Tale Two, Cyrus
Admittedly, Cyrus Albright had trouble interacting with those of the fairer sex. That could be discerned from a simple conversation with the young scholar. However, it didn't come across as rude or indecent in anyway; instead, it was the fact that he didn't know when his flattery started to cross the line, turning from simple complements to flirting. Yet it seemed Cyrus never noticed such small trivialities, instead saying as he thought and focusing on his studies. This caused him no shortage of issues with his students. Which is what brought him to where he was now: at the local tavern in Atlasdam, enjoying a chilled glass of port, on temporary sabbatical from the university.
In the end, it all worked out, allowing Cyrus to conduct his own field research around the continent of Orsterra. Even more convenient was the appearance of his newest travel companion who helped to track down and retrieve a stolen tome from the university archives. Using their magic together, Cyrus found he and Ophilia were quite the dynamic duo.
"You are as skilled as you are beautiful," Cyrus had commented in the catacombs, receiving a blush from the sister in turn.
After having seen the professor's interactions with his student, Therese, as they left, Ophilia had deduced that was simply his analytical mind not understanding the emotional impact of his words. It was then, as they left to the tavern to celebrate their victory, that she had heavily sighed, shaking her head.
"Not a flirt, just unaware of his words," she had mumbled.
Now, they were both enjoying a glass of port favored by Cyrus, who chilled his with his ice magic, while Ophilia was happy to enjoy the drink at room temperature.
"Tell me about yourself, Miss Ophilia. I do wish to know about my traveling companion before we depart to more fruitful pastures," Cyrus began as he took a sip of his wine. "From Flamesgrace, yes? Must be a terribly cold place."
The sister smiled softly. "Indeed, but we have Aelfric's Flame to keep us warm. It is quite convenient, but also warms weary souls, which is why I am on this pilgrimage. After all, Flamesgrace isn't the only sanctuary of the faithful."
"Of course, my dear. I have always found the power of the pantheon fascinating. Though, I'll admit, my scholarly pursuits lean towards history's mysteries and matters of the arcane, and… what's so funny?"
Trying to hide her chuckling behind her hand, Ophilia found she was caught, tickled by some of Cyrus' words. "Oh, it's nothing, Professor Albright. It's just that you rhymed history and mystery. Tickled me a little bit."
The scholar thought on his phrase for a moment, smiling as he realized his word play. "Huh, it would seem so. I'm a poet and I didn't even realize."
"Um, but you missed…"
"Hm?"
"Nothing, professor. Nothing at all," Ophilia said, biting back her words.
He really is unaware of his words sometimes, she thought humorously.
Cyrus chuckled. Not expecting that reaction, Ophilia wondered off-handedly if he could read minds, as well, before giving him a questioning glance.
The scholar swirled the contents of his glass, allowing the aromatic properties of the port to become enhanced. For a moment, he hummed thoughtfully, for once thinking on his words. It was something that the cleric believed she would see little of, so she patiently waited for Cyrus to speak, lest she interrupt the one chance she might see him take his time thinking. Moments passed before he spoke, the silence between them oddly comforting, even though they had just met earlier that day.
"It has been quite some time since I have found myself in such company, Ophilia," Cyrus finally commented. "I must admit, it is a breath of fresh air. Few I can call companions, I hope that along our journey we can call ourselves such."
With that, the scholar rose his glass in the air. "To new ventures across Orsterra, may they prove as intriguing as they are daunting."
Ophilia smiled, clinking her own glass against his. "To new ventures!"
They drank from their port heartily, before setting their drinks down on the table and sighing happily. A warmth flowed through them, a combination of their beverages and the bond they now shared.
"It's funny," Ophilia commented, circling the rim of her glass with her finger, as she was wont to do. "Before I left Flamesgrace, I stopped at the local tavern there, as well. I often do not partake in such habits, but after the realization of the burden bestowed upon my shoulders caught up with me, I needed something to calm me."
Cyrus listened intently, folding his hands under his chin and gazing at his fellow traveler with intrigued eyes.
Wistfully, the cleric stared into her drink. "There, I met a man named Teller. He provided comforting words when I did not have the strength to conjure them up myself. Then, though my doubts are still there, he eased them, taking some of the pressure of my pilgrimage away from me with him, as we are now doing for each other." She gestured between herself and the scholar, recreating their ties. "But I digress. He told me that he was a bard and that there would be seven other companions awaiting my presence to venture forth themselves on their own journeys; that they would help me as I would help them. After fearing that I would have to face my pilgrimage alone, hearing those words aided me more than I would know. I do not know how he foretold this, but it would seem that what he had said is coming true, wouldn't you think?"
Ophilia's glance drifted up to Cyrus to see him now doing as she had only moments ago and focusing on his drink.
He hummed an affirmative noise before eyeing her cryptically, much like he did with those he scrutinized earlier in the day. Much like them, Ophilia felt slightly unnerved by the action. Meaning to speak, he shook his head and took a drink of his wine, replacing his façade with a charming grin.
"I am sorry, my dear, sometimes I lose control of myself when I have so many questions about a certain topic. Almost interrogated you much like the suspects," the scholar apologized, realizing where his train of thought would take him. Being with a new traveling companion, he did not want to say or act untoward to her. Cyrus continued, "My curiosity was piqued, for you see, I met such a man only a week prior. A burly man? Had a theatrical entrance, like jumping through a window?"
"He jumped through a window!?" Ophilia questioned in shock.
