Master Camble

Eliot returned to his room at the academy, snickering to himself.

“Based on your delight, it went ok?” quirred Henry.

“It went Perfect.” Eliot had a giant shit eating grin. “You wanna race to the arena again?”

“Only if you refrain from exploiting your portal spell,” shrugged Henry.

“Deal,” agreed Eliot, getting the jump on Henry by slamming his hand on the window frame and heaving himself out of the window first. They raced using the fly spell, Eliot won, much to Henry’s displeasure. They stepped into the arena, causing a domino effect of people gossiping about a rematch between the The Hot-Headed Genius and the Crown Prince. In no time at all, a crowd formed, larger, louder, and more intrusive than the last, forcing them to activate the forcefield.

Henry drew his sword and raised it to the light, poised at Eliot in challenge. Eliot opted not to use a sword, instead he had his hands in fists and resting at his sides, his muscles tensing in anticipation. The crowd cheered when Henry and Eliot closed the distance and the battle began. Henry horizontally slashed at Eliot’s midriff. Eliot sneered as he short hopped and drop kicked Henry, his sword sailing under Eliot. Eliot caught himself on the palms of his hands and the heels of his feet as gravity drew him to the ground and jerked up with his left leg while henry was clutching his stomach in pain. Eliot’s kick slammed under Henry’s chin, making his head snap back and making him reel in incoherence. Eliot didn’t let up, he looked like a bboy as he spun his legs down and around, using only his hands to support himself, sweeping Henry off his legs and falling forward. Eliot tucked his legs back under him while raising his upper body, in a crouch like position, and shot up with his right elbow extended, once again bombarding Henry’s poor face. The attack only spanned a short time, only then did Eliot fall back to catch his breath.

Henry half collapsed, supporting himself with his sword as he struggled to stand backup and muttered, “That’s new.” while wiping away the blood dripping from his nose. Eliot dashed back into the melee, Henry did his best to avoid Eliot’s offensive of flurrying limbs. At first glance, prior to the fight, it would seem as if Henry had the advantage, after all he was wielding a sword while Eliot was unarmed. Unfortunately for Henry, swords have the advantage in regular close combat, however, swords are almost useless in extreme close combat, the type of combat Eliot is intentionally forcing in the fight by sticking as close to him as possible. If Henry continued to allow Eliot full control of the battle flow, he would lose. Henry cast the flying spell, shooting into the air in an attempt to catch a slight breather from Eliot’s fierce attacks. Eliot prepared for this, Henry was practically married to the flying spell; Eliot crouched on the balls of his feet and leaned forward, supporting himself with his hands. He looked like he was in the position track runners adapt before a race. It was an Arcane Stance he had learned with Cel, it would let you traverse a large distance almost instantaneously by giving you a significant speed boost. This was usually used on the ground as a mad dash or head start, Eliot however, angled it upwards, directed at Henry, and jumped. At the same time, Eliot duel cast the fly spell, making air friction his only opposition. Eliot reached and grabbed Henry before he was able to react, then he uncast the fly spell, casting a spell called Gravity’s clutches in its place, and smashed Henry into the ground with a shaking boom. When the dust settled, the crowd saw Eliot standing over Henry with his hand fixed around Henry’s neck, who was in a crater and coughing up blood.

Henry’s first attempt at speech was a guttural cough that sounded like a dying bird; Henry succeeded on his second try, choking out, “I concede.” The crowd exploded in excitement and chattering gossip. Eliot immediately let go of Henry’s neck and crouched low to the ground while casting a healing spell, his legs were burning from the demanding maneuvers he performed. Henry was restored to good health in no time, it was then that Eliot chose to boast.

“You’re right, you absolutely and utterly stomped me,” admitted Henry, “However, I would beat you in a rematch, your tricks get old fast.”

“Sure, let’s have a rematch, I’ll beat you all over again,” scoffed Eliot as he cracked his knuckles. Eliot stuck out his hand and Henry took it and stood up.

“My deepest condolences, Prince Henry, but I’m afraid Eliot Relius is coming with me,” interrupted the man standing next to them on the battlefield. Eliot and Henry jerked in surprise, they hadn’t noticed the man at all. The man was tall, two hundred fifteen centimeters, and muscular but lean, wearing a monk’s garb with a shaved head, and had brown eyes.

“M-Master Camble!” stammered Henry in surprise, immediately standing rigid and clasping his hands in the yin yang form before bowing and saying, “I pay respects to the master!”

