt right to stop wearing it in training. And he was extra glad he’d gotten a really sturdy one from his ba before leaving.

Lila had drunk the entire thing in about three seconds.

Hugan didn’t really hold it against her. He had a lot of Constitution, and he didn’t even feel thirsty yet. Whereas Lila had been unconscious a few minutes ago. Or something.

“Yeah, heh, I don’t really know yet. It’s called, uh… Shieldmate. Gotta use it to find out what it does.” It’d been really odd, focusing on his Notification symbol. Usually he got a nice display with little bars that each gave him a sort of ‘feeling’ for each attribute. Easy to understand. But this time he’d just gotten that name, Shieldmate, and another one. Defender. He kept that to himself. It felt… odd. He couldn’t help but think of someone else who’d been called that.

“But don’t you know how it works?” She was talking about being able to perorm the skill, even though he'd never really learned it. That was how it had worked with Shield Stance, and it was the same for this one.

Hugan shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I mean, I know how to do it, I just don’t know what’ll happen when I do.” That wasn’t really it either, though. It was more like his body knew what to do. And what it said wasn’t all that helpful.

Lila stopped walking. “Do you hear that?”

Hugan frowned. What? In a moment, the sound of hooves clopping dully against the dirt and sand of the road came into his earshot. Lila had an impressive set of ears on her.

“Oh, yeah. What should we do?” Hugan scratched his chin. Would be nice to meet some people, maybe get directions.

“We should hide.”

Hugan frowned. “Why?” They might have had some spare water to refill his canteen.

“We kind of look like runaways.”

“Oh.” 

Then Lila cast a sidelong glance at him with those gray eyes. Hugan could understand what Maiz saw in her, but those eyes... they were a little unsettling.

“Where are we headed again?”

Hugan shrugged. “No idea. I just started walking!” He gave Lila a grin.

She looked a bit annoyed, but Hugan didn’t let it bother him. What else was he supposed to have done?

“All right. You should go off the path then. I’ll see if I can get something useful out of them.”

Hugan felt his frown return. “Why can’t I stay on? I’d like to know what this skill does, you know.” He crossed his arms, turning to face her fully. Whenever he did that, people tended to listen to him a lot more.

But Lila was looking sort of scary, eyes hard and face set. “Sorry Hugan, not right now. Off the road.”

Hugan stepped off. His ba had many words of wisdom about women who could beat you the hells up, but the gist of it was that you should do what they said. He found a clump of bushes and did his best to hide, hunching his shoulders and staying still. He’d never been good at hiding games but he was pretty far from the road, and no one was even looking for him.

It turned out to be a single man on a horse, with some supplies on a saddlebag. Lila said something to him, and the man replied, drawing himself up. He had a high pitched voice, Hugan could tell, but he couldn’t hear what was being said clearly. They exchanged words, and eventually they started looking like they were arguing. Lila leaned in close, and then the man stiffened. He offered her a waterskin, which she accepted. After a bit more talking, the man trotted off without looking back.

“So who was he then?” Hugan asked after struggling up from the bushes and back onto the road.

“A messenger for some big city House.” She said dismissively. “Nomencadim, he said.”

That name rang a bell, but Lila was still talking, and Hugan lost it. Probably not important.

“Anyways, he was delivering to another House in Caelos, so we’re on the right route to get to there.

Hugan smiled. Of course they were headed to Caelos. He knew he’d picked the right way all along.

“Great! So, what House were they delivering to?” He asked the question out of idle curiosity. His ba made arms for some of the more militant Houses in the city.

“Uh, I think it was Sharir. He got scared when I said I was a combatant and started talking really fast.”

“Huh. Doesn’t sound familiar. Ah well, let’s get moving! Can I have a bit of the--”

The sound of gulping was the only warning he got, and when he looked over, Lila was already tossing the empty waterskin to the side.