Tale Fourteen, Joining the Ranks and a Man and his Wolf

"That's it, Alfyn! Block!"

The apothecary did just that, bringing up the blade of his new battle axe to deflect Olberic's incoming blow. It rang loudly off the head of the axe, sending a painful reverberation down Alfyn's arms. He gritted his teeth in pain and staggered slightly, but somehow managed to push back his teacher.

The warrior jumped back, out of the arc of Alfyn's swing. His weapons skills had come together well over these past few weeks, evident by the growing muscles Olberic had noticed every time his apprentice had removed his shirt when it became too hot for him. Olberic allowed Alfyn to remove his shirt during these spars, but it would mean more armor training later. The weary apothecary had come to accept it as part of the workload, so he took it in stride and relished in the opportunity to remove his sweat-stained garments.

For their part, they had been at this training for hours in one of Stonegard's public courtyards, earning a pair of spectators in the form of Cyrus and Tressa. The former had his notebook out, studiously writing in it as the pair fought. The latter had set up a stand near a cobblestone wall, beckoning all those near and passing by to examine her wears and make wagers on the sparring. Few took her up on the gambling, but some had tossed her a leaf or two, most betting on Olberic.

Once Cyrus had informed them of who the man was, the gamblers dispersed with their money, knowing not to bet against the Unbending Blade.

Alfyn collapsed to the ground, his body sprawled out dramatically. "Don't think I can go much longer there with that bigger axe, Olberic. Can't I go back to my woodcutter's axe? So much lighter, so easier..."

Olberic went over to their packs and started rummaging around his, chuckling as he did so. "You have already proven yourself more than skilled with one-handed axes, Alfyn, we need to make sure you can use both in battle."

"I still can't believe you expect me to carry both of those into a fight and wear armor! That just ain't fair!" Alfyn complained as he rolled over onto his back to watch the sky. "How does a guy do that?"

The warrior dug around in his pack briefly before finding the objects of his search. He stood from his spot and walked towards Alfyn. The apothecary noticed he carried two small wooden cups and a metal flask. As he sat down with Alfyn, Olberic handed him one of the cups.

"Well, it sometimes helps for a warrior to return to the reason they started their journey down this path in the first place."

Olberic poured a small amount of amber liquid into Alfyn's cup before doing the same with his own. Alfyn took a brief whiff of the liquid. Oak, likely a combination of the wood and the alcoholic beverage. It smelt stronger than most of the other drinks the Travelers had indulged in during their ventures across Orsterra. And yet, the rich, sweet scent outweighed the underlying smell of alcohol.

Alfyn couldn't help but smile.

"Cheers, Alfyn."

Olberic rose his cup to the apothecary. His apprentice followed suit and gingerly touched the rim of their containers together. Alfyn watched Olberic as he gently sipped his beverage. So, the apothecary did the same, allowing the whiskey to hit the back of his tongue. It struck his taste buds with a harsh sting, but only briefly, before the mellowness of the flavor created through fermentation in oaken barrels left a pleasant aftertaste.

Both warriors sighed contentedly and enjoyed a cool breeze that meandered through Stonegard.

"A special brew of whiskey that the barkeep in Cobbleston makes once a year for the Harvest Festival. I saved mine for special occasions, like this. Until the next year comes around." Olberic paused to take another sip. "So, Alfyn, what is your reason to tread down the path of the warrior? There has to be something pushing you forward, just as that man pushed you to pursue the profession of the apothecary."

Alfyn marinated on the idea for a moment after he took a long sip from his cup. He stared off into the distance thinking about his and Zeph's reasons for becoming apothecaries. He remembered how that man had helped him and his village so many years ago. How he had appeared in their time of need. The reason Alfyn became an apothecary was quite simple: to help people like that apothecary had and still was to this day.

Alfyn settled on that to start. "To help people, I think. It's kinda why I do anythin', really."

"It is why you became an apothecary, correct?" Olberic continued down this path, seeing the guide.

"Yes."

"Then is there something you cannot do as an apothecary that you feel you can do as a warrior to help people?"

"Yeah... er, no. Well, what I mean to say is, I think it can help us. The group."

"I see."

Olberic took a drink of his whiskey, prompting Alfyn to continue.

"After hearin' you and Cyrus and Therion talk about strategy not too long ago, I figured we could use another of you to back up... Philia," Alfyn stated hesitantly.

"Therefore you wish to protect the healer of our party?" Olberic rephrased.

"Yes."

"It's because he likes her!"

The singsong voice of Tressa rung from above them as she peeked over the edge of the cobblestone barrier that she and Cyrus occupied. Funnily enough, the scholar was doing the same and scribbling notes in his journal, likely recording the interaction because of Olberic. If he wasn't blubbering and trying to mask his quickly reddening face, Alfyn may have laughed at the idea of it all.

