The village of Clearbrook was tucked away far from the eyes of most travelers and passerby, perched between tall trees and gentle streams that characterized the Riverlands as a place of such beauty and serene grace. The town was so small that it almost seemed as if a single sneeze was all that it would take to blow it right off the map, insignificant to the world at large but everything to the people who lived within its boundaries.

Alfyn Greengrass stood in a cozy home within the village, his light brown hair unable to settle properly in its loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore a vibrant emerald jacket that seemed somehow too large and too small for his imposing and large frame, and a loose satchel that was barely organized hung from one shoulder. He stood at the counter of the house's kitchen area as he ground materials together to form one cohesive liquid.

His work was in the foreground of coughs that echoed throughout the small room. An old man was stretched across the bed, a young woman in the seat beside him. Her eyes were filled with concern as she watched tears stream down his cheeks as a result of the violent seizing of his body. "Grandpa... Be strong!" the girl whispered, reaching out for his hand as if that would be able to save him from the illness that was coming to deal such damage inside and out.

It was after a few breathless moments that the young woman, Henriette, forced herself to her feet, and she walked in Alfyn's direction with concern glazing over her eyes anew. "Can you really save him with that medicine of yours?" she asked. There had scarcely been a reason to doubt Alfyn's skills in the past, and she was fully aware of such a fact. Still, that did little to calm the paranoia that existed every single time that she even dared to imagine one of her loved ones hurt or suffering.

"You betcha! Just sit tight," Alfyn assured her. He worked diligently for a few more moments before a triumphant grin crossed his features. "Bam! That should do 'er!" He approached the old man with a bowl in hand, bold liquid medicine sitting at the base of the dish. He held it towards the man's lips a moment later. "Drink it down slowly now..."

The man followed Alfyn's directions, and for a long moment, the room was silent. Everyone was expecting him to burst into yet another coughing fit again, but the sound of his wheezing never returned. Instead, the man's eyes were overcome with relief and shock as he looked at Alfyn. "Well, I'll be! Thank you, my boy," he said gratefully.

Alfyn chuckled and shook his head. "Don't mention it. Just doin' my job," he replied simply. He moved back in the direction of the counter to gather his supplies together once again, every action methodical and practiced just like the sincere smile that was pressed simply across his lips. "This'll stop the coughing for now, but your lungs have seen better days. Try to give the pipe a rest, sir, you hear?"

The old man nodded as Alfyn crossed in the direction of the door. Henriette intercepted him before he could go. "Oh, Alfyn! Thank you ever so much!" she exclaimed, her eyes still brimming with tears from the overwhelming fear that she had felt just a few moments prior. "How blessed we are to have an apothecary like you in our little village." She shoved one hand into her pocket and pulled out a few leaves before trying to drop them into Alfyn's palm. "It's not much, but... Please..."

Alfyn shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah, it's on the house. Why don't you hold onto that and buy something tasty for you and your grandpa?" he asked. Henriette, seemingly understanding that Alfyn had already made up his mind, nodded hesitantly and returned the leaves to her pocket as he walked towards the door. "I'll be back to check in on him, okay? Be careful until then."

Alfyn was out of the house not long afterwards, his smile still simple and perfect on his asymmetrical features. He let out a sigh as he stared down at his feet, and he began to follow the familiar path up to the most bittersweet part of the town. Clearbrook was a small and simple place with the entire town taking up a full perimeter of less than a mile. Alfyn was headed back to the far corner of the village to visit the one person who he knew he would be able to count on above all else.

The cemetery of Clearbrook was as peaceful as it was tragic. There were a few stone markings set out here and there, each with flowers springing up in front of them. Offerings were left from time to time, but nature itself was starting to thank the fallen souls for their lives with the gentle blossoms. Alfyn's destination was the grave at the back of the graveyard, and he stood over the stone in a way that cast it completely in his shadow despite the overhead sunshine radiating peace and perfection onto the realm of Orsterra below.

