Solo Invictus

[Benjamin]

5th of Fall, 514 AV

Patience was not a virtue the youngest of the Laurent clan possessed. In fact, to hear its two syllables uttered in conversation invited a cerebral malaise to wash over him. Even here, sitting quietly before the pacing steps of his uncle in meditative repose, could not help but feel his interest with the older man wane.

"You lacked in patience, Benjamin," the color in the boy's face quietly receding as his uncle spoke in his usual mentoring fashion. "You knew what to expect. In fact, you exceeded expectation from whence I brought you here. I thought I was simply doing my brother a favor taking you with me to Lhavit. 'To escape the ruin he's wrought.' Those were your father's words, not mine. I believe a man should face his problems head on, but I agreed to the conditions because you were but a mere child. I just thought that, eventually, you would grow to be a man. A man can accept time's passage without the folly of his own mind consuming his sanity."

The words stung at the younger one's pride and burrowed deep enough to leave an everlasting mark. He had been trained not to allow emotion even a moment's passing across his countenance, but now in this moment felt his training slipping away. "I..." he strained, eyes narrowing as he drew in a deeper, more forceful breath. "I can do better."

"One chance, Benjamin," his uncle halted to gaze down upon his student, arms folding behind his back. The color of his eyes seemed to shift to a more dark and laborious hue. "Our order gives an Acolyte one chance to ascend. Now, you shall be branded as an initiate...forever."

To hear the words from another far surpassed the reality any internal counsel he'd kept with himself had had. Initiate. I am no better than the mewling child I started as. What would father think? Mother? Nadia? Have I learned nothing? Have I achieved nothing?

"...gone by Syna's departure today," his uncle's voice returning, catching his attention once more and flushing out the troubled line of thought.

Benjamin's entire face gaped, the pale blue of his eyes widening and lifting to catch the older man's implacable expression. He was being serious. "But if I am to be an Initiate..." he sputtered, saliva coating his lower lip.

"Come now Benji..." his uncle's grim tone partially dissolving in using the boy's childhood name, but for what purpose? To soften the blow? Why choose now to inject a dose of compassion into an otherwise condemning reprisal? This man has infuriated me since coming here.

"...a Laurent. We do not accept mediocrity into our lives. You will cut your own path in this world and make something more of yourself. Perhaps it was my own mistake to have pushed you in this direction so soon. It is obvious there is much that dwells on your conscience."

Both men cut the distance between one other with unflinching stares, one's made of steel, the other's pliable as silk. Benjamin knew what was coming next before it even happened, though it refused to soften the impending blow.

He could merely watch in silence as his uncle grabbed a canvas bag from a stone pedestal nearby, likely filled with items he would later needed, and hand it across to him as though it were no more than a severance note. Benjamin showed no desire to reach out and take it.

His uncle's face hardened then, lips pursing and jaw clasping. Through jailed teeth he growled. "Take it..." hand jerking the bag's burdened weight closer to his nephew. "Take it boy, before I regret ever bringing you to Lhavit."

A scowl crept across Benjamin's face, hand reaching out rebelliously and taking hold of his belongings. Holding it in his hands felt like betrayal, but what choice did he have? To be an Initiate for the rest of his life was comparable to a death sentence, albeit a slow and cloying one. The old man was right; becoming a Shinya was not his destiny.

Standing up from the floor, Benjamin hoisted the bag over his shoulder and kept his eyes pointed towards the ground. None of this was fair to him, but the youth was keenly aware that life never treated him magnanimously. He had known this self evident truth since he was eight.

"I put some extra coin in there so you might find a decent place to stay, and you are welcome to visit me at any time. I will inform the Master of your decision to depart." The older man's voice had been wiped clean of its chastening, replaced instead by something Benjamin had heard on rare occasion. It's the way he speaks to his family.

Finding courage to look the man in the eye, the edge of the boy's lip curled in what felt like the onset of a smile. So this was to be his new path in life: master of his own domain. Reaching out a hand, it was met with his uncle's own, the elder's calloused flesh telling a thousand stories of experience compared to the more supple skin of Benjamin's palm. But the first chapter of many...I hope.

[Benjamin]

The tender greeting Benjamin received from Syna's morning embrace once exiting the monastery was a welcomed one, chin lifting towards the sky with eyes shuttering peacefully to a close. The air he breathed was sweet with the earthy scents of taka moss and keokina blossoms, each eking out a meager existence sprouting from the small crevices in the ageless pale stones spanning the sacred grounds. The song of the thrush bird could be heard from a nearby outcropping of stone to his right, joined by its companions that called back and forth to one another in greeting.

In that moment Benjamin felt a mix of relief and sorrow all at once, casting away from the grueling training regiments that filled his days with unending struggle, but parting with friends and educators the likes of which would not be visited again. Unsure as to which emotion to fall heaviest upon, he found himself standing still upon the precipice of steps leading down to the rest of the city below, a cool but pleasant breeze shifting the loose strands of copper hair atop his scalp.

