Promises

The mine shaft had been long abandoned, but well maintained. Master Irana had instructed that his treasure be kept away within the stony interior, beyond twists and turns and branching pathways, with not a sign of which way to go to find it. His pupil, Mirn, had done just that, but had also made sure to memorize the passageway to reach it. And though he knew he should not, he traversed the narrow cavern to find the opening in which Irana's blade was embedded into the stony floor.

With Irana's passing, Mirn had taken the title of Master, and all of the responsibilities and possessions thereof. He dressed in fine clothings, and wore the empty sheath of his deceased master's blade on his waist at all times. He kept his appearance tidy and straight, and was not to show unnecessary emotion to the students which now studied under his rule. He had not been fully trained himself, however, and found that it took him far more effort than it had appeared to take Irana to continue with his daily routines. He frequently wondered if these were the struggles which his master had had to go through, or if he had been more practiced and skilled and had managed as easily as he appeared.

This was the reason that Mirn had ensured that he knew the path to Irana's sword. In the evenings, when his duties were completed and the student's had gone home, Mirn frequently passed through the thrice locked doorway to the mine's rocky passages. Swiftly, he made his way through the caverns, down the twists and turns, taking his choices at each fork without a moment's hesitation. It took him an hour before he reached the cavernous room, empty save for the sole sword sitting in the center. It had been five years. There were cobwebs stretching up and down its length, but the blade itself was untouched by rust or age.

Mirn's hand instinctively rested on the sheath on his hip as he stared at the sword. He felt as though he could see his master's spirit sitting there beside it, his eyes closed and his legs crossed, meditating the way he used to do when Mirn would come to him with questions after hours. He could practically hear Irana's voice calling out to him expectantly, almost but not quite impatiently, knowing already the questions that would be coming his way.

The questions flowed freely off of Mirn's tongue as he stood alone in the room, listening to his own words bouncing off of the walls and coming back to him, not an answer in sight. He knew that he would find no answers in the dank and dirty space. But it was relieving to voice his concerns, knowing that the only one who would hear him was himself. His student's could not know of the internal struggles he was facing. He needed to a strong foundation for them all.

Another hour passed before Mirn finally turned away from the blade and back the way he had come. The sheath by his side felt incomplete without a blade in it, and he often considered taking the blade and putting it back in its old home. But he had made a promise. And if he was going to be a master, than that was where he was going to start. By keeping his promises.

And so he walked away.