The people of Orsterra counted on apothecaries to heal sicknesses with medicine in its infancy. Clerics and healing magic were helpful, yes, but there was only so much that white magic was capable of doing in terms of illnesses. Healing magic could restore physical wounds to a state of serenity, but sicknesses were a different story, and that was where people like Alfyn came in. The people of the continent relied on apothecaries such as Alfyn to ensure that illnesses were cured and kept under control, but there were some sicknesses that apothecaries had failed to cure, leaving the bitter taste of tragedy on the lips of those resilient enough to brave the profession.

"Mama..." Alfyn whispered as he looked down at the grave. The name written upon the stone, Elena Greengrass, was a familiar one to him in a thousand different ways. It was the title that belonged to the kindest woman that Alfyn had ever known, but it was also the name of someone who had been laid to rest for the final time after sickness laid claim to her beautiful life.

Alfyn's smile was bittersweet and bright as he continued. "Did you see me, Ma? I whipped up an antitussive elixir like you wouldn't believe!" he exclaimed. His smile could only last for so long though, and it started to slip away soon afterwards. One of his first rules as an apothecary was to never stop smiling until everything was over. As long as there was hope and a beat in his heart, there was a reason to be happy. Even so, the brightest of masks still cast shadows when given the chance to set aside their initial appearances, leaving behind something somber in Alfyn's eyes that he knew would never be erased. "Can't believe it's been a year already... Am I any closer to being the man I want to be? The man he was..."

Alfyn had never known his father. Elena was the only parental figure that had ever existed in his childhood. Alfyn had asked about him a few times, and Elena had just shaken her head and smiled sadly, saying that Alfyn was the only family that she would ever need. Over the years, Alfyn came to be satisfied with that response as well, knowing that no dreamed illusion of a father would ever be able to stand up to the incredible role model that Elena had become for him. Instead of a father figure, Alfyn wound up looking in the direction of someone else, leaving another set of footsteps for him to chase with an eager apothecary's smile on his face.

"Alf! I've been looking all over for you!"

Alfyn's tragically-twisted nostalgia was cut off by the sound of a voice over his shoulder, and he turned to see a familiar face dashing in his direction. Zeph had been Alfyn's friend for as long as either one of them could remember. Zeph's brown hair was darker than Alfyn's and had always been neater than his, falling short and clean around his features. He wore the same color of bright green on his jacket, and a similar satchel to Alfyn's hung from his shoulder.

Alfyn smiled instinctively when he realized that he wasn't alone. It was impossible to say if he was responding on gut reactions or if his relief to see Zeph truly had outmatched his internal workings for the moment. "Heya, Zeph. Done for the day?" Alfyn asked casually.

Zeph nodded with a light smile. "Yes. Only two patients today. Having you around sure eases the burden," he replied. Everything about him was a muted sort of brightness, like the light of day was being viewed through a pristine pane of pale glass. Alfyn had come to find beauty in such things, though he wasn't entirely sure when such a thing had happened. Zeph was quiet and contemplative for a moment before he continued. "If only I could convince you to quit giving out discounts..."

Alfyn took a step back as his hands came up defensively. "Aw, c'mon," he said gently. He was used to having this conversation with Zeph for better or worse. "The poor gal has enough trouble looking after old Alek. I can't very well take what little she has."

Zeph walked towards Alfyn and started to laugh, that muted brightness coming back in its full splendor. "I'm just teasing," he assured his friend. "You know that's what I like about you. If the villagers are healthy and happy, that's more than good enough for me."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Alfyn agreed with a nod and a chuckle of his own.

"We may be new to this, but between the two of us, this village is in good hands," Zeph continued, his eyes shining as he looked out at the horizon and all of the watery trees that lined the Riverlands beyond the confines of Clearbrook and its graveyard.

"Sure is," Alfyn said. "Plagues? Epidemics? Bring your worst!" He reached into his satchel as a way of contributing to the image of fearlessness further.

