Six Letters of Instruction

A Mark was the sublimation of desire—

From this perspective, whether Apprentice or Scholar, every supernatural being was also an idealist. Depending on the Path they chose, they displayed certain traits to a greater or lesser degree. No—perhaps it was precisely because of those traits that they received a Mark and set foot upon a Path.

Supernatural beings on the Path of the Candle tended to be intensely curious and eager to learn, but they were also the least compassionate of all. Those of the Cocoon were full of passion, practically the very definition of neurotic.

Apprentices devoted to the Heart were often energetic, good at singing and dancing. To those of Silence, however, they were all far too noisy, incapable of appreciating the aesthetics of quiet.

Apprentices of the Grail were the most immersed in sensual desires, whether lust, greed, or appetite. Apprentices of the Key, meanwhile, were eccentric and made it hard to imagine what they saw in their daily lives. They also had a habit of taking unconventional routes, often vanishing without a trace when no one was paying attention.

Depending on the Path they followed, those of the Edge tended toward one of two extremes: schemer or gladiator. The two sides were often utterly at odds, making arguments all too easy to spark. There were also antisocial lunatics whom both sides rejected, and they too fell within the domain of the Edge.

To other supernatural beings, Apprentices of Ember were synonymous with "arrogance" and "perfectionism." They would tolerate no flaws, whether in their work or in themselves.

Supernatural beings devoted to different principles, or even to different Hours, were never short of opposition and strife. Each held deeply rooted stereotypes about the others, and unfortunately—

those stereotypes were actually true!

Most such impressions were not prejudice, but fact. There were certainly supernatural beings whose personalities did not fit the mold, but overall, their temperaments tended to align with the Paths they belonged to.

"If you wish to walk the Path of Ember, whether you choose the renowned Path of the Forge, the Path of Shaping, the more scholarly Path of the Sage or Path of the Artisan, or some of the more secretive Paths, the essential principle is the same."

As she used a method Hohenheim couldn't understand to coat the water tank in a layer of deep black, Olive lectured Hohenheim, who had obediently sat down.

"That is dissatisfaction with the status quo."

"Because you remain dissatisfied, you refuse to return to the ashes. So you kindle a fire. So you bring change."

"Hohenheim, you must understand: 'Seek a key for a lock; seek a door for a wall.' Or, in words both more ancient and more potent: 'The Path, through knowledge, pursues men, like a bird of prey seizing the weak, like a beast wrestling the helpless, leaving no opening unfilled.'"

Hearing the familiar words of his homeland—spoken with what sounded like an accent—Hohenheim nearly lost control of his expression. Thoughts raced through his mind, gathering into one enormous question mark.

?

Wait, classical Chinese was still chasing him?

Fortunately, Olive seemed to mistake his reaction for something else. After a brief pause, she explained.

"This is the Trace-Solving Tongue. Those who learn this ancient language can make themselves understood throughout the vast lands east of the East. I can pronounce it, but I can't write it. Scholars who study the Preservation Arts believe that as long as it continues to speak through the forms of clouds and mountains, humanity will endure. Next, I'll paraphrase its meaning. Listen closely..."

"..."

And so it went, and so it went.

With the Secret Atmosphere lingering on the tabletop to help him, Hohenheim more or less grasped the meaning of the abstruse secret phrase.

In other words: knowledge pursues people.

Just as every locksmith sooner or later dreamed of doors, keys, and chains, after receiving a Mark, even a couch potato would be pursued by knowledge, willingly or otherwise, and become restless. It was as unstoppable as a desperate hunger.

When that restlessness went unsatisfied, it could twist into a fear of existence itself. And when that fear accumulated, the shadow of the Hour, the Wolf of Division, would come prowling, taking the souls of those who could no longer bear the burden and leaving behind only a shell with a shattered mind.

The three disciplines commonly grouped under Great Knowledge as the Art of Night could cause similar troubles, while studying the brighter Art of Day might bring even worse consequences. How to balance the pursuit of knowledge against the need to stay alive was a favorite topic of discussion among Scholars.

And Apprentices?

Their lives were worthless anyway. If they didn't like it, they'd fight!

Perhaps it was an outlandish dream they couldn't shake. Perhaps the ravings of the lunatic before them had seemed too real. Or perhaps they'd inherited some strange book... Wild Apprentices kept springing up, one crop after another. Most of them didn't even live long enough for the Prevention and Suppression Bureau to come knocking at their door before they got themselves killed for one reason or another.

The bitterness of it was enough for the Kael-Isum Review to publish a special year-end volume, "The Soham Award: A Compendium of Stupid Ways to Die." It was ordered by organizations far and wide as a cautionary textbook for newcomers, one that never went out of date no matter how often it was read.

"In any case, Dream Entry is risky, so be careful in your pursuit of knowledge. The Prevention and Suppression Bureau does a good job of preventing dream-related harm. When you're ready to explore a dream, you can apply to use their Dream-Entering Chamber. As for alchemy, don't rush into hands-on practice. Read this book first, and then I'll arrange a place for you to practice."

Something hard poked Hohenheim in the waist. He took the hardcover book his mentor handed him and read the title aloud, stunned by the lines of data appearing across the screen of light.

[Six Letters of Instruction: This book records warnings and confessions concerning the price of practicing the Formless Secret Arts. It was given to a student by the seventeenth-century occultist Julian Corselli, who was rumored to be immortal.]

[Aspect—Book: A book is an undying memory.]

[Aspect—Readable: There are worse things in the world.]

[Theme—Ember: ALITUR PROPRIIS IGNIS CINERIBUS (Fire is nourished by its own ashes)]

"Six Letters of Instruction?"

"Exactly. As the saying goes, 'A book is an undying memory.' Your task now is to finish reading it, understand its deeper meaning, and compile it into a Secret Lore. The knowledge inside isn't profound, but it's very practical. That's why the Prevention and Suppression Bureau allows it to circulate openly, within limits. Or, as they put it, 'educational.'"

Clearly not fond of the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, Olive gave its restrictions a sarcastic review. She effortlessly lifted the upright water tank with one hand, then turned serious again as she instructed him:

"I still have a few unfinished commissions. That's all for today's lesson. Once you've finished Six Letters of Instruction, come find me here again."

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Got it. Thank you, Mentor. Take care!"

Weighing the substantial book in his hands, Hohenheim answered Olive. His eyes drifted to the bright yellow [Study] action bar slowly rising on the screen of light, illustrated with a simple drawing of a lit light bulb. He struggled to hold back his grin.

Heh-heh, I show up for a lesson and get a book as a gift? That's amazing!

Studying? Studying made me happy!