A lingering fear crept into his veins once his eyes opened again. For many years Benjamin had known little else than the life of an Acolyte. His days had followed a meticulous schedule that afforded little in terms of surprise with the passing of each bell. Now without guidance or demand for time, he was free to do as his will permitted. For all his curiosity and wanderlust however, the boy had relied on that constant agenda more than previous notions had calculated. This new life was to be a different beast entirely.

Standing quietly in the waking morning, Benjamin's attention had been so focused internally that he did not see the lump of fur moving towards him on four plodding legs along the outskirts of his periphery. Stepping right up to him, its wet nose and tongue brushed abruptly against the fingertips that still held the scent of an early meal, stirring a gasp from its recipient that caused him to falter back a step. Alarmed, Benjamin's shrinking pupils shot down to the wagging tail and panting face of the canine he had learned to affectionately call "little thief" in his time spent at the monastery.

"Tanny," voice grating in the back of his throat where the shock of the encounter was still being dislodged. "What are you doing out here?"

The smaller creature's nose began bobbing up and down like a walnut caught in rippling water. Quickly deciding on its purpose, his lengthy body circled Benjamin's own and found a way to the bag he was carrying. Stopping, Tanny began to nudge the canvas hopefully, something within the container piquing one of his very few express interests.

Pivoting away from the animal with a growing smirk adorning his face, Benjamin gently shook his head and reached out a hand to hold the dog at bay. "Oh no. Not this time, little thief. I need the stuff that's in there. It's all I've got."

Quirking its head to the left upon hearing the others voice, Tanny decided that whatever was said only meant "try harder" in his own canine-sophisticated language. So, with wagging tail still prancing back and forth, he dipped beneath the halting hand, possessed of an agility that belied his ripening age. Slipping between his human counterpart's knees the fool had previously been using to steady his inferior two-legged balance, a fur-lined snout reached up and gave a 'gentle' tap to the bag slung over the human's shoulder.

Of course, not having the faintest knowledge of human male anatomy, what was meant as an imploring tap to an object possessing food became an affront to Benjamin's nether area. Eyes widening briefly soon transpired into a wince of pain from the human, swelling from his groin and moving up into his abdominal area. Backpedaling away as quickly as his blundering feet would allow, he dropped to the ground with only his left hand to balance him, the bag coming loose from his shoulder and, miraculously, opening to spill its contents across the cobbled ground.

Fueled by the sight of weakened prey and a cache of gesticular treasure, Tanny bounded forward and snatched up a small pouch containing only the finest scented of the objects that had spilled across the ground. Ducking beneath a grasping hand for his immaculate fur coating, and blissfully ignorant of a clearly perturbed glare from his human patsy, the canine bounded away with ears raised and tail flashing triumphantly back and forth. And just as swiftly as he had arrived, so was he gone, rounding a corner and likely out of Benjamin's company forever.

All that remained was a distraught young man sitting atop a long list of stairs, his mind attempting to piece together what in all of the gods creations had just happened.

[Benjamin]

Only when he felt the pain beginning to ebb did Benjamin make an effort to stand, cautiously gathering what belongings had temporarily furnished the cobbled path leading towards the monastery. The song of the thrush bird still ignited the autumn air with its melody, taking on a more mocking and sinister tone to the ears of the one whose ego had been bruised by a four legged mutt not chimes before.

In searching for its perch along the stone edifice in hopes of gifting it with a condemning glare, Benjamin was surprised to find one no more than a meter away, dancing back and forth along one of the low lying stone walls, passing along quizzical glances with its beady black eyes. Given its proximity, the young man could only guess the bird was accustomed to the presence of the monastic order that inhabited the grounds, and made its nest in the summits annually.

Dusting a smattering of dirt and debris from the backside of his trousers, Benjamin's lips pursed thinly beneath a set of flaring nostrils as he eyed the intrepid little avian. "Suppose you'd like something, too. Well I'm sure there's a few grains the mongrel scattered along the way," his hand gesturing to the mosaic of stone beneath them. "You're welcome to them--at least you're polite about it."

Strangely enough, the bird chirped crisply as though in response, halting for a moment as it eyed the fleshy thing with a strong measurement of doubt. Then, seeing that it was turning its back to head away from the potential trove of food, swooped down to survey the area, pecking accordingly.

A few meters away, Benjamin stood once more at the brink of the stairwell leading down, less hesitant than before about departing from all that he knew for the chance to explore that which remained; the dawning realization of what was left making him feel minuscule by comparison, though anxious all the same.

Embarking on a journey with no promise of return could have hemmed anyone's desire from taking that first step, but it wasn't till the fourth or fifth that Benjamin realized he was moving. Perhaps he was more ready for this journey than he was willing to admit.

The stairs that led down from the peak were steep, treacherous in adverse climates, and a challenge even for those most nimble of footing. He could recall one of several occasions where he had taken a tumble, this particular memory resulting in a sprained ankle. It had taken his uncle nearly three chimes before he was able to rein in his laughter and lend assistance.

What had remained of that day was filled with bitter opprobrium and foul silence from the younger, yet ended with a lesson, two cups of tea, and several bowls of chowder with laughter in between.