Zeph laughed once again before his expression sobered. "I'm counting on you, Alf. We all are. Who'd have thought that little troublemaker would turn out to be a top-notch apothecary, eh?" he asked, nudging Alfyn in the side with his elbow.

Alfyn snorted before dropping his natural country accent for something that he assumed to be prim and proper-not that he would know for sure given that he had spent his entire life in the small towns of the Riverlands. "We can't all be born with a silver pestle in hand, Master Zeph," he declared. The two laughed briefly, but the silence came down heavy onto them not long afterwards.

Zeph looked in the direction of the nearby grave, realizing what Alfyn had been doing prior to his arrival. Alfyn only ever seemed to come down to the cemetery for one reason, but the confirmation still pushed Zeph in the direction of sentimental. "Your mother would be proud," he murmured, the words a sincere promise that neither one of them would ever dream of defying even in their darkest hour.

Alfyn's smile had grown smaller, but it was still present as he glanced down to the writing on the gravestone at his feet. "Maybe..." he said softly, uncertain as to how else he was meant to respond for the time being.

Neither one of them said anything for a long time, just choosing to stare down at the gravestone instead. When the silence was broken though, it was because Zeph took a step back in the direction of the rest of the town. "Anyway... I should get back to Nina," Zeph told him. That was the official excuse, but anyone at all familiar with their dynamic would know that Zeph was just trying to give Alfyn a bit of privacy with his own thoughts. Nobody would have expected Alfyn to be the sentimental and somber type beneath his exterior of bright smiles and guarantees of sunshine, but Zeph knew him better than that, and Alfyn appreciated it more than words could ever hope to articulate.

Alfyn scoffed and shook his head. "Yeah, beat it. Head on home, big brother," he instructed his friend. The sentiment of Zeph's words was understood clear as could be, and Alfyn resisted the urge to glance back in the direction of the grave that marked his mother's final resting place. Nina was Zeph's everything the same way that Elena and Alfyn had been one another's primary tether to cling to for so many years. It was bittersweet that tragedy had visited Clearbrook in such a way after all that they had survived-including the brushes with fear that came with the war that always barely seemed to miss their little home-but there was no way to change it. After all, that was the past, and this was the present.

Zeph seemed to know that the present moment mattered as well, and he began his retreat back to Clearbrook. He didn't even manage to get five steps away when he stopped, leaving both him and Alfyn facing opposite directions in favor of their differing endeavors. "Hey, Alfyn?" Zeph asked, his voice so soft that it seemed less like a question and more like a desperate prayer. "I know you better than anyone, so be honest... You're keeping something from me, aren't you?"

Alfyn wished that he could restrict the way that his shoulders went tight with tension at those words. Of course Zeph would be able to pick him apart the way that no other person could. After all, he and Zeph had been friends for as long as either one of them could remember. Their youths had been spent together, stumbling through the grasses of Clearbrook with symmetrical laughs on their lips. If anyone was going to be able to pull apart the mask that Alfyn had constructed over the years, it was going to be Zeph.

Alfyn was silent, and his lack of a response was more than enough of a response for Zeph. "I'm right, aren't I? Alf, the truth is-" he began to say, his voice starting to edge on confrontational as it rose in volume subtly.

"Master Zeph!"

Unfortunately for Zeph (and perhaps luckily for Alfyn), the end of the sentence never arrived. Both of them were left to turn around in shock as a figure ran up the stone stairs to the entrance of the cemetery. It was one of the villagers of Clearbrook, someone that both Alfyn and Zeph were loosely acquainted with due to their years of occupancy in the town. There was panic written across the man's face, and Alfyn felt his stomach start to drop, knowing that this was the precursor to dreadful news.

"Master Zeph, you must come quickly!" the man cried out. "It's... It's your sister!" He ran back down the stairs after the fact, leaving Zeph and Alfyn to trail in his path.

The dash back to Zeph and Nina's house was a blur to Alfyn, as if the world existed on the other side of a wall of water that Alfyn had no way of penetrating. The villager left them behind as soon as they arrived at the home in question, and Zeph dashed to the side of his sister, his hands grasped tightly into fists.

