Monghe One

In the southernmost point of the ground, he stood tall and wise; actually, that was a lie.

"Monghe," a voice behind him said. "Let's go back to the temple before they punish us."

"Come on now Bitwen," he complained. The sun's reflection on the surface of the water is truly beautiful. "I was just staring at the ocean."

"Well, how do you describe it then?" Bitwen asked.

Monghe opened his mouth and then closed them. "Well, the ocean is wide and peaceful," he said after some hesitation.

"What about its color?" Bitwen asked.

"What about its color?" Monghe repeated. "It isn't as beautiful as your reds."

Bitwen blushed and looked away from him. "But what is its color?"

Monghe's lips parted and then met again. "Okay, fine," he conceded. "I don't know its color."

"Then we must return to the temple to learn!" Bitwen said, grabbing Monghe's right hand with both of hers.

I'm not gonna learn culture, Bitwen. Monghe sighed.

The trek down the mountain was not long. The steep ridges of the mountain had not perturbed either of them. It had been crossed many times by them. They soon walked levelled to the ground, at the gates of the Salamangkero.

The Salamangkero are old and enigmatic, versed in the world's secrets, rehearsed in magic's theatrics, and stronger than any order. Some say they breath fire, like serpents of the sky. Others say they glass everything into ice. Most agree that what they do is incomprehensible. (copy and paste from blade itself.)

But Monghe knew these were all lies.

"Do you think Ginon Malakas was lying when he said twin royals were coming to us today?" Bitwen asked as they neared the giant golden gates.

"Well, you too are a royal, are you not?" Monghe asked as a person atop one of the two gate's towers waved at them. "Besides, I don't see any fancy carriages like when you came. He probably just wants us to practice our behavior."

"Well, you guys do treat me like I'm a baby," Bitwen said, looking down on the gravelled road.

"That's because you are," Monghe stated with a grin. The gates opened and Bitwen punched Monghe in his right shoulder. "Ow! Okay, they do have carriages."

The Salamangkero were not one unified order. They were different subsets between its disciples. Every year, there would be an intramural event in the centermost building that towered the others in the mountains. It greeted the only entrance and exit out of the Salamangkero compound. An amassing group of people littered its front doors.

"Wow," Bitwen said. "She's so pretty."

"Who?" Monghe asked as the four disciples by the door started to close it. Monghe had been watching one of them, the one who was on the right half of the door.

Bitwen flicked her finger at Monghe's cheek. "That girl near Ginon Malakas," Bitwen said, pointing at the girl. Monghe could not find her. "Is she part of the Ice Sect?"

"Hey, you tell me to know about colors when you don't even know our order's divisions," Monghe said with a frown. "There's no Ice Sect, only the Water Sect."

"Well culture is more important than order divisions," Bitwen said as they entered the crowd. She gripped Monghe's right hand and lead him towards the front.

Bitwen, I don't know what I feel, but it is a searing thong bathed in a bucket. Wait, I have to help Ginon Apoy. Monghe turned to face Bitwen. "Hey listen, I ain't got time for stuff not related to our order--"

"My fellow disciples," a tall, middle-aged man said with a raised hand. He stood alone on a wooden podium above everyone else. His voice evoked order. "Today we have gathered to see our new disciples' abilities and for us to see what our junior disciples have been up to."

Bitwen nudged Monghe. "Ginon Hangin is always the theatrics, eh?"

"You!" the man on the podium shouted and pointed at Monghe's direction.

Damn it Bitwen, why you gotta whisper right in front of him. Monghe tucked his head down as everyone turned to look in his direction. "I'm just an ember," he muttered. "I'm just an ember. Just an ember. An ember. Ember."

"Princess of Pilipinas and Baruna," Ginon Hangin said in an irritated tone. "Close your mouth before I take out your voice." Monghe looked at Bitwen. She had begun to open her mouth in the slightest bit, but she closed it as a gust of wind permeated the crowd. "Good, now as I was saying..."

"Damn that old geezer," Bitwen said as she chomped on her loaf of bread.

Monghe raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Oh, it's a mummer," Bitwen said with a large portion of bread in her mouth.

"A mummer?" Monghe asked.

