The yellowish buildings were made of wood and sand that could almost be called concrete. The ground of flattish rocks held in place by a rougher paste of the failed concrete of the walls.

The narrow streets could barely let trough a slightly fatter person, so to whoever passed through the walls would seem to tower over them simply because of the closeness, making everyone subconsciously look ahead, even if they had all the space to turn while talking to their partners.

The men wore darkened mocassins, dark brown hard and heavy trousers held by suspenders and discolored shirts that perfectly complemented their yellow teeth. A few of them also seemed to show off their immaculate berets, clearly heading for the square at the top for an outing.

The women also wore discolored clothing like the men, but many had long skirts, some form of colourful accessory such as necklaces and a foulard on their heads.

Every now and again on the front porches on some of the larger streets, a group of women could be seen chatting while spinning a piece of clothing or cleaning some comestible grasses.

As all this was built on the slope of a high hill facing the sea, the early autumn sun still managed to light it all in its comfortable orangeish yellow early evening glow.

A hardly aged Nicalua, dressed in more comfortable linen trousers and cloth shoes compared to the town men's, approached a three story house on the outskirts, a clear oddity.

Knocking on the wooden door, a boy that couldn't be a few years older than him opened the door and greeted him with a huff in his voice.

"Hello, what are you searching for in the house of God?"

The heavy hemp robe tied to the teenager's waist by a hemp rope and the Bamboo broom in his hands immediately clued Nicalua to the proper etiquette he had studied he had to use now.

Looking in the eyes of the taller boy, he started.

"Learner, I am Journeyman Nicalua Farara searching for an apprenticeship in this peaceful monastery."

The older boy beamed.

"I am Learner Franca Del Guglio. Seeing as we will be companions, you can call me Franca. I'm tired of the monks always calling me Learner Franca. Come, come inside."

Gesturing for him to enter, Franca pointed at a bench inside beside the entrance made of thick dark brown wooden tiles.

"Wait a minute, I'm going to call the Abbot."

Saying this, the exited youth went up the stone stairs with a skip to his pace.

Left alone, Nicalua's gaze drifted around.

A fireplace was at the other end of the entrance, the chimney likely running through the whole building.

On the left were copper utensils and pots hanging by their handles, fixed on a horizontal wooden plank with nails, and a rocky semi smooth shelf.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

On the right were the stairs, which went both up and down, signaling the presence of a basement.

At the center was a long table with many chairs, likely all made from the same wood he was resting on.

Really, the perfect place for a cozy and comfortable life. That was if you ignored the walls made exclusively of rock and the thin layer of ash in the fireplace.

Nicalua knew, if he wanted to train in the monastery, he'd have to endure many frigid winters together with the learner until he trained far enough in the Holy Fire Art of the Holy Fire Congregation to overcome the outside cold with his internal heat. The Cardinals said it would help as motivation.

In truth, there were many other places to become a Mental Master that didn't require such sacrifices, but Nicalua couldn't train them.

His line of thought was interrupted by the sound of leather sandals on stone: Franca had come with the Abbot.

He immediately got to his feet.

The Abbot and Nicalua both held their hands with the palms facing themselves, but Nicalua had a slight bow to his back as the Abbot spoke.

"May God always be with you. I am Abbot Giari. Learner Franca told me you want to start the journey to the embrace of God."

Having finished the salute, Nicalua returned to his normal posture.

"That is right Abbot Giari. Though there is something I have to confirm before taking the first step."

"Speak without reservation my child. There is no sin the Flame of God cannot cleanse."

It had to be said that the good-natured old face of the Abbot was indeed calming, but for what he was about to say, no matter how many times he did it, Nicalua would always be nervous.

"The truth is that I have already been to many Mental Masters and they all said I am not suitable for their practice, or really, Mental Cultivation in general for that matter."

The eyelids of Abbot Giari seemed to hold up the weight of the Earth for how heavy they looked and the bushy eyebrows didn't help the look, but nonetheless a moment of energy got to the as the surprise was evident in his eyes.

"If possible I'd like to take a talent examination right now without waiting for the end of the Apprentice period and the Learner ceremony."

Usually if someone joined the Monastery they would have to first live there to be indoctrinated and to have their aptitudes accounted for for their role in the monastery.

That way, if someone wanted to join for childish pursuits like controlling a cool ball of fire, they would first learn to embody the ideals of the Monastery and only then learn their Mental Art and Techniques.

It wasn't unheard of Arts to be unrestricted and widely spread, accessible for whoever made the simple effort to just care. But many schools thought of them as their intellectual property and only taught them to those who they found worthy, each in their own way.

But if someone was clearly only interested in the Art and not the philosophy behind it, and couldn't be molded to their ideals, they could be judged only by their talents in Mental Cultivation.

Usually a child the age of Nicalua wouldn't be judged as unswayable, but Abbot Giari could see the determination in those brown eyes.

He sighed.

"I understand. Let me place a hand to your heart."

Every Mental Master had their own way to measure talent, each judging the different principles they studied the mind with.

As the surprisingly small hand of the Abbot touched his light green shirt, Nicalua felt a heat spread from the point of contact to throughout his body following the veins and arteries of it.

After but a couple of seconds, the Master distanced himself.

"You resisted surprisingly well for someone your age. But indeed, you didn't adapt at all. I'm sorry journeyman Nicalua."

As the heat wasn't anything scalding, the Abbot was clearly talking about resisting something else.

Still, the verdict was clear.

Nicalua, with a small start to his movements, again proceeded to make the salute of the Congregation.

"I understand. It's been a pleasure visiting a Monastery of the Holy Fire Congregation. I'm going to excuse myself."

So, without waiting for empty invitations out of courtesy, he exited the monastery under the disappointed gaze of Learner Franca and the pitying one of Abbot Giari.

Gazing at the glistening sea to calm his roaring heart, Nicalua stood there for a good half an hour.

Then, with a heavy heart, he returned to the town square, where he would rejoin the caravan.