Nina was clearly Zeph's younger sister, and their resemblance was as clear as day. Her hair was the same brown that his was, and her dark eyes had fallen shut despite their normal relevance to Zeph's appearance. Nina's breathing was labored, her skin having lost its lively shine under the influence of whatever it was that had hurt her in the first place. She was sound asleep, but everything about her seemed tense regardless, as if she was on the verge of falling apart if someone even dared to look at her in the wrong way.

Zeph was deadly silent as he looked down at Nina. His eyes were locked on her arm, and when he spoke, his voice was shaky and difficult to make out. "These look like bite marks," he remarked to no one in particular. "Alfyn, could you take a look as well?"

"You got it, buddy," Alfyn told him, doing his best to keep his voice as even as possible to ensure that Zeph didn't spiral into further bouts of panic. Zeph was barely keeping himself together as it was, and the last thing Alfyn wanted to do was contribute to such terrors. He crossed the room and looked down at Nina, examining everything that he thought could be of note before speaking and glancing to Zeph. "She's fallen into a deep trance. This is worse than we thought."

"Indeed..." Zeph murmured, his voice haggard and empty. "Nina's the only family I have. If I lost her, I'd..." He lapsed into a petrified silence, too afraid of the possibility to even voice it. Alfyn remained thoughtful and quiet beside him.

"I wish she could tell us what happened..." Alfyn whispered absentmindedly even though he knew that such a possibility was not meant to be. Nina wasn't going to be rousing from her slumber anytime soon. He could see that clearly, and he knew that Zeph could too.

"It's safe to say she was bitten by something poisonous, but what? Without knowing the nature of the poison..." Zeph trailed off once again, staring down at the bite marks on Nina's arm. His eyes screamed that he yearned for nothing more than for the holes to close and Nina to sit up with a smile on her face as if nothing had happened in the first place. But such was a vain hope, and he knew it, prompting his expression to slip into something on the edge of grief.

"Yeah, and the wrong medicine could make things worse, and quick," Alfyn replied. He picked up Nina's wrist carefully, examining her for any traces that could lead to the perpetrator of such a horrendous act.

Zeph was unable to keep himself together, and he let out a cry of anguish as tears started to properly form in his eyes. He had been trying to keep his grief hidden, but there was only so much pressure that he could take. "Damn it all! What foul beast did this to Nina?!" he cried out.

Alfyn shook his head, ignoring the panicked pounding in his chest to focus on the situation at hand. Zeph was panicking and spiraling out of his normal state of mind, so it fell to Alfyn to remain calm and composed. "Let me ask around. Maybe someone saw something," he suggested. Zeph nodded vacantly, and Alfyn set Nina's arm down before walking to the door. He offered a small smile, never to break the creed of the apothecary as long as there was an audience. "She'll be alright. I promise."

As the door to the house tapped shut behind Alfyn, he let out a small sigh. He wanted nothing more than to stay by Zeph's side the whole way through, but he knew that there were other matters that required his attention first. He had to gather the necessary information about what happened to Nina. Somebody around the village had to know something, and it was up to Alfyn to figure out what it was.

It didn't take long for Alfyn to find a figure of note. He could see a small girl standing on the edge of the riverbank, looking out over the waterway that ran past Clearbrook. He recognized her as Lily, a close friend of Nina's and another child within the town. She was as good a place to start as any, and he approached her carefully.

"Hey there, Lily," Alfyn said conversationally, doing what he could to seem as open and approachable as possible. Lily turned to face him with a jump, her eyes wide. She looked less like a playful little girl and more like a caged animal. In other words, she was certainly hiding something. "I have to ask... Do you know anything about what happened to Nina? I see you two playing around the village a lot."

Lily shook her head frantically. "I-I don't... I don't know anything!" she cried out, her voice much too loud. She was desperately trying to convince Alfyn that this was the truth, but beyond that, she was trying to deceive herself as well.