"W-what!? I-I really don't know whatcha mean there, Tress!" Alfyn stammered, standing up on his feet, sweat resuming its trail down the back of his neck.

Tressa grinned cheekily and snickered. "Sure ya don't, Alfyn!"

"I think I understand the situation, but it would seem we need Primrose here to help us navigate some of these conversations," Cyrus sighed, scratching his head with his quill, staining his black hair with his equally black ink. "My notes on this interaction would make more sense to me if I understood more about what Alfyn is saying. I understand it briefly, but I need more specifics."

"Oh, come on, Professor. Even I'm able to figure this one out."

"Professor, please tell me you haven't been writin' all this down," the apothecary pleaded hopefully, afraid of the answer.

"Of course, why would I not?"

"Please stop."

"This interaction involves Olberic and your reasoning for joining the ranks of the great lineage of the warriors of Hornburg. Therefore, I cannot stop this ethnography."

Cyrus returned to his notes and backed away from the edge of the cobblestone. He mumbled audibly to himself trying to fit the pieces of the conversation he had overheard together to make a coherent picture. Not long after, Tressa followed suit, giggling. What she had just heard would be great gossip for Primrose, or a pretty penny to Alfyn to keep the merchant quiet.

The apothecary sighed. "Ah, heck. Well, guess that cat's outta the bag..."

Olberic patted Alfyn on the shoulder, gaining his apprentice's attention. The man wore a smile that spoke of volumes of pride in the man he trained in his style of fighting.

"'Tis a noble purpose to wield your axe and wear the armor of a warrior, Alfyn. Keep that in your mind as you are fighting, it will make carrying your equipment all the easier. If Ophilia is the reason, then protect her at all costs. Ensure that she has the time to cast her spells and work her magic."

"Yeah, maybe," Alfyn replied, his spirits starting to rise. "But I think there's more to it than just that."

The warrior looked amused now. "Oh?"

"I... I remember overhearin' a conversation between the ladies about what they want most in a man. Primrose started it off, no surprise. H'aanit said she wanted a man that's strong. Tressa talked about money. And Philia," the apothecary paused. "She said somethin' about a man bein' broad and gentle and able to wield a sword. I think I can do the first two things if I put my mind to it, but the last one I needed to learn. Maybe that's part of the reason I came to ya, Olberic."

Olberic listened to Alfyn intently and then thought on his apprentice's words, nodding as the seconds ticked by. One final nod and his smile returned as he raised his cup, gesturing for Alfyn to meet his in the air.

"Alfyn, I do believe that both of those are still just reasons, nonetheless. You have something you wish to protect. Whether that be an ideal, a country, or the woman you love does not make your reasoning any less noble. As a warrior, you must put your body on the line to protect that which you hold dear in your heart. Flowery words, but true."

Alfyn watched his teacher in awe as he rose his glass. "Wow, those're really some flowery words, but I'll be damned if they don't make me feel any better. Where'd you hear 'em?"

The pair clinked their cups together and finished off the last of their whiskey before standing up. This time Olberic reached for two dulled swords that the Travelers held onto for combat practice. He tossed one to Alfyn who caught it by the hilt without a problem.

"From... a comrade of mine, so long ago," Olberic stated wistfully. "But let's not focus on the past. For now, we start transitioning from axe to sword. I hope you are ready."

Feeling his inner fire growing, Alfyn nodded his head excitedly. Whether that burst of energy came from his purpose for fighting, the whiskey, or a little of both, he didn't know. But he decided it didn't matter. He would give this training his all either way.

His teacher paused briefly, seemingly battling with a thought in his head. Deciding to voice it, he asked Alfyn, "Did... did H'aanit perchance state how strong this man had to be?"

They could hear Tressa guffawing from behind the cobblestone wall.

H'aanit sneezed out of the blue – and at no better time, too. She and her party had bested the Lord of the Forest. If this fit had assailed her during their battle, then she could've put her friends in danger.

She sniffled and noticed Linde watching her carefully. Her hand found its way to the big cat's head, scratching it soothingly. "I am alright, Linde. Someone muste hath spoken of me, it seemeth."

The huntress's gaze turned to the stone statue in the middle of the forest clearing and Hagen, who laid diligently at its feet. Her master stood frozen in time, turned into stone by the Redeye he had sought to slay. A dull sadness grew in H'aanit's heart, one mirrored by her companions, both animal and human.

"Master... I hath failed thou," H'aanit lamented sadly as she knelt before her petrified mentor, Z'aanta.

For their part, Ophilia, Primrose, and Therion stayed to the side, giving the huntress a moment. They watched quietly: Ophilia with sadness in her eyes; Primrose a sense of pity for the poor girl; and Therion a front that portrayed a lack of interest. Seconds passed into minutes. As the sun started creeping further and further towards the horizon, leaving the forest darker and darker, Therion spoke up amongst the trio.