"Actors for a play," Bitwen clarified. "Don't tell me you don't know what a play is either." Monghe shook his head. "And that's why you got to take Ginon Hangin's classes or other masters' classes about culture."

There's no need for culture. It didn't help me off the streets. Nothing did. "Well I'm not a genius like you," Monghe stated as he fingered the rice in his wooden bowl. "I'm still not even good at controlling the candle's flicker even though I've been here a year longer than you. I'm destined to be at the feet of everyone."

"Well, that's just how it is," Bitwen said as she held her wooden cup. "Nobody moves up from the bottom."

"What?" Monghe asked. "What do you mean?"

"You're not a noble, right?" Bitwen said as she downed the water. Her gulp was loud. "It's not like here in Salamangkero. In the real world, you don't move up a ladder and declare yourself better."

What in the hell is this girl talking about. Did her native subjects mess with her mind. My mother had told me it's possible to be richer than a noble. Damn nobility always trying to reinforce their status. Why do I even hang out with this girl, she's always nagging me about unimportant things. "Really?" he asked.

"Remember when Pasolius sent you to Ginon Lupa?" Bitwen asked. "At least the scar is fading now."

It was two years ago. When Bitwen had arrived along with other new disciples. The Crown Prince of Vafia had been part of the year's only intake. I had managed to move the candle's flame only a little bit to the left and right. I should've kept my mouth shut when he challenged everyone during the games. Damn it. "It's not that bad," Monghe replied, scratching the scar on his left forearm. "You're telling me he's gonna send me flying when I try to get better?" Bitwen nodded her head. "My mother says otherwise."

"And where was she from?" Bitwen asked.

"She's one of the Tohols," Monghe said. "Down south in Indigenia."

"I know where the Tohols are," Bitwen declared. "They have a different mind there. It isn't civilized. It isn't Eterian."

"Well--" Monghe felt a sharp slap behind his head.

"Monghe, are you still trying to have our Mediocre Princess?" a voice inquired. The cafeteria had dropped to silence when the smacking sound was heard.

Monghe had his fists curled until he heard the voice. He did not dare face its owner. "Sorry Pasolius," Monghe muttered. "She's always the one coming to me." And I don't mind it somehow.

Pasolius sighed. "Monghe, I told you she's mine--"

"Pasolius," Bitwen said, creaking her chair. "Watch your words."

Pasolius chuckled. "Would you look at her, eh?" he said. "She's fierce and not bad-looking at all. I told you she'll make a fine girl, cousin Shoy."

Monghe brought his head down to the table. Please be gone. Please don't let this Shoy be another henchman of his. Please leave me alone.

"Hey," a soft voice said. "I'm Shoy Tsin."

"Searching for what?" Bitwen asked. Monghe heard hands shaking. "You done introducing your cousin to me, Pasolius? Everyone here is waiting for you to leave us alone."

"Hmph," Pasolius sounded. "Let's go Shoy. I'll show you the actual girls I've fucked. They're the prettiest in the school."

"You okay?" Bitwen asked as she caressed Monghe's back. Several footsteps retreated.

Monghe raised his head to look at her. "Bitwen, I don't think you should do that."

"Protect you from Pasolius?" Bitwen said with raised eyebrows.

"No," Monghe said. "Scratch my back."

The silence in the cafeteria lingered for a little longer before someone had laughed.

"Did you see Pasolius almost knock the head out of that guy?"

"Who is he, he looks really weak."

"That's peasants for you, always starving."

"Ha, they grow so much food yet don't know how to use them."

"Are you an idiot, Tanga?"

"Well it is my name, my father gave it to me when I was ten."

"Are you dumb, the reason the peasants are so skinny and lankey is because..."

You all take what we make. You all steal what we earn. You all kill what we live. Monghe curled up his fists once more.

"You want to go outside?" Bitwen asked. "Back in the mountains or down by the lakes?"

Monghe shook his head and stood up, taking his bowl with him. He did not have a wooden cup like Bitwen. They had to pay more for those. Or make them. He did not know how to make them. "I've got to help Ginon Apoy," he said. "I'll see you later."

