The party stopped at the Saintsbridge tavern at sunset. "Stupid kid," muttered Therion. "Running off into a forest like that. Does he have no conscious?"

Ophilia held the child's shoulder protectively. "Hush, Therion. It was all for his friend."

The child, Emil was his name, gazed at the ground absently.

Therion shrugged. "Whatever." He turned his back to Ophilia and sauntered to the bartender.

Ophilia smiled at the group. "Well, I'm going to take Emil back to his parents and complete the Kindling. Why don't you all settle down and have a drink or two? You sure worked hard. Primrose and H'aanit already headed to the inn."

Olberic nodded his head in approval. "A fine offer."

Alfyn yawned. "Shucks, I agree."

"Indeed, I could use a drink, myself," Cyrus agreed.

Tressa, however, was apprehensive. "I'm not really in the mood for a drink. How about I buy for all of you?" She made a "peace" sign with her right hand. "It's on me!"

Alfyn hooted. "Hooray!"

"Now don't drink too much, you four. You better be sober when I return!" Ophilia proclaimed.

Olberic placed his hand over his heart. "I shall remain lucid, I swear on my honour."

Ophilia looked at Olberic hesitantly, and then left the group to their own devices.

After a few drinks and stories of their pasts, Alfyn had a bright idea. "Hey! Why don't we have a competition?"

Olberic's eyes lit up. Cyrus smirked. "Do elaborate."

Alfyn ran his hand through his hair sheepishly. "Well, I was thinking we have a drinking competition. I may not look like it, but I was a very competent drinker back in Clearbrook."

Olberic shot to his feet. "I accept your challenge!"

Cyrus chuckled. "Well, I may as well accept." He turned to Therion. "How about you?"

"Fine, whatever." Therion said, though his expression was anything but unenthused.

A wave of nervousness fell over Tressa. She looked at her coin pouch. Oh no. I'm going to be broke by the end of this!

Alfyn waved his mug in the air. "Let the game begin!"

An hour had passed, and only Olberic and Alfyn remained. The bartender watched the competitors anxiously. His supply of booze was nearly depleted, just like Tressa's leaves. At the start, she looked on in awe as the men consumed mug after mug filled with Saintsbridge's most potent alcohol. As time progressed however, her coin pouch became lighter and lighter, and she grew impatient. Oh, please be done. By Bifelgan the Merchant, please put your drinks down. It appeared that Bifelgan heard her that day, and Ophilia walked into the tavern at that very moment. "I'm ba-"

Therion and Cyrus were unconscious on the ground. Olberic could barely lift his mug. Alfyn, however, looked perfectly fine. "It looks like I win…" He mumbled before immediately collapsing. It appeared that Alfyn's confidence was just a front to demoralise his enemy.

"A fine duel. You have my thanks…" Olberic croaked. He fell from his seat as well. The bartender was pleased and promptly left.

"By Aelfric's flame…" Ophilia mouthed. She glanced at Tressa, her eyes wide with concern. "Tressa, can you take one of these men back to the inn? I must return to the cathedral to gather help in returning the rest to their beds."

Tressa saluted her. "O-okay…"

Ophilia stormed out of the tavern with a huff. Tressa turned her gaze to the drunk men. Uh, which one do I choose?

She stepped closer and examined their pockets. Therion carried a considerable amount of leaves and apples. She took some of his cash. Always looking for a bargain, she thought.

First, she picked up Alfyn, but he proved too heavy. By process of elimination, Olberic was surely out of the picture. Cyrus looks the lightest, maybe I'll be able to help him. She attempted to heft Cyrus onto her shoulders, but an overpowering smell of dusty books filled her nostrils. She coughed and dropped him at once. Dusty old man, she thought. She then glanced at Therion. I shouldn't try with him either. One bad move, and he'll get mad.

At that moment, Olberic stirred. "I'm.. still… fighting…"

Tressa helped him to his feet. "There there, big guy. Back to the inn."

The two strode out into the night. The streets of Sainstbridge were empty. A cool breeze brushed Tressa's cheek. She focused on guiding Olberic to the inn. His drunken gait was difficult to control, but she tried her best regardless. This clearly offended Olberic, however. "I am… Olberic Eisenberg, the Unbending Blade! I do not need a mere child to support me."

"Shhh…" Tressa whispered. "We're almost there."

Olberic was quite secretive of his true identity. He only told the fellow travelers bits and pieces of his past, and very few words were said about his once best friend, Erhardt. The origin of his nickname was also a mystery. For Olberic to loudly proclaim his past, Tressa knew the alcohol had loosened his lips quite widely. Perhaps she could learn a bit about him, and sell this information to make up for the drinking deficit.

"Hey, Olberic?" Tressa began. "How did you get your nickname?"

Olberic was silent for a moment. "It all started long ago, lass." His voice was suddenly clear and stern. It was as if all the alcohol had been siphoned from his body, and replaced with a lucidity that could only be achieved when reminiscing about one's past.

"I was but a lad in the service of the King of Hornburg. I swung a sword for him, and was rewarded for it. It was all I had ever known. One day, a man named Erhardt joined the guard. His talent with a blade was far greater than my own. Nevertheless, the two of us grew close. He was quite popular with the ladies. But I had an eye for him. After some pushing, we finally dueled. And by the gods, his skill with a blade was truly more masterful than I had first believed!"