Cyrus chuckled in return. "Yes, Teller did say it was for practical reasons, though. Claimed it was…"
"…to make an entrance," Ophilia finished.
"So, you have met the man?"
"Yes, and his name was Teller, as well. Did he speak directly to you?"
Licking his lips, the scholar partook in his drink once more before continuing his tale. "Not necessarily, no. He came to tell stories, buying people drinks, and seemingly on friendly terms with the barkeep. I think that's what saved him the wrath of the staff, in all honesty. His tales were of times past; of great Hornburg and its fall so many years ago – funny thing, it influenced my lectures. He spoke of an alchemist he sojourned with for some time, a man who could cure any ailment, natural or otherwise. Then, he became more personal with his life, talking of a skilled hunter he drank under the table and beat in dice. It was quite the evening, and I found myself rooted by his charismatic way of storytelling. As were the other patrons, for he made back all he spent, and more, in that night.
"Yet, it was when he was about to leave that we made eye contact. In that moment, I felt like I was the one being questioned. By a simple glance." Cyrus breathed, finishing his tale, but not before adding, "He is no mere bard, I can tell you this."
Ophilia, feeling her turn to tell her own side of the story, took a drink of her own port. "It would seem so. As I said, he predicted that I would meet seven companions along my pilgrimage who would change my life. Though what will happen remains to be seen, I believe his prediction may be coming to pass. After all, I have met you."
"Why, thank you for believing it was I who he spoke of," Cyrus rose his glass momentarily to Ophilia. "Yet the mystery still remains: who is this man? What is his craft? Is it mystical or mundane?" The scholar chuckled before finishing his wine. "It would seem I have found yet another mystery to solve while on this journey."
The cleric chuckled softly. "Yes, the mystery of the bard."
"Ah, yes! The Mystery of the Bard is what we shall call it. Then I believe we need to find our clues, wouldn't you agree, my dear."
"Indeed, Professor Albright."
The traveling companions could not help but laugh outright from the turn their conversation had took. Much of the possible awkwardness that comes with a new meeting was vanished instantly by the bond they created. Such a feeling, to connect with someone so easily on some level, was a foreign concept to the cleric and scholar. Neither knew how best to convey what they felt, so they simply laughed until their stomachs hurt.
Calming down, Ophilia commented offhandedly. "My, if you hadn't become a professor, you could have well passed for a detective." The wine, it would seem, was stronger than the cleric expected, causing her to act out of character. She stood proudly on her chair, proclaiming to the tavern, "Detective Albright: the doer of good, fighter of shadows, discoverer of mysteries, and keenest intellect in all of Atlasdam!"
Feeling the effects of the port and despite his sides hurting, Cyrus guffawed. "Of course! Yes, yes, my dear! But nay, not just Atlasdam; I daresay all of Orsterra!" At this point, the scholar joined his companion. "No case unsolvable, no duty too difficult, no place for ne'er-do-wells to hide, for my fire will find them!"
Carried away by his acting, Cyrus actually lit a ball of fire and began tossing it around in his hands, all the while laughing. From an outsider's perspective, there were two views: one, that both Cyrus and Ophilia were mad, and would burn the tavern to the ground; two, those who knew the professor also knew that, after a strong port, he would get swept away in his speeches. Albeit, this seemed to be the most creative one so far. Those costumers received no small amount of amusement from the scene, some even cheering the self-titled "detective's" name.
"Detective Albright! Detective Albright! Detective Albright!"
With one last cheer, the two traveling companions sat back in their seats. Cyrus waved at the patrons, while Ophilia's cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her mind caught up with how she had just acted.
"I… I believe this port was quite strong, Professor Albright," Ophilia voiced her concerns meekly, reeling from her embarrassment.
"You are undoubtedly correct my dear. Usually I have half a glass, but it seemed that such an occasion needed a full glass," the scholar admitted. "If we are done with our drinks, it is best we retire for the night. We have a long journey starting tomorrow, and our first clue to this mystery is to find the remaining six companions, would you not agree?"
The cleric joined him while he produced enough leaves to pay for their drinks. Nodding her thanks, Ophilia concurred. "Agreed. Where should we head off to first, then?"
As they exited the tavern, Cyrus thought on his companion's question for a moment. "Should we head northeast? No, that would be far too dangerous with just the two of us. Perhaps through the Frostlands? But then, we would be backtracking… No, no, we must…"
Suddenly a strong breeze blew in from the south. With it came the faint whiff of the ocean. Splashing waves, gulls crying, beaches with warm sand, the sudden gust imprinted this vision in Ophilia's mind. With a smile, she leaned on her staff, turning the direction from where the wind had come from.
"We travel to the Coastlands."
Cyrus joined her, staring off towards where they would inevitably meet the sea. He grinned. "A most excellent decision, Miss Ophilia."
The cleric turned to her partner. "Please, just Ophilia."
Without waiting for his response, the young woman left towards the inn to procure rooms for her and the professor.
Chuckling, Cyrus followed, saying, "Then I will do just that."
Departing his towers of books for the field, Cyrus has joined the young cleric, Ophilia.
Though traveling for different reasons, the duo had already worked towards a beneficial partnership that would progress forward.
Their words mingled in with the tavern of Atlasdam, now joining those that had bled into the establishment's wooden walls over numerous years.
With those words said, they move forward towards the Coastlands, wondering at what their bond with Teller would bring in time…