“I’m sorry sir-” Eliot he was interrupted by Henry, who elbowed Eliot as hard as if they were still fighting. “I’m sorry, Master Camble-” Eliot stressed ‘master’, in a mocking manner, he believed anyone contemptuous enough to require everyone to address them so was unworthy of his respect, “- I don’t know why you sought me out,” said Eliot while dodging another of Henry’s painful jabs.

“Yes,” agreed Master Camble, “I would be concerned if you did. You see, I’ve decided to take you under my tutelage.” The crowd gave a collective gasp of shock, Henry along with them, and the gymnasium fell into absolute silence. Eliot could infer that this ‘Master Camble’ had to be someone of importance or high rank for even the crown prince to bow to him, however he had no intention of becoming the discipulus of a person he just met.

“Sorry, Master Camble, but I refuse,” said Eliot, his words infused with as much politeness as he could muster.

“Ah, yes” realized Master Camble, “I heard you were Karl Favish’s discipulus before he passed, my deepest condolences, however, you needn’t fret that I will attempt to plunder that title. We are of two completely different fields, meaning you would be Karl Favish’s discipulus for magic, and mine for Martial Arts and such.” Master Camble elicited Eliot’s ire with his response.

“Obviously this, ‘Master Camble’, isn’t used to people saying no to him. And he just let out that I’m Karl Favish’s discipulus, that wasn’t common knowledge yet,” Eliot fumed as he took stock of the situation. Eliot paused for a few moments, irresolute in his response. “I’m afraid that that is not the reason why I refuse. I am just not sure that I want to be your disciple,” explained Eliot with clenched teeth, sense barely prevailing over anger. The crowd burst out with moans of censure, berating Eliot for his audacity in refusing, he was a seraphim for Gods' sake.

Master Camble smiled and responded, “That’s quite all right, In fact I respect that quality, you are willing to refuse a seraphim, that requires deep confidence and courage.”

Eliot sighed in relief: Master Camber wasn’t as arrogant as he assumed, and said, “I truly appreciate the offer nonetheless, Master Camble, I hope that you find someone else worthy of your tutelage.”

Master Camble chuckled and corrected himself, “No, no you misunderstand me, I simply stated that I respect that quality, not that I respect that decision. Fortunately, I does not matter if you refuse.” Master Camble directly snagged Eliot’s wrist and dragged him towards the exit.

Eliot’s anger rebounded like a flash flood and he protested with, “You have no right to force me under your tutelage, the student has all the power when choosing the master!” Intentionally causing a scene to try and smear his image, Eliot had no idea that a seraphim could do anything up to murder and the people would croon their praises for generations.

Master Camble frowned for the first time and explained, “That is how it usually is, yes, however, you have no right to refuse, fore you have transgressed against the Monastery of Clouds. Therefore, I am supported by the laws of the empire to force you under my tutelage.”

Eliot ripped free from Master Camble’s grasp with a jerk that made him stumble backwards and huffed, “What are you saying? I did absolutely nothing against your monastery!”

Master Camble gave a frustrated sigh and muttered, “I forgot how it was to teach a troubled student, such as yourself.” Master Camble’s gaze was fierce and condemning, his voice boomed, “You abandoned a training session extended by Master Lorick before its proper conclusion, that is akin to spitting on the proud reputation of all monks hailing from the Monastery of Clouds.” Before Eliot could respond, Master Camble moved so fast that no one present was able to discern that he moved at all, and Eliot fell to the ground, unconscious and lacking fan fair. Master Camble gingerly lifted Eliot and ambled out of the gymnasium, leaving a silent crowd enraptured in confusion and awe.

As Master Camble exited the gymnasium, the HeadMaster appeared outside the exit.

“Camble, I really wish you didn’t make such a scene in my school,” complained the HeadMaster.

“Little Mark," spat Master Camble. "Karl has been dead for a week and you are already calling Everveil your school? Say things like that in front of me again and you will face severe consequences,” growled Master Camble, the HeadMaster touched a nerve. The HeadMaster begrudgingly shut up and gave a small bow before stomping away. Master Camble sighed a deep steadying sigh. Karl Faish had been one of his best friends, he was still mourning his death. Reality seemed to flip on itself, not enforcing its rules as Master Camble stepped on pure air and raised above the ground with slow and calming steps, eventually transitioning into a full sprint through the sky, becoming a blur to the average eye.

Master Camble slowed as he reached the Monastery of Clouds that was literally on a giant mass of clouds. Master Camble was exult as he jumped down onto the mass of cloud serving as the monastery's ground, he was back home. Once again reunited with his brothers, and though it was only a few short months, it felt much longer, homesickness plaguing his usual iron will.