Tressa felt heat rising in her face. I-is he really t-talking a-about what I th-think he is?

Olberic continued his story. "And so, many of the guards had come to know my blade. My unyielding fervor for the art of battle. By this, I became known as the Unbending Blade!"

The two had stopped. Tressa felt weak in the knees. All kinds of images appeared in her brain. Lewd things that had never crossed her mind. Get out! I'll pay you!

Olberic gazed into the stars. "Lass," he said, his voice filled with melancholy, "would you like a personal demonstration of my prowess?"

Tressa was at a loss for words. Olberic suddenly swept her off her feet. All signs of him being drunk had disappeared.

"Where are we going?" Tressa asked, her voice filled with bewilderment.

"To privacy." Olberic responded.

He walked with great determination towards the Saintsbridge bridge. However, it was very dark out. Olberic tripped and the two of them tumbled into the river below. Luckily, the river's current was weak, so the two were fine.

Tressa emerged from the stream and spat out water. Her hat had fallen off and was caught on a nearby rock. "Pah! Watch where you're going!"

Olberic stared at her lustfully. "You have beautiful hair, lass."

Blood filled Tressa's cheeks. She looked away from Olberic. "A-anyway, what did you want to show me?"

The light of the Saintsbridge cathedral illuminated the two in a brilliant teal light. A myriad of stars danced above their heads, and the moon, full and bright, smiled down upon them as well. Olberic embraced Tressa and he gently felt her chest, flat as the Flatlands themself. "I shall reveal my blade to you," he said as his lips brushed Tressa's. The feel of Olberic's stubble sent her heart aflutter.

Slowly, Olberic removed his cover and his blade sprung out, long and certainly unbending. Tressa looked at it in disbelief. I never knew that boy's blades could be so pretty! I wonder how much it's worth…

She fell to her knees and lightly touched the tip. Olberic shivered. "Just like that lass."

Tressa stroked it, at a snail's pace at first, but soon her left hand joined and her movements became quicker. Olberic gasped with pleasure. Tressa's face got redder and redder. Sorry, pa. Please don't disown me.

She took a deep breath momentarily, and then carefully inserted the tip of the blade into her mouth. Olberic shuddered fiercely. Tressa licked the tip gently for a moment, but it wasn't long until she took the whole shaft into her mouth. Down into her moist throat it went as she methodically lowered more and more of its girth into her esophagus. The tip suddenly scratched the back of her neck and she spat the blade out with a noisy gag. It was coated in saliva. "Again, lass," Olberic pleaded.

Tressa continued this blade-handling technique a few more times before Olberic clutched her cheeks. "Every blade needs a sheathe."

Tressa nodded and began to undress. She somehow knew exactly what he was asking.

Olberic admired her figure as she tossed he white attire onto the same rock her hat was positioned on. She was petite - rather uninteresting compared to Primrose or H'aanit because she had no curves to speak of - but something about the way she shyly presented herself made Olberic's blade cast Stout Wall on itself.

Tressa's sheathe had a small tuft of curly chocolate hair above it. The perspiration from the river dotted it with dew. The pretty sight something leaves couldn't buy. Olberic cleared his throat. "I don't think my greatsword can fit in such a small sheathe."

Tressa smiled affectionately. "It doesn't hurt to try. You don't get bargains unless you put your mind to it."

Olberic knotted his brow. "Fair point."

He positioned Tressa on the riverbank. Her rear faced him. He splashed some water on her sheathe and positioned his blade. "Let the battle begin."

Tressa groaned as Olberic slowly sheathed his blade inside her. He moved his hips back and forth rhythmically. His sword grated against the walls of her sheathe. Tressa felt pleasure more potent than she had ever known fill her body.

However, the fun time soon came to a close.

Suddenly, Olberic's mind filled with memories of his duels with Erhardt, and how he sheathed his blade into Erhardt many a time. "Erhardt," he grunted.

Tressa, who was spreading her cheeks with her hands, was confused. "Erhardt?"

Olberic's blows became more punishing. He thrusted with even greater force. Tressa screamed in agony as Olberic's shouts grew louder. "Erhardt! Erhardt!"

"St-stop! Olberic, please stop!" Tressa cried as a potent pain filled her sheathe.

Tressa's cries for help returned Olberic to the present. He looked at Tressa. Her rear was a bright red, and her body had been scraped against the rocks of the riverbank. Her innocence was defiled. Guilt filled his heart. He unsheathed his blade. "I'm sorry, lass…"

Tressa gasped for air. Saliva poured from her mouth and onto the ground. She gingerly stood up, but wracking pain filled her and she collapsed. Her eyes looked soulless.

Olberic offered a hand "Let me he-"

"HEY!" A voice cried from above.

Olberic looked skyward. There stood Ophilia from atop the bridge. Raw hatred was written all over her face.

"A regrettable outcome," Olberic muttered.

"BY AELFRIC'S FLAME, YOU COME UP HERE MISTER EISENBERG, AND I WILL PERSONALLY OVERSEE THE ABSOLUTION OF YOUR SIN INSIDE THE CATHEDRAL!" She shouted. Her staff was visibly shaking with anger, even in the black night. "COME UP HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Olberic dressed himself and Tressa, and then he picked her up. Tears filled Ophilia's eyes as she watched Olberic approach her. She put her hand over her mouth and gasped in terror. "My poor baby, Tressa. Oh, my poor baby.."