Monghe headed out of the cafeteria. The cafeteria was just a straight line of stone wall turned into a box-like shape by two supporting wooden pillars that were in the direction the cooks served the disciples. Its wooden roof allowed water to leak. The center entrance or exit of the cafeteria led to three roads. The one in the left led to the Water Sect. The one in the middle led to the Wind Sect. The one in the right led to the Fire Sect.

Monghe's slippers warmed as he walked on the gravelled road to the Fire Sect. This road never fails to bring spring. The trees parted by the road swayed and displayed their new fades. Green buds. A grey squirrel hit Monghe's right cheek with dirt. Damn these vermin. They're just nuts. Every beginning of spring. I thought I wouldn't suffer this nut-digging for the week.

When Monghe arrived at the vicinity of the Fire Sect, there was a battle going on.

Am I dreaming or is that girl even more beautiful than Ginan Masara. Monghe rubbed his eyes and blinked several times. She's real. It can't be. The girl Monghe's eyes were fixated upon was dressed in a blue robe with her long black hair tied into a bun. She's kinda too chinky. Probably another Tsin. Is she part of our sect or is she in the Water Sect. What is she doing here. The girl in the blue robe stood opposite of a boy dressed in the darkest red Monghe had ever seen. Pasolius, what the hell are you doing. Monghe moved closer to the gathering crowd.

An old man stood between the two disciples, himself robed in white. "Pasolius, Rank One of the Fire Junior Disciples, has been challenged by Sabing, a fresh junior disciple of undecided allegiance."

The crowd murmured. Monghe kept his lips closed.

"She's so slender."

"Is that girl from the ice branch of the Water Sect, because I'm feeling an icy aura from her."

"Are you an idiot, Tanga?"

"What?"

"The referee just said she's like us, still to decide by next week."

"But she's wearing a blue robe."

"Maybe they sponsored her."

"Begin!" the old man in the white robe shouted.

Sabing did not move and remained standing straight. Pasolius had gone into the fighting stance Monghe was all too familiar with. What the hell is that girl thinking, she's going to get literally incinerated by Pasolius.

Pasolius shouted and sprinted towards Sabing, his right arm ready to connect with its target. Several steps away before Monghe was sure the girl would have her beautiful face ruined, Monghe had closed his eyes. He never liked the duels anyway. Not when he's still weak.

"What the fuck!"

"D-Did she trip him?"

"What the fuck is this?"

"Fucking what?"

"Did a girl just beat Pasolius?"

"A year younger in order seniority too."

"Was she part of another order before she came here?"

"How can she easily sidestep Pasolius?"

Monghe opened his eyes and found Pasolius on the ground. "Sabing has won this duel," the white-robed old man declared. "Alright, shoo! Back to your training lads, it's almost noon!"

Pasolius got on his knees and grunted. Then when he fully stood up, he looked up and down Sabing. "This isn't over, cousin Sabing." Pasolius did not wait for the girl's reply and headed into the opened red doors of the building they fought in front of.

Monghe walked towards the old man in the white robe, not ending his gaze at the girl in the blue robe. She felt his gaze and turned.

"Ah, Monghe," the old man in the white robe said. "I was just trying to convince the young Sabing here if she would rather melt her torpor away and join our Fire Sect instead of cultivating it to glacial-level."

Damn it old man, when will you stop saying fancy words. You know I'm simple. Monghe smiled. "Ah yes, Ginon Apoy," he said while nodding. "She'll be a very good candidate. I can't believe she still beat our Number One."

"Number One in the outside," Ginon Apoy said, clutching his bald head. Monghe winced, he knew what was coming. "But not on the inside." Ginon Apoy said, pointing only his index finger at his temple.

"He wasn't even watching," the girl in the blue robe said as she met Monghe's eyes.

"Oh, was it true?" Ginon Apoy asked. "Have you still fear duels? You know a mandatory one is coming in two years before you become a senior disciple."

"Yes, Ginon," Monghe said, his head dropping to the cobblestoned ground. Those black eyes look as if they're peering into my soul. Is this girl a witch. Do the Tsin have witches?

Ginon Apoy laughed. "Aha, it's no matter," he said, tapping Monghe's right shoulder. "When I was young, I feared duels too."

"Is that true?" Sabing asked.

"Oh yes," Ginon Apoy replied. Monghe raised his head, his eyebrows touching each other. "It's true."