A/N: (I own nothing related to Octopath Traveler)

The following will contain immediate spoilers for Chapter 1, so I highly advise those who don't wish to be spoiled to complete the first chapters of each character before reading.

With that said, please enjoy!

"Another round, please."

The call from a disheveled man bellied the bartender to his feet, quickly shuffling through his cabinet for another mug. It was a busy night in the Sunshade Tavern, as it was every day. Although situated under the shade of a mountain, the desert air still drove incredulous thirst amongst the populace.

But the main selling point of the establishment was anything but its liquor.

The wry bartender returned to his patron armed with an overflowing container of mead, as per request. The cool beverage was eagerly received, and the deliverer well thanked. The patron took a large swig and let out a satisfied sigh.

The patron wasn't anything like the rest of the customers at the Tavern, and it was clear that he was an outsider. It wasn't because of his thick blue garb that adorned him from head to toe, nor the massive longsword sheathed on his hip, or even the battle-scarred, grizzled expression that rested on his face.

He was a giant. He easily stood at least two meters high upright. That he was clearly muscularly defined and confident only reinforced his aura of dominance in a room. Not even the most drunken of patrons would dare pick a fight with his stranger.

But he didn't come to this place looking for a fight. He did indeed come in from another town, but it was in search of something… or someone. Sunshade was just a pitstop, a place to hang his sword for a spell before moving on in the morning. He didn't imagine meeting anyone of remote importance in this particular town.

"Ooooh!"

The man turned around to focus in on the commotion behind him. From his stool at the bar, he saw many a patron, virtually all male, espouse rousing cheers from tables in the central area. Around them, several female figures were moving about, dancing in every which way they could imagine. Their presence was more intoxicating than the drink, at least to the patrons who quickly downed their beverages as to erase all distractions.

This was in fact the main attraction of Sunshade. Not its treasure nor tall ale. It's females, or specifically, these females.

They were dressed in outfits that left scant to the imagination. They dressed in vibrant colors and expensive jewelry covering their important parts, and little else. They sucked in all the attention within the room and elicited rounds of applause as they moved from table to table.

He had heard tales of this place from men he had once worked with. Sunshade was a popular vacation spot for them, yet he did not know why. He could only blame himself, as he prioritized his work above all other things, and never ventured this way himself. Now he knew why, and while he understood why it was so popular with them, it wasn't his cup of tea.

He noticed even more patrons coming within the halls. Two more figures entered the building. The first was a beautiful woman dressed in a similar manner to the others in the center of the hall. She wore exquisite jewelry and an eye popping scarlet red outfit, if one would call it that. Behind her was an affluent gentleman, dressed in fine threads and seemingly under some kind of spell. He didn't pay them much mind: he turned around and took another gulp of his drink.

'What am I doing here?' he thought to himself. He wasn't one to pass judgment on the life choices of others, but he wasn't in his ideal habitat. He was fresh on the hells of a promising lead, one that drew him in this direction, and now he has settled in squandering time in the tavern. If he knew this would be the inevitability of his trip, he would have never left his village in Cobbleston.

But he digressed, and looked to the positives. Every step forward is one step he had not yet taken after all these years. Even if it were by kicking and screaming, at the slowest pace his legs could yield, it would be and improvement over the status quo. With that in mind, he relaxed his nerves and let his mind wander.

His mind wandered back to the same familiar scene. One that haunted his dreams for eight long years. He wasn't always like this. In a previous life, he was a proud knight of the Kingdom of Hornburg. None would dare challenge his swordsmanship, and he was dubbed "The Unbending Blade of Hornburg." Back in simpler times, he was known as Olberic Eisenberg.

"Hells, is he man or beast!?"

That was the utterance of an enemy soldier, immobilized in the field of battle. Behind him, a squad of anticipating soldiers were at the ready.

In front of him, merely a lone knight.

One by one, the rearguard would charge forward, only to be swatted down like flies.

"He's but one, yet fights like a score!" the soldier continued.

"Gods have mercy… That's the Unbending Blade of Hornburg!" another soldier mentioned, insecurity reverberating as he spoke. "Olberic Eisenberg!"

"You know my name. And so to business. Who will be the next to die!?"

The first soldier chuckled. "Its you who'll be dyin'. Look about you-we have the numbers!"

