The warm sun's kiss floated down from the bright blue sky, dissipating what wisps of ivory clouds floated around the pine scented mountain air. Sounds of distant horses and cattle fell subordinate to the vibrating chants of the monodominic black robed monks of the marble monastery. Where the sun did not reach, cool shadows from the surrounding tall trees provided shade and comfortable places for contemplation on top fallen leaves and pines.

Under one such tree, ex-Master Paladin Edvin sat dressed in the black monodominic attire. His eyes were closed and his youthful body was propped up against the tree as he thought quietly to himself. Under one of his arms was a leather wrapped book with yellow crinkled pages poking out.

A lot has been on the young masters mind since he arrived at the monastery. When he had come to his senses after the horn blast of Roland cleared his mind he had struggled weakly to escape the monodominics, but something inside of him urged him to stay, and ever since he had been following the monks in everything, from their morning prayers, to their night chantings, only slipping away around dinner with his fellow captured paladins to think about everything under his favorite tree. Slowly his fellow paladins eventually blended into the crowd and he became alone, with only his favorite spot as his sanctuary.

Recently the Abbot had approached Edvin and handed him a small ancient book, claiming the great minotaur named Freg wished for him to have it. Since then he had been studying it profusely. The book was strange, as it was written as if Freg was talking directly to Edvin, teaching him martial skills, sharpening his senses through exercises illustrated within the pages as well as explaining rhetorics and philosophies, but the strangest chapters were the ones that seemed to explain leadership and loyalty to followers.  Despite the oddities of the strange book, Edvin followed every word, soaking it in and meditating on its words, sometimes with the help of Monk Wilxham, who was always willing to spar with the young master. 

Edvin respected Wilxham, out of all the monks Edvin related to Wilxham the most, as he was born into justinianism just like Edvin, and yet he is one of the most devout monodominic monks Edvin had met. The two bonded over Fregs manuel, and would spend evenings discussing it along side the topics of religion and history. Slowly, and sometimes uncomfortably, Edvin was losing his grip on his devout justinian ways that he practiced with the paladins and slowly replaced the voids with the wisdom of the monodominics as well as the rich history of the land.

As Edvin pondered all this with the cold shade veiling his face, a sudden breeze chilled him slightly and a blade was tossed beside him into the leaves and pines with a soft thud. Edvin opened his eyes and squinted as the suns light rushed his unadjusted pupils and made out the silhouette of his friend.

“Ready for practice, Master Edvin?” Wilxham asked in his usual calm tone. The Man was older than Edvin, but not by much, maybe five years. The monk usually had a relaxed expression on his face, which was tanner than the average Charlin, but kept the usual pale blue eyes and ebony hair, which he kept controlled in a long pony tail, revealing his clean shaven face and square jaw. If the man didn’t wear such humble monk cloths he could have been easily mistaken for a noble knight or tourney champion, which his toned and muscular figure complimented. 

Edvin looked young and unimpressive next to the man. Although he boasted a lean muscular figure, his young face only interrupted by dark stubble on his masculine chin, spoke of purity and youth. The former Paladin didn’t become a master at a very young age for no reason however, and Wilxham knew this well, for Edvin was one of his quickest learning and adaptive sparring partners he had ever had, and one already filled with talent and experience. 

“Ready as always,” Edvin finally replied, snatching the arming sword and heaving himself off the ground and placing his bare feet flat on the spiny floor under the pine tree. The youthful warrior shoved Freg’s book into his robe pocket and looked back at Wilxham.

‘Great,” Wilxham replied with a wide smile, and put his hand on the young man's shoulder as they started to walk towards the monastery. 

The older monk glanced at the contemplative youth with his brow raised in curiousity, “So, what were you thinking about?”

Edvin gave a friendly scoff, his eyes staring at his new crimson monodominic sash“What I always think about.”

“Being a ‘pupil’ of Freg, a Paladin of Krax gone monodominic,” Wilham paused, “Or being a sore loser!”

With his last word Wilxham unsheathed his own blade and swung it in jest at Edvin. Edvin laughed and quickly parried with his own blade and gave Wilxham a shove, causing him to take a few steps back before reeling back and pushing Edvin in return.

Edvin lifted his fist in playful manner “You ass, I’ll pound you!”

The monk simply cracked his knuckles at the youth, “Oh yeah?”

The two threw down their blades and began swinging wildly at each other, smiles plastered on each others face. Edvin jabbed rapidly at Wilxhams abdomen, while Wilxham tried to push Edvin out of his range. Eventually the mock fight got so intense that the sounds of smacking and yelps caused a few stray monks to rush to the fight to break it up.

The intervening monks ripped the two apart after a couple unsuccessful grapples and started to drag them away from each other. The two locked eyes angrily, but soon they light up and the pair began to laugh madly as the furious monks insisted they be separated.

“To think,” Edvin thought to himself, “not long ago Wilxham was offering his neck to my blade for execution, and I considered it; Now look at us.” 

[hider=Things to know!]

- Edvin is converting

- Something Fregtastic is going on

[/hider]