"She came back home with bite marks on her arm," Alfyn pressed. "You two often find yourselves going on adventures outside the village, don't you? Would your little quests have anything to do with what happened?"

When Lily once again shook her head, Alfyn crouched down to her level to try and seem as relatable and kind as he could. He liked to think that he was somewhat good with kids, and the truth behind Nina's injury was riding on him to figure out the final piece to this puzzle. "Come on now, Lily," he began. "The bite marks on Nina's leg... Are you sure you don't know where they came from?" He was once again met with silence from the young girl. "I want to help your friend, but I'm an apothecary, not a miracle worker. If I don't know what bit her, there ain't nothing I can do. You wanna help her too, right? So just tell me... Please?"

Lily nodded slowly. "Nina wanted to pick waterblooms for her brother..." she said softly, her voice still shaky and uncertain. "I wasn't so sure about it, but I went with her to that cave..." She sniffled, trying to hold back tears. "And then... This giant snake came out of the bushes and... And..." She rubbed frantically at her eyes with the heel of her hand, but holding back her tears was a fruitless effort.

Now we're getting somewhere. Alfyn rose to his full height, feeling anxiety and adrenaline start to mix into something dreadful at the pit of his stomach. "What kind of snake? Was it black?" he asked, hearing how his voice sped up from panic. When Lily shook her head, Alfyn felt like he had been speared through the chest. "Don't tell me... Was it amber with blotches on its back?"

Lily nodded. "Y-Yes... How did you know?" she asked. She was still crying openly, but she had stopped trying to stop her tears, leaving streaks of inflamed scarlet running down either one of her cheeks.

"The Flame take me... A blotted viper!" Alfyn hissed under his breath. He had heard of the beasts before, and he was fully aware of how dangerous their poison was. He hadn't seen one before, and he had been hoping that he never would. The snakes were some of the nastiest creatures that lived in the Riverlands, and he wished that the damn creature had chosen any other target than a small and fragile little girl.

"I-I'm sorry... I know we're not supposed to go there," Lily said softly. "B-But Nina wanted it to be a surprise, so... So she told me to keep it a secret, and..." Her stammering stopped when she needed to rub at her face again.

Alfyn nodded to her. "Thanks, Lily. You've told me all I needed," he assured her. He stepped forward and placed one hand on her shoulder to calm her. "You were a brave girl to bring Nina back here. Don't you worry any more about that scary snake, you hear?" Lily nodded carefully, and Alfyn took a step back. He had to get back to Zeph and explain all that he had learned.

Zeph's expression had been nothing short of complete horror as Alfyn told the tale that Lily had weaved for him. "Good gods... A blotted viper?" Zeph asked, his eyes wide and his face pale. His fingers were intertwined with Nina's as he sat at her bedside.

"A nasty critter if there ever was one. This ain't good..." Alfyn told him, keeping his voice low. He wasn't sure why he was being so quiet, but he couldn't bring himself to be any louder.

"Time is of the essence," Zeph agreed firmly. "The poison is spreading through her veins as we speak. I must prepare an antidote with all haste. But I need to get my hands on the original venom. There's supposed to be a nest of vipers in the Cave of Rhiyo, yes?"

"Yeah, along with plenty of other nasties. Reckless ain't the half of it," Alfyn confirmed. He glanced down to Nina, and his heart clenched at the idea of Nina doing something so kind for her brother only to be hurt to such a degree.

"I know... But what choice do I have?" Zeph questioned. He looked to his sister as well, eyes torn in a thousand different directions. "I'll leave at once. Look after Nina for me." He pushed the chair backwards away from Nina's bedside after setting the girl's hand aside gently.

As Zeph was moving to the door, Alfyn took a step to intercept him. "Hold on, Zeph. You look after her. I'll go," he said. He took a step for the door, only stopping when he felt a hand clamp down around his wrist.

Zeph was the culprit as expected. "Alfyn, are you mad?!" he cried out, dropping his regular affectionate nickname for his companion. "I'm responsible for Nina! I won't let you risk your life like this!"