Another enemy soldier called out for reinforcements on Olberic's left flank. Instead, he himself was reinforced by a relief squad of knights, rallying to his side.

"To Sir Olberic's side, men! The blackguards have had their way for long enough!"

To their surprise, the enemy soldier made a tactical move.

"Sound the retreat! Withdraw to the rallying point!"

The blackguards quickly ran from the battlefield, leaving the Hornburg forces the victors.

"Sir Olberic, I feared we would be too late." The knight said.

"Nothing I couldn't handle. Can you hold this position?"

"You make for His Majesty's camp sir?"

"Just so. Our foe attacked from both flanks, be we have no orders from the crown. This… concerns me."

"His Majesty is well guarded, sir…"

"Sir Erhardt is with him. I know this."

"There is no stronger knight in the realm. Other than yourself, of course, m'lord. With Sir Erhardt at his side, surely His Majesty is in no danger…?"

"Perhaps not. But we must be certain. I would know how the battle unfolds. Besides, word from the king always lifts the men's spirits."

"As you wish, sir. We will hold this ground."

With those words, he bid the soldiers farewell.

When he finally reached the camp, he was greeted by the desecrated remains of His Majesty's guards. One was noticeably absent.

"Erhardt!" Olberic called out. "Where is Erhardt!?"

He continued north, until he found his answer.

"So it was… you…"

Atop the hill, a wheezing, drooped over figure was flanked by a tall, blonde man dressed in red, who gave no response. Instead, conversation was picked up by Olberic.

"My liege!"

This reaction spurred the blonde man to turn around from his companion and face the speaker.

"Erhardt! What is the meaning of this!?"

Without saying a word, Erhardt turned back to the slumped figure of King Alfred and, with a single blow of his sword, knocked him down, lifeless.

"What… What have you done!?"

Erhardt continued the mute game, this time shifting back toward Olberic and, to his great surprise, charged and slashed him with his blade, knocking him back in pain.

"Have you not eyes? The king is dead, by my hand." Those were the first, chilling words to come from Erhardt, once the twin blade of Hornburg, now guilty of regicide.

"What madness… What treachery is this!?"

"No madness here. But call it treachery, if you will."

"I thought you a friend… a brother!"

In a rage, Olberic tried delivering a reciprocal charge toward Erhardt, only to be countered with another slash to his abdomen.

"Brothers, indeed. How many times did we cross swords like this in the practice yards? And how many times have I told you? I see your every move, your every strike before it falls."

"As I see yours!"

"Ah, but you've not seen everything. I saved one trick- for the day I knew would come!"

That was the day Hornburg fell. The fall of the Kingdom had cost Olberic not only his job, but his sense of purpose in life. He was an advisor in the ways of arms, but his passion had fizzled out, beaten out of him in that failed duel with Erhardt. For eight long years, he was a shell of a man.

Not anymore.

He had recently caught wind of Erhardt's name, which spurred him to leave his humble village in Cobbleston. Victor's Hollow was his sojourn, and Sunshade was the first settlement along the way. Although technically one of two routes to the distant northern town, the southern road through the desert was much preferable to the cold tundra of the north. It was ill-advised to travel through those lands alone, even for an old legend.

He was to finish his round of drink, but something felt wrong. He couldn't shake it, but an ill sense of foreboding enveloped the room. He shifted around to see what was amyss, but nothing seemed to be out of order. Only a hooded patron exited the establishment, nothing more.

Moments later, he caught another glimpse of the woman in red from before. She appeared to be distraught and hurriedly made for a set of stairs, unaccompanied.

Something seemed… wrong. Olberic didn't know what the situation was or if he was really capable of helping, but his sense of duty spurred him to intervene in times of crisis. He had to go.

He hastily reached into his belongings and left a payment on the counter before taking off himself. He wasn't completely intoxicated: it would take several of those drinks to make a dent in him. He did have to take care not to trip over a short, portly older man, who appeared to have a resting scowl of contempt about him.

Olberic didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. His legs thrust him forward, and marching forward he did. It seemed arcane, but it was not much different from the other day, when he first heard the utterance of the name… Erhardt.

