Tale Six, Alfyn
A loud gasp echoed throughout the tavern. Sounding satisfied, albeit startling, to the group of three traveling companions sitting in the Clearbrook establishment located close to the border of the Riverlands. Locals chuckled at the young blond man's seemingly insatiable drinking before turning back to their own business.
Wiping his mouth of the excess suds hanging on his lips, Alfyn Greengrass's brown eyes reflected the amber liquid he had just ingested, glistening lightly like a mug of mead. Before he could even raise his hand to ask for another drink, the barkeep already replaced his empty mug with one filled graciously to the brim. This earned a joyful laugh from the apothecary that had just joined Ophilia's group of wayward adventurers.
And she had to admit, Alfyn's jovial nature was infectious. Before she could stop herself, the cleric found laughter coming easily to her.
Taking a hearty swig, but saving most of his mead, Alfyn smiled brilliantly at his new companion. "Musta done something real funny to get that response!"
"Not at all, Alfyn. It's just your nature that makes it easy to be so open and joyous," Ophilia commented. Without even hesitating, she took a drink of her own mug, slowly being drawn into the actions and conversations of the easygoing, good-natured apothecary.
"Ophilia is right. Your happiness is infectious. With your profession, it must do wonders for your patients," Primrose stated with a glint of something in her eyes. "How you do it, I am unsure."
"Simple, Miss Primrose: just hafta to remember why you're helping those folks, and the rest comes easy," Alfyn replied nonchalantly, before rubbing his nose. "Plus, thinkin' 'bout a stiff drink at the end of the day helps."
"Ah, there's the greed seen in all men."
"What can I say? I'm an apothecary of simple tastes."
"It would seem so. Maybe it will rub off on a certain merchant we know."
Upon mentioning the youngest member of their group, the three turned their gaze to Tressa who was indulging in the honeyed beverage. Wired already from the sugar rush, the merchant's head swerved quickly from companion to companion, eyes questioning why they were staring at her. A sudsy moustache created by her drink's froth did not help her in shedding her child-like demeanor that she carried as the youngest member of the travelers. While Alfyn perpetuated mirth to those around him seemingly unnoticeably, Tressa's antics and innocent curiosity encouraged a certain humor that could be felt by anyone near her.
"Simple's good and all, Primrose, but nothing beats a treasure nestled deep in your heart!" Tressa replied with an energetic, assured tone.
Alfyn could only laugh. "That you're right, Tressa! Havin' that one thing you care about more than anything is key. Whether a real thing or something you believe in, that's what keeps us movin' forward, ain't it?"
"You know it!"
The two clinked their mugs together, creating a dulled sound replaced by the immediate gurgling accompanied with drinking mead. As it had only just recently, another loud gasp echoed throughout the tavern, this time joined by a higher-pitched as equally pleased gasp from Alfyn's merchant fellow.
"On that note," Tressa began, the effects of the mead starting to impact her slowly growing constitution "we need to get to know each other better! So, Alfyn, what's your greatest treasure?"
"Puttin' me in the spotlight there."
The apothecary brought his hand to his chin in thought, pondering on the sudden question studiously. He hummed patiently, waiting for an answer to come to him. When it did, Alfyn made a victorious sound and snapped his fingers.
"Got it! I'd say this bag right here."
From below the table, Alfyn produced his apothecary bag that he had received from his friend, Zeph, earlier that day. Even now, knowing that his childhood friend and fellow apothecary held his own bag with him, brought a sense of pride to Alfyn's heart. Though they were still in the same village, being on this journey already made them feel as if they were miles apart.
"That's Zeph's bag, isn't it?" Ophilia questioned.
"That it is. Only had it for a day, but I know it's already my most important possession," Alfyn confirmed, chuckling. "Heck, maybe it's even more important than my own bag. Who knows what he hid in here."
