“I, Alnea Oathkeeper, take an Oath that I will reach the Fourth Glyph Repository of the Central Academy in half an hour,” Alnea declared after making sure that no one was within his hearing distance. And even then, he only whispered his Oath. But that was enough. It did not matter if he whispered his Oath, or shouted it for the whole world to hear. As long as he took his Oath, it would be counted as part of his Roots.
Just like at the moment, even when he was restricted from seeing his Spirit, or feeling his connection with the Origin Sea, he could already feel the pressure mounting on his Spirit, coming to him because of the chains of his Oaths, that must have manifested in the Origin Sea. Not too heavy to give him a headache, but not too light to completely ignore them either. Partly due to how high his Spirit Power had reached in the past few months, and also partly due to how relatively risk free his Oath was.
Although running to the Academy in the time that he had given himself was going to be tiring, it was not going to be so hard that it would have him gasping and wiping snot from his face. As a result, his Spirit Power would not be rising much from the Oath, even more so when it was stuck at a bottleneck. But it was alright. Being a little slow was fine, his master had said. Rather, it would be better if he were even slower.
There were a few complicated reasons behind her reasoning, including him not having the appropriate resources to support his body if his Spirit Power rose too rapidly. But mostly, it was because of his Roots. If he failed to keep his Oaths, he would have to pay the price for it, so it was best that he took it slow and steady, and be ready for anything that may happen.
Of course, his master did not know the exact price of his Roots, but she had some guesses. And she had repeatedly warned him against the dangers of falling into the trap of his own Oaths. Something that he had already experienced once. So, even though he could have taken a slightly riskier Oath to increase its effect on his Spirit, he chose to be on the safer side, and proceed with caution.
Still, considering that just three months ago running that distance, while giving it his all, would have taken him more than an hour, reaching the Central Academy in just under half an hour was not such an easy feat that he could just leisurely walk to the Academy. So, after he had taken his Oath, Alnea gripped his bag, making sure that it would not fall off in the way, and rushed towards the Academy, running through the streets of the inner city.
He ran at a good and measured pace, keeping his breath even, steps firm, and body straight, just like the other Alnea, the man from his dreams had told him to. Not even the darkness of the streets was able to disturb his rhythm. He knew each and every corner of all the streets, even the places where he had to turn, and in which direction. If needed, he could even run through the whole route with his eyes closed. A perk of going through the same route over, and over again in the past three months or so.
Yet just because the darkness did not disturb his rhythm did not mean that nothing else did. Alnea, after all, was still human. As he ran, his body started aching, with his mind pleading with him to stop. Or slow down. That there was still some time, it said, and that he would make it to the Academy in time regardless. But he ignored everything, and kept going. Being slow was fine, but that only applied to increasing his Spirit Power through Oaths. When building his foundations, his master’s expectation was for him to always give it his best. Even for the most meagre of the task.
And in a way, though he was completing his Oath, he was also training his body, so he did not dare to relax, and kept running at an even pace, ignoring all the temptations buzzing around in his mind. Soon, he crossed the empty streets of the inner city, and reached the gates of the Western Academy, just as Orn had completely dipped into the horizon. So, except for the two guards at the gates, the gates were just as dark and deserted as the inner city, as was the core city on the other side of the gates.
It was still too early in the morning for anyone to be up, and about without any reason. Even if they were up, and training, they must all be doing it in their homes, and not on the streets of the core city. Thankfully, Alnea had gotten over the phase where his face would be covered with his snot, and spittle just because he ran a little, so he was not embarrassed to run in the public anymore.
Confidently greeting the two guards at the gates, who had already gotten used to seeing him so early in the morning over the past few months, Alnea rushed through the gates, and onto the empty cobbled paths–surrounded by thick bushes and flowers on both its sides, and cutting through gardens and fountains interspersed between the buildings– making his way to the Central Academy, to the inner parts of the core city.
As he had expected, the core city looked just as deserted, and dark, as the inner city. Even the few Seeds of the Purplebud family that he used to see when going to the Spirit Hall were not there yet. Or even if they were, Alnea could not see them because of the darkness around him, exacerbated from the sinking of Orn, and the absence of Enn in the sky. Only a few buildings had lights shining inside them, but they were too far away, and were too little to dispel the darkness of the early morning.
But once again, the darkness failed to make him slow down, as he ran, cutting through the uncertainties of the darkness, not missing a single step in his rhythm. The same path on which he once used to stumble into the bushes, and the flowerbeds, by just walking on it, had grown so familiar that he could run on it even if he was blindfolded, let alone be bothered by the darkness.
Soon after crossing the Northwestern Altar Road, Alnea reached the Fourth Glyph Repository in a little over a third of an hour after leaving his home, much earlier than his promised time. Enjoying the pleasure of his Spirit being refreshed by the broken chains of his completed Oath, he took deep, and long breaths to calm his breathing, before pushing the giant doors of the hall with the strength of just his arms.