As soon as he was sighted, the monks at the front of the gate, cleaning all bowed and shouted, “Welcome back Head Monk!” before going back to cleaning, refreshed faces all around. Master Camble smiled as he walked up the steps and observed his younger brothers cleaning, reminiscing about when he was one of them. The first floor of the monastery didn’t have many walls, mostly supports and minimal roof over training, eating, and work areas. The second floor was built over the sleeping and meditating areas; those were made up of many small rooms with walls on all sides and nothing but a mat on the floor. The second floor had many small rooms, slightly larger than the ones in the sleeping area, with desks placed center point and plenty of windows and views, all lined up down one long hallway. Master Camble greeted some of his brothers working in those rooms on things such as logistics, observing and scouting future students of the monastery, and lesson plans. The prerequisite for scouting was insane and unimaginable to the average being, to even be considered for learning in the Monastery of Clouds, the student has to have reached the level of Cloud Monk, where they achieve the ability to walk amongst the clouds and have a body that is indestructible to any mortal. By this level, the monk is likely high in their respective monastery’s hierarchy, the Monastery of Clouds ensures that they keep their humbleness and dedication to improvement by putting them at entry positions in the monastery, surrounding them with individuals of equal strength, and having the best of the best monks instruct them.

Master Camble arrived at the end of the hallway, the room at the end was his work area, Eliot still snug in his arms. Master Camble opened the door, and walked into an office identical to the others with one discrepancy. There was an unmarked and plain door at the left side of the office. Master Camble beelined for the door and opened it softly before stepping inside and gently closing it after him.

Eliot’s eyes fluttered open and he shot up in bewilderment. Eliot’s mouth hung open as he took in his surroundings, his confusion combined with the usual hebetude of recent waking fiercely addled him. He was in an endless void of white sky with fluffy and soft clouds as the floor. No sun was noticeable, yet the light was comparable to that of mid day. Eliot lay on a mat that was adjacent to a small table, plain, and low to the ground table. On the other side of the table, Master Camble perched, lackadaisically sipping tea.

“Where am I?” asked Eliot, his voice bare and coarse, as he sat down and sipped from the identical cup of tea on his side of the table, too overwhelmed by the scenery to care that he was publicly kidnapped.

“You are in the monastery’s room of enlightenment. It provides the perfect environment for deep meditation and training for when trying to overcome a bottle neck or advancing to a new level. It has utility engravings that make it larger on the inside than the outside and to help assist in a resident's training, as well,” explained Master Camble patiently.

“OK...” nodded Eliot slowly, recalling the day’s happenings in his head. “Why did you kidnap me? You could have anyone as your discipulus, even the prince has to bow to you, so why me? Did I forget to mention that I have an animus is almost every weapon? If you spoke with Master Larkson, you would know that.” Master Camble smiled lightly, happy that Eliot mostly stopped resisting.

“You are completely correct, in fact the reason I chose you is actually a very selfish reason,” admitted Master Camble. “You see, I had a vision from the Great Mother Earth herself. She told me to seek you out and teach you a sacred and ancient Martial Art that has been forgotten from history and documentation. This technique is entirely trenchant and only I know of it. It was deemed sacrilegious when it was first created, but the Way of Enlightenment forbids the complete erasure of any knowledge. That technique and much more forbidden knowledge is passed down from generation to generation in the minds of the Head Monk, here in the Monastery of Clouds.”

Eliot did his best to digest all the information and only said something after a long stretch of time, “Why is it selfish? To me it sounds like you are just following the path of enlightenment.”

"It seems so, however, the Way of Enlightenment does not pay creedence to any particular God, in fact the highest steps are to reach the realm of the Gods, serving the Gods is not part of the Way. And...I must confess that the teaching of this technique is against the Way of Enlightenment in every way, shape, or form,” explained Master Camble gravely, guilt weighing down his words like a lead vest. Eliot stayed silent for sometime, wondering if he should ask why Master Camble would teach it if it was against his way, or if he shouldn’t in the fear that Master Camble would not want to share and reconsider, he desperately needed this to grow stronger.

“OK,” nodded Eliot. “I will be your discipulus and accept your tutelage.” The next thing Master Camble did startled Eliot, Master Camble actually got up and kowtowed to him.

“Woah, woah, you are the master, remember?” reminded Eliot in a panic.

“I am indeed, and that is exactly why I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” said Master Camble, finally done with his bowing. “Now, prepare yourself, I am a gruesome teacher,” admonished Master Camble, already thinking of ways to torture Eliot with lessons, correcting Eliot's anger particularly high on his list.

Eliot laughed and said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eliot thought back to how respectful, maybe even slightly fearful, Henry acted. "I'm going to rub this in his face so hard," Eliot thought as he grinned mischievously.

End of Part 1