His eyes softened. "After my parents died, Zeph helped me a lot. When I almost died, we vowed to become apothecaries. Just like him, the man who saved me." Determination replaced his mild expression. "It's my turn to go into the world and help those that need it."
Ophilia stared at the young man in awe, impressed by his resolve to help those in need as long as it was in his power. Venturing out into the world like they were was no small task; to do so to help those he didn't know was even grander. An unknown tug at the cleric's heart prompted her to smile and admire the apothecary with a fondness she could not place a finger on.
"I think that's amazing. You truly care for those you can care for, I believe there is nothing more noble than such a cause," Ophilia complimented, cheeks turning a light shade of red, catching Primrose's eye. Before the dancer could read anymore into the sudden change in demeanor, the cleric took a drink of her mead.
Alfyn rubbed the back of his head, feeling a sensation he had felt numerous times before. "Ah geez… thanks, Ophilia. Means a lot. Just, um… careful when complimentin' me too much, okay?"
Even more curious about the sudden shift of the conversation, Tressa interrupted. "What'd ya mean by that?"
"It's nothin'," the apothecary chuckled uneasily. "I just get an… uneasy sensation sometimes when people compliment me too often."
"Okay...?" the merchant dragged out, the group a little perplexed at Alfyn's meaning behind his words. Choosing to forgo pressing the issues, Tressa pointed towards Primrose. "On to the next one. Primrose?"
"My treasure?" she questioned as she was brought out of watching her fellow companions.
"Uh-huh!"
"Oh, that's easy, my dear," Primrose cooed happily. From behind her she produced the dagger she often used in combat, placing it on the table triumphantly. "This is my sole treasure."
Her companions hovered their heads over the weapon, studying it. Curving from the hilt, a crescent blade promised a deadly encounter with any who faced this beautiful weapon. The handle itself was made of an exotic red wood that Tressa could not place, with guard and pommel made of pain-stakingly, hand-carved gold. Inscribed on the handle was the phrase 'Faith shall be my shield.' Without any further explanation, the three companions knew this was an exquisite treasure to behold.
"Wow! It's so beautiful! You know, in a stabby-stabby kind of way," Tressa remarked, earning a round of chuckles from the group. "What are the words on the handle?"
"That is House Azelhart's family motto. Faith shall be my shield," Primrose recited. "I live by those words to this day. For now, though," the dancer procured the dagger, tucking it away for the time being with a reassuring grin "I believe my family's history can wait."
Sensing that Primrose did not wish to talk about her past any longer, Tressa shrugged her shoulders. "That's okay, but I think your dagger is winning right now, Primrose."
"What do I get if I win?" she purred.
"Another drink!" the merchant replied with flourish.
"Oh, I do like the sound of that."
"Shucks, I coulda had another mead," Alfyn complained forlornly.
"Should have asked for the stakes, newcomer!" Tressa playfully replied. "But there's still a chance that our resident cleric will pull out a win from nowhere. Take it away, Ophilia!"
"M-me?" she responded off-guard. "I don't have much, to be honest. Most of my treasured possessions I left behind at the Church in Flamesgrace. Not much is allowed on my pilgrimage. But, if I had to say something I have with me is my treasure, it would be this."
Unclasping her hood, the cleric removed the garment, revealing her slender shoulders clothed by her robe. She placed the hood on her lap, taking the golden trinket that held the article of clothing together and placing it on the table. It was cast gold, less pure than the dagger Primrose had, yet more pure than what would normally be found in a market setting. Shaped much like a closed horse's hoof, it seemed a modest treasure to most eyes. Those who traveled with Ophilia, however, suspected it held a special place in her heart.
"It was the last gift my mother gave me, used to secure the cloak she sheltered me in when she left me to run in a snowy forest," Ophilia admitted, a solemn air clouding her presence. "Though it may not look like much, that brooch has sentimental value to me. I carry it with me wherever I go, thinking that my true parents are with me in spirit, protecting me."