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The inside of the Fourth Glyph Repository was the same as ever. A gloomy hall with no windows, and carpets with patches through which the faded stone flooring of the hall was visible. At least it was not full of dust anymore, Alnea thought, as he took off his boots, and kept them by the doors, before walking towards his master, meditating in the centre of the hall. She had fixed the flickering Light Glyphs on the walls, relinquishing the need to use a Glyph Lamp. It also allowed him to have a much better look at her than what the Glyph Lamp had shown.
His master looked young, much younger than his mother, especially after his father’s death, which had caused his mother to look much older than she used to look. But in the past few months he had learned to never guess the age and the Rank of a Wanderer just by looking at their appearance. Roon used to look much older than his master, yet he was still just an Advanced Stage False Scholar.
His master, on the other hand, looked barely a few years older than the oldest Seeds in the Academy, yet was at least a First Stage Mystic Scholar. And even that was just his guess. She might be even stronger. Not to mention the fact that she was not even focussing on the path of Scholars. Her attainments as an Arcanist would be even higher. Her age…
If he recalled correctly, Cecilia had said that it usually took more than a hundred years for Wanderers to just reach the Tenth Stage of the True Wanderer Rank, let alone cross the threshold between Ranks, and become Mystic Wanderers. And his master was not just any Mystic Wanderer. She was a veteran among Mystic Wanderers, who had reached the Mystic Rank on all three paths. Even at the lowest estimate, she was at least a hundred years old.
Yet the way she dressed, and carried herself, did not let any of that show. Her robe, which had looked like a plain white robe the first time he had seen her, on a closer look in a brighter light, revealed patterns of thorn covered vines, weaved with white threads, matching the colour of her robes, and running all across its borders. A robe befitting her name. Nyssa Thornbearer.
Her name was quite similar to his own, Alnea Oathkeeper. And it was not just their names that were similar, even the way they took their names was. As a price for laying their Roots. Thornbearer. Alnea wondered what her Roots meant. Did she have to carry thorns around with her all the time? Or did she bear the pain of thorns piercing her flesh? Was she experiencing it at the moment?
If she was, she showed no signs of it. She was sitting motionlessly, with her eyes closed, meditating in silence, as her black hair, tied into a ponytail, with braids on the sides of her head, curved around her shoulders, and hung behind her, reaching the tail of her back. It had been difficult to clearly see the braids in her hair in the dim lights back when he had first met her. Or to notice how silky and smooth her hair looked. Like the finest threads in existence. Alnea wondered how it would feel to comb through them with his fingers.
Subduing the thought as soon as it came, Alnea hurriedly took his seat in front of his master, and looked away from her to hide the flush on his cheeks. Only when he thought that he returned to normal, did he turn to look back at her, and mirrored her pose. Just like her, he sat in silent meditation, trying to empty his mind of all its thoughts. To his disappointment, his thoughts refused to listen to him, insisting on focusing on all sorts of things, like how he did not have to greet her.
There was no need to maintain formalities between a master and disciple, she had said. Only the insecure Wanderers, those who felt their status threatened by others, used those traditions and formalities to boost their self ego. All the more formidable and great Wanderers usually did not have enough time for themselves, so why would they waste it on such trivialities? And if Alnea was lacking in anything at the moment, then it was time.
“Stop thinking of useless things,” Alnea heard his master say, bringing him out of his meditation. If it could even be called as one.
“How can you call them useless, master? I was thinking about all the things that you have been teaching me.”
“The fact that you were thinking of anything that was not tempering your Heart, automatically renders any thoughts that you were having as useless,” his master, shaking her head. “It is good that your mind is active and introspective, but if you are to Wander the Origin Sea, and observe its Mysteries to glean their meanings, then you need to learn to calm your mind, to temper your Heart. And the easiest way to do that is through meditation.
“Still, despite the fact that more than three months have passed since you have started meditating, you have yet to make any progress in your Heart. It is still in the Muddied Heart State. And if by the time your Spirit Power reaches the False Rank, you would not have tempered it to the Serene Heart State, then let alone understanding the Mysteries, you will not even be able to survive Wandering the Origin Sea itself, and will end up getting devoured by it.”
“I am trying, master,” Alnea grumbled. “But how am I supposed to clear my mind? Even if I think of clearing my mind, is that not equivalent to thinking of something? Then would it not mean that I have not really cleared my mind in the first place?”
“The day when you are able to think of an answer to that question yourself, is the day when you will be able to truly calm your mind,” his master said, confusing Alnea even more than he already was. How was he to think of an answer to calm his mind, which he could only get after calming his mind?
Alnea did not know the answer, and he knew that no matter how much he banged his head against the question, he still would not get the answer. Besides, the real problem was not just the answer, but how he got the answer. Otherwise, his master, who already knew all the answers, would have told him the secret to achieve the Settled and Serene Hearts long ago.
But she did not do that. Instead, she answered his question in a cryptic way, asking for him to figure out the true answer by himself. And it was not just the question about Tempering his Heart. She answered most of his doubts, and questions in a similar way, forcing him to think for himself. But only for things which had inherently ambiguous answers, and required some thinking, and introspection on his part. For his foundations, things which did not have any ambiguous answers, she was immaculately accurate, and demanded the same of him.
“As usual, let us begin by reviewing the Martial Styles.”