Alfyn shook his head, that same smile of his still spread firmly across his face. "Don't worry about me. Now go back to your sister's side," he told Zeph firmly.

Zeph almost exploded as Alfyn continued to walk towards the door of the small home. "I swear, have you taken leave of your-"

"Zeph... Where are you...?"

The soft sound of Nina's voice cut Zeph off, and he let out a gasp before racing back to her side. "Nina!" he yelped. Immediately, he slid himself back into his chair and moved towards her. "I'm here, Nina!"

"Will you... Hold my hand...?" Nina asked, her voice soft and shaky. Zeph nodded before complying, and Nina's eyes fell shut gently once again as soon as she realized that she was safe in the company of her brother.

Alfyn shook his head. "See, Zeph? She needs you," he told her. He started to walk towards the door, knowing that his sentiment about departure would be understood even without the need for words.

Zeph was quiet before he smiled sadly in Alfyn's direction. "Thanks, Alf. Come back safe, you hear?" he prompted, the nickname back in full swing as if nothing had happened between them to begin with. His eyes were desperate, and Alfyn knew what he was thinking without even needing to ask. I already lost Nina today, Zeph's eyes screamed. I can't lose lose you too.

Alfyn gave him one last smile before he was out the door. "Of course," he replied, and the silence of the room returned save for the fire crackling emptily in the hearth.

Once Alfyn was outside, he glanced around Clearbrook with a newfound sense of purpose. He knew what he had to do, and he didn't have much time to do it. Nina and Zeph were both counting on him, so he had to go towards the Cave of Rhiyo as soon as possible. There wasn't a moment to lose.

Going as he was though wouldn't help him in the slightest though. Alfyn needed something that could be used as a weapon beyond just the satchel hanging from one shoulder. He knew how to blend a few concoctions that could be used as replacements for small magical spells, but that was all that he was aware of offensively. However, Alfyn was used to utilizing an axe to cut trees for the sake of firewood. In fact, that was mostly where his toned figure had come from despite his lack of regular combat experience. If he was going to have to fight with anything, it was going to be an axe. Beyond that, the best thing to fight a snake with had to be an axe; if he moved fast enough, he would be able to cut a few of the critters in half with the blades of his weapon of choice.

Alfyn's gaze found the general store of Clearbrook, and his mind started to formulate a plan as to what was going to come next. He had to buy an axe, a few healing grapes and inspiriting plums, and spare materials for making concoctions that could heal and harm. The invasion of the Cave of Rhiyo wasn't going to be easy, and he had to be as ready as possible. There were herbs that could negate the effects of poison too, and he had to stock up on those as soon as possible.

There wasn't a moment to lose, and Alfyn knew that one truth above everything else that echoed through his adrenaline-filled mind. He couldn't tell if his senses had been dulled or sharpened as a result of his own panic, but he supposed that it didn't matter. Time was of the essence, and he had so much to get done that he couldn't spend time standing around and thinking.

Get an axe, stock up on supplies, go to the Cave of Rhiyo, get the venom, and make an antidote, Alfyn thought, treating the words as a mantra that refused to leave him behind. It sounded so simple when he phrased it that way, but he knew that it was going to be much easier said than done. So be it. Everyone is counting on me, and I'm not going to let them down.

"To hell with the blotted viper," Alfyn muttered under his breath, and then, he was off.

From the bottom of my heart, I did not realize how little dialogue Alfyn's first chapter had. Wow. It's got about ten minutes less than basically everybody else that has appeared up to this point. You know what that means? More time with the rest of the group! Since there's less in terms of plot and dialogue, the rest of the cast is going to get to bond with Alfyn and each other as we move into this sixth chunk of chapter one!

I really do like this chapter honestly. It's a nice breath of fresh air after everything that has happened up to this point (especially given Olberic and Primrose's story being right before this). This chapter also speaks for itself, so there's not much to say beyond what I've already stated.

I'll be back again soon with the next chunk of Alfyn's chapter one! Until then, I hope you all enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a nice day, everyone!

-Digital