Moving out and about on odd hours of the day was nothing new to Primrose Azelhart. As one of the dancers of the Sunshade Tavern, her role set her into an evening shift, causing her to acclimate fairly quickly. Her beauty and elegance made her a star attraction for the show, so her absence would make a noticeable impact. Her years of experience in subtlety proved useful in… outings such as these.

The town of Sunshade was known for its sunshine and pleasure, but it also contained a dark underbelly. Here, beggars roamed the streets unassisted. Women were degraded and treated worse than dogs. There was also an open secret that there was a massive slave ring amongst the dancers and the local authorities were craven or complicit to intervene.

These rumors were true, and she was one of them.

Helgenish, the disgusting portly old man he was, placed metal anklets around all of his "kittens," as he called them, to assert his dominion over them. In this town, she didn't simply work for him. She was owned by him.

She had to keep a low profile: should anyone see her, unaccompanied, they would immediately contact the guards, and Helgenish would find out. But she had to continue: the man with the Mark of the Crow had just been in her sights moments before, and she couldn't afford to throw away the opportunity.

Just as she came to a dark corner of town, she saw two figures. One of them was a hooded figure, with a tattoo along his left arm: the left wing of the Crow. This was the man she was looking for.

The other was Helgenish, in his putrid, dirty flesh. Primrose quickly made way for cover and listened in.

"…You will bring the women I need, won't you, know," came from the left-hand Man. "Competent help is so hard to come by these days. Whatever is a man to do?"

For the first time, Helgenish seemed nervous. "I-I can assure you, m'lord, I am doing all that I can-"

"Helgenish. We are friends, are we not? Friends take care of one another, yes? They do not… disappoint each other."

"I-I will do everything in my power-"

"I saw a fine dancing girl in the tavern. I would rather like such a girl for my own."

Primrose was speechless as the conversation progressed.

'…So it is as I thought. Helgenish knows him.'

"Bring the women to the place marked on this map. And…Helgenish? Try not to keep me waiting."

"B-but of course, m'lord."

A map would prove quite useful, she thought. She needed to know more, but the left-hand Man had begun walking away. From the looks of it, he was approaching the Catacombs.

Primrose ducked down and barely escaped the view of her master, before he left her sight and cleared the area for her.

She knew what needed to be done. The man she had waited so long to find had just shown himself, and she couldn't afford to wait around any longer.

But she couldn't do it alone. The anklet wasn't just a signifier of her social caste: it was a counterweight that hindered her mobility. If things came to blows, she would be at a disadvantage for as long as they shackled her. She needed allies… or at least an honest sword who could spare a moment to assist a damsel in distress.

She looked around the neighborhood, hoping to catch any lone guard still on duty, or a sellsword not preoccupied at the Tavern. There weren't too many options from dirty old men and helpless women at this hour. Still, she had to take what she could get, and made a dash for the corner to purvey her options.

As she made it to the corner and prepared to turn, she collided with something hard… and soft?

"Oof!" She reflexively cried out as she was knocked to the ground in the confusion. She pulled herself up and got a better glimpse of what she hit.

The offender in question was a very tall man, clad in blue. He was armed with a grizzled expression and an equally large sword. Best of all, he was alone. This was the ideal she was hoping for.

"Are you okay, m'lady?" The man reached down and offered a hand to help her up.

Scratch that. He was better.

"Oh, thank you, noble knight." Primrose coyly took the man's hand and came to her feet. She deepened her voice, turning up the charm to eleven. "These streets are quite dangerous to travel alone for a girl like me."

"Indeed, they do. I've only recently entered this town and I can tell that not all is at it appears."

The man in blue began to turn away, but Primrose couldn't let this opportunity pass her. She quickly reached for his shoulder, regaining his attention.

"Where are you going, sir? Wouldn't you rather spend this evening with me?"

"I came this way because I had a hunch something unsavory was going on. It turns out that it was just a hunch, so I am returning to where I was before."

"Oh… but your hunch is correct." She had never once failed to Allure a man, but this one was a tough nut to crack. "I'm in a bind right now, and I need help."

"What kind of help?"

"There's a certain man I need to follow, as so long as I wear these anklets, it's dangerous for me to go alone."

The man turned away and scratched his chin. He gave a few moments to think about what she had said.

"My instincts tell me… that you are right. Lead the way, miss…"

"Primrose," she smiled. "And yours…?"

"Olberic."