She smiled forlornly. "It's a sad memory, but to think that my family is still with me as I journey on this pilgrimage brings me solace when I need it most."
Her companions were at a loss for words. Alfyn watched the cleric with wide eyes, unable to break the spell she put on him. On one hand, even though it was a sad memory she spoke of, the smile was a testament to her faith and strength. On the other, the smile made him want to protect her as best as he could, even if she believed she didn't need it – perhaps, Alfyn needed it, he was unsure. Whichever way he looked at, the apothecary couldn't help but think she deserved to smile all the time, through good times and bad.
While he was thinking to himself, Primrose stole a glance at the apothecary, noticing the similar red blush that encompassed Ophilia's cheeks only moments earlier. Smirking, the dancer knew what was happening here. Of course, she would not intervene, but she would watch as a spectator, eager to see where such an idea may lead to in the near future.
What possibilities could this little traipse produce? she thought with a giggle.
The ringing sound brought Tressa out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she exclaimed, "That's amazing, Ophilia! I think you win this round."
"What? Really?" the cleric replied unbelievingly. "Not Primrose's dagger?"
"My treasure may be as sentimental as yours, my dear, but the empathetic emotion it brings from you overshadows mine. After all, you shared your story of it, I did not," Primrose replied smoothly before finishing off her drink. "Besides, I believe I do not need another one."
"Oh. Well, I could use another one," Ophilia requested timidly. "It's so sweet, I couldn't help but finish mine quickly."
Snapping out of his own thoughts, Alfyn gladly offered, "Then why don't I buy you a drink? I could use another one myself!"
"You don't mind?"
"'Course not. 'Sides, Tressa never said who would buy the victor's drink."
"Hey, shouldn't I be buying…"
The merchant was cut off by a light nudge from the dancer. Earning a quick glance from Primrose, Tressa understood (partially) what she meant.
"I mean, if I get to save some leaves, all the better. Go ahead, Alfyn!"
"Thanks, Tressa. Come on, let's go get some more mead."
The apothecary and cleric stood from their seats, walking over to the bar to place their order. All the while, Primrose watched them keenly, a glint of interest in her eyes. From the way that Ophilia hid her laughter and Alfyn energetically talked, the dancer couldn't help but feel there was something there that the pair did not see.
"Say, why did you want Alfyn to buy the drink for Ophilia?" Tressa questioned. "I should've bought the winner a drink."
"Shh, my dear. You will see in due time," Primrose answered cryptically, still watching her companions unintentionally flirt with the other.
Following the dancer's eyes, the merchant vaguely understood her meaning. "Oh! You think…?"
"Did Ophilia ever mention if Teller said this would be a romantic tale?" Primrose interrupted once again.
Tressa made an uncertain sound and shrugged her shoulders before returning to her own drink.
"Then it may well be. Mayhaps we wait for them to return then, hm?" the dancer concluded, turning back to the merchant. "Besides, we did say we would wait for Cyrus and Olberic to return from their training-study session, wouldn't we?"
Tressa gladly answered, "Okay! Then we can talk between ourselves. There's so much I wanna ask you about the Sunlands!"
"And I you about the Coastlands."
The night lingered on slowly, allowing plenty of conversation to flow between the companions. Alfyn and Ophilia stayed firmly by the bar the rest of the night, enjoying the words exchanged between the other. Without want to leave, they spoke freely, unknowingly progressing the tale Teller had planned long beforehand.
Somewhere, the prolific bard smirked, sensing a bond stronger than most would ever have forming between a certain apothecary and cleric.
To look out for oneself is human; to care for others without want for anything in return is beyond that.
So did Ophilia realize that when she met Clearbrook's apothecary, Alfyn.
Mayhaps they would form a bond that would exceed beyond companionship, yet for now they simply were happy to continue Teller's tale.
Onwards they went, this group of adventurers, nearly complete in numbers, towards the Cliftlands to discover who would accompany them next.
Never would they guess the skilled, young man they would meet…