His uncle kept a lesson hidden within everything, it seemed. Perhaps the old man had been trained in a similar fashion coming up through the ranks, a question Benjamin had never bothered to find the desire to ask until now. Being so focused on his own progress had made him blind to events surrounding him.

Renounce the idea of injury, Benjamin, and you shall find that injury itself dissolves.

The lesson came crawling back to him. He would later learn that its intended meaning extended well beyond the physical realm as he had first presupposed. However, there was little else he could have focused on at the time. And perhaps his uncle had meant for the words to grasp at its ulterior meaning. The laughter had been more injurious than the fall itself, just as being bested by a four legged animal well into its years had been more detrimental to his ego than the suffering of his manhood.

Not even a bell has passed and your lessons still follow me. I learned to loathe them then, but would give a great deal just to hear one more.

But such was the way of the world.

[Benjamin]

The dawn's light had begun to warm the cold stone when he reached the Shinyama Pavillion, the air touched with a languid sort of life that ensued the first bell of Dawn Rest. Milling about the base of the ancient pagoda were members of his former order, each tasked with safeguarding the city and attending to all its domestic affairs. Unlike many of them however, Benjamin had never felt in his heart the 'calling' he had heard spoken of in their meditations. Each acolyte had reflected upon being driven towards a higher purpose, and a devotion to Zintila that exceeded reason. But not him.

It was at those times that Benjamin felt detached from their private circle, an outsider in a world he had but a rudimentary understanding. It had troubled him when he first began his service, no more than a child attempting to sculpt an identity of his own based on observable surroundings. There had come a year when he wanted nothing more than to be molded into the spiritual zealotry many of them embodied. Their passion, their convictions, their utterly profound focus, all traits he wished to duplicate. All for naught in the end.

For within him resided that restless spirit, a rebellious nature that refused to be tamed. When the time for meditation came, Benjamin's mechanical nature kicked in. He wished to move, to see, to breathe and feel that of the world around him. To look internally only exposed a great sadness, a proverbial mountain of past memory. It sheltered the life of a child he wished not to recount. The answer had been simplified for him: don't participate.

A slight shift in the mountain air prompted Benjamin to turn his gaze elsewhere, captured by a group of men and women sitting perfectly apart from one another atop a flattened area of gray stone and withering grass. Their pose was easily recognizable as a meditative one, a class where the instructor thought it best to begin the day outside. Perhaps to test their initiatives against the coming cold while summer still held on by a thread.

He found himself drawn to its simplicity more than anything, their quiet nature compelling against the atmosphere of disorder that twirled elsewhere. Nothing seemed to tempt their study, a dozen or so in all sitting with legs bent, feet tucked in towards the rest of their body. Their arms were draped solemnly over bent kneecaps, shoulders lifting in harmony, conversing on a level of understanding only years of diligent practice could achieve. Strangely, he wanted to partake in it.

His feet had guided him to the edge of their gathering without invitation, not a bone stirring against his novelty despite the wind steadily growing. Hesitating, Benjamin began to chew softly along his bottom lip, eyeing each member carefully for signs of insurrection against him. But whatever he thought he might find adding turmoil to their exercise simply did not exist. Their meditation continued whether he was present or not. So, he joined them.

Continuing to contend with being an outsider, Benjamin placed his body along their periphery, setting his belongings down quietly to the side against the stone floor. Scrutinizing over the slightest hint of objection in their collective body, his nerves were given the chance to settle only when he found himself mimicking their posture and closed his eyes.

Instantly he could feel the discomfort the stone brought, small pebbles digging through the fabric of his pants and agitating the skin beneath. The floor was still cold as well, refusing to succumb to the warmth of the sun in these early bells as it bit through muscle and sinew, sinking all the way to bone. The wind only added to the discomfort, crowning a seemingly simple task now fraught with adversity, an insidious little accomplice that had been tolerable up until he was properly seated.

To know that they dealt with the same obstacles yet acted as though none of it burdened them was somewhat bewildering. Benjamin was accustomed to reed floors and temperate climates of a training hall. The few times he had partaken of meditation had been with an instructor's voice prompting him to find focus in different ways. The simplest for him had always been breathing, so he intently focused on that.

The objective was quite simple really: focus on one's breathing, and disallow outside distraction to filter in. Of course, he had found it easier to put into words than hold it in practice. The mind, especially one of Benjamin's disobedient caliber, was prone to wandering outside of its intended focus. Breaking a habit required more than just concentration. It demanded persistence even when chanced with failure, of which there was a great deal of experience to account for on his part.

Breathe in, feeling the chest expand, the nose getting cold from air intake, cutting a path down one's throat and into--I should have spoken a bit longer with uncle. I should have valued and respected his teachings more than I ever--the manner in which the chest expands, slowly, like a rolling wave on a calm day. It reaches a point--I've let him down, haven't I? He had grown fond of me over the years, though it took some time. I remember the beatings when--exhale slowly, beginning from the chest this time and creeping out through the nose, warmer than when it entered. The chest compresses, bones settling--These stones are petching annoying. Maybe if I just adjust--breathe in once more--there's that damn thrush bird again.