Well, more specifically, he was thinking about their first lesson against each other. Rhazin was a user of Flame, Alcheic, and Void, so his master and Monstroth's Uncle - his master at the time - had thought they could make the two of them duel to test out their mastery of their own Mystics. Of course Monstroth was a prodigy with Mineral, so he had an advantage, but Rhazin was surprisingly powerful.
The way the dark-haired friend of Monstroth's had switched between his Mystics, using every one of them to gain any advantage he could... Well, it had surprised Monstroth. Rhazin could only use Voidgates at the time but that had been enough. He popped around everywhere, throwing glass balls made from melting sand with his flame then shaping it with Alcheic.
Honestly, the only way Monstroth had even won was by creating a small sandstorm - something he had gotten in trouble for - and catching Rhazin in the confusion. Monstroth wondered if Rhazin was powerful enough to beat him now.
"Are you paying attention, boy!?"
Monstroth snapped out of his thoughts. His master was now glaring at him, looking every bit as sinister as usual. "Sorry, master, I was thinking about my duels with my friend when we were younger."
The bald man snorted. "Well, think about that after you can feel out the vibrations in the surrounding area, you.."
The man trailed off as his gaze settled on something past Monstroth. Turning, Monstroth realized there were men running toward them. At first, he thought nothing of it, but then he saw the weapons held at the ready. The masks covering faces. And the flames prepared in hands. Flame was popularly used as a weapon in the plains, apparently, so...
"Bandits?" I asked my master.
He gave me a harsh look and cursed. "No, boy," he said, "Bandits wouldn't attack lone travelers without cargo" He pointed at them, obviously meaning their numbers. There had to be nearly fifty of them. "These men move in too large a group. Usually that means one thing."
Monstroth swallowed. He had never really fought for his life. Despite all the training he had gone through with his previous masters and duels he had won, Monstroth had never fought to defend his life. And he knew he was about to. He knew what his master was about to say.
"B-but why would they want to kill a Sovereign?!" It made no sense!
My master cursed and pulled up clay from the ground. There was a lot around this area, apparently. "Foolish boy, we are skirting around Tav to head toward the port city of Naston! Those Tav nobles hate anyone above themselves, so this happens from time to time when me or the others pass through here."
Monstroth swallowed hard. He was actually scared. He must have been a sight to his master - a man well over a head taller than the majority of the mounseiken people on the planet, scared of a fight - for he snorted. Monstroth noticed clay moving along his master's body and covering every inch of his skin, with the exception of his eyes. More amassed in large bubbled on his exposed arms and head. It looked... very odd.
"Gather clay from the ground and make some golems," the Sovereign said as the men approached. Monstroth could hear their feet now.
"That figure I made earlier! Make as many as you can and have them attack! I know you can do that much, you incompetent fool!"
Monstroth jumped and got started pulling the clay from the ground. For some reason, the oncoming threat made it easier to pull the brown, almost liquid, mineral from the surrounding ground. Just as he started forming the first figure, Monstroth's master ran toward the men in masks. Was he insane? Didn't he want to wait until the golems were done?!
Wait, how did Monstroth make the golems fight?!
As he started forming the second one, Monstroth saw his master clash with the masked men. At first, he feared for his master's life; they had not necessarily gotten along in this last month, but he didn't want the man to die. But, his fears were suppressed when he saw his master turn the clay on his arm that was bubbled up turn into a spike and pierce the first man.
It was... something out of a story. Of course, he never read books, but Monstroth still remembered the stories he was read as a child. His mother had liked telling the story of the ten heroes, the Herost. The knights that upheld their creator, the Heron, and his beliefs of justice. Well, the Sovereign that slipped through these masked men, stabbing them with spikes of clay and taking large balls of flame, yet continuing onward, looked just like one of the Herost.
The men had forgotten about Monstroth and his three golems. They focused on the storm of clay that assaulted them. The men had switched to trying to use Mineral and Air, it seemed, but it was almost laughable. The Sovereign was unaffected by any Mystic. Flame was the only one that worked, drying up his clay, but the clay-covered man simply replaced the dry section with more from the bubbles on his leg and head and continued to slaughter with spikes.
It was... well, amazing.
A few men headed toward Monstroth. What did he do? He had never killed before... but, with his master fighting so hard, he had to do something. The golems seemed to be waiting on a command. They stood silently and watched the people who were now coming after Monstroth. It gave the massive ex-prince an idea.
Monstroth imagined that the four clay golems he had made were his uncle, father, and two guards. They were protecting him. He could imagine them fighting these masked men with Mineral.
As if it was a dream - where everything you willed came into being - the clay figures moved to intercept the oncoming men.