"We need to start moving soon before it gets colder than the Frostlands."

Despite his gruff exterior he shuddered, his recent memory about his experience there resurfacing. The thief jumped off the boulder he sat on. Ophilia continued to watch H'aanit, however. In turn, Primrose watched Ophilia.

"Should we not give the dear a moment longer?" Primrose asked, coming up to the cleric but keeping her eyes on Therion.

"If you want to be left out here for the beasties, then be my guest." Despite his words, Therion's sluggish movements and a subtle tilt of his head purposefully gave away the thief's intentions. "In fact, Twinkle Toes, let's say you and I go scout ahead a bit."

Now the dancer had caught on to this plan. She smirked. "A good idea. Ophilia?"

Speaking her name caught the cleric's attention and startled her. "Y-yes?"

"Can you make sure H'aanit is not injured? We may need to start moving soon," Primrose suggested softly. Her hand moved to the small of Ophilia's back to give a slight nudge towards the huntress.

Ophilia nodded hesitantly. "O-okay."

Receiving that small amount of encouragement, Ophilia took a short breath and walked over to H'aanit, Linde, and Hagen.

Primrose came up to Therion, ready to follow him. "You aren't fooling anyone, my dear."

Therion shrugged. "Fooling anyone about what?"

"You secretly have a heart of gold."

She strolled on by the thief, but not before putting her hand on his shoulder and purring softly in his ear, "Must be that thief's code you hold onto."

Then, she sauntered on by, swaying her hips as a dancer would do as they walked away from their prey. It was a fun game they played.

Despite him pulling his scarf up to better cover his face and making a point not to turn around just yet, Therion huffed. He mentally counted down from five before turning to join Primrose.

A fun game indeed.

The clearing now empty, save Ophilia, H'aanit, and her two animal companions, the cleric knelt down next to the huntress. Her hand absentmindedly found its way to Hagen's head, stroking it gently. They stayed there quietly for a few more moments before H'aanit spoke.

"'Tis not the first time I have seenen Master liken this," she admitted, offhandedly continuing to pet Linde.

Ophilia stayed silent and waited for a few moments before placing her hand on her friend's back, urging the huntress to continue.

H'aanit released a long-held breath. "As hunters and huntresses, we facen many perils in the Darkwood: beasts of fathomless size, creatures of grande beauty. Yet many, or all, art dangerous in some way. One day, while Master wast training me I found Linde as a cub, and I thought not all beast couldst been so dangerous."

The huntress's hand paused in petting the leopard before she nudged her hand to continue. H'aanit left her mind and proceeded with telling her story.

"Only a moment later, as we weren leaving the Wood, a beast unliken any I hath seenen before that day emerged not far from where we found Linde. I wouldst later find out that it hadth been hunting her. 'Twas a monstrous animal, one easily twice Hagen's size and bearing a similar likeness to a wolf. But green liquid dripped from its mouth. A venomous creature.

"To maken a long battle short, Master and Hagen fought the creature. Of course, they weren victorious, but not at a cost. Master had suffered a deep wound to the arm that heldeth his bow. I wast worried from the start, but he assured me he wouldst make it. So, we left for S'warkii and arrived just before twilight. At the border of the village, Master collapsed onto Hagen's back. I wast fraught with worry, but Hagen looked at me, nodded his head, and carried Master to the local apothecary."

Ophilia subconsciously gave the wolf a few gentle pats as he watched his master like a guard. Truly, Hagen would care for this man much as this man had cared for him, or so the cleric assumed. They seemed to have an inseparable bond.

"Over the next days, I wouldst visit Master. His wound hadth not healed and only seemed to be worsening. The venom had overtaken him and he hadth fallen into a deep slumber, plagued by an ever-warming fever. The apothecary did all he couldth and Hagen stayed by Master, watching over him, licking his hand whenever it twitched. I wouldst not realizen the importance of such an action until years later.

"Then, one day, I comen in and Master is sitting up, appearing as healthy as he hadth before, drinking a mug of ale and eating a plate of bear. Hagen, for his part, wast also eating his own food. For a moment, I and Linde watched. A frustration slowly built up within my bosom. So, I did what many young ones would do: I ranneth towardst him and started hitting him, like a child throwing a tantrum. To be fair, I wast."

H'aanit and Ophilia chuckled softly at the story. Once finished, the huntress gazed fondly at her master's petrified state, a small smile still on her face.

"Recounting that story hath given me hope, Ophilia. I thanken thee for listening."

"Of course, H'aanit. You are a friend and friends help each other, even if they are only there to listen," the cleric recited as she removed her hand from H'aanit's back and stood up. "I believe your master is stronger than most men and can withstand Redeye's petrification. The only thing that I worry about is who will watch him? After all, we are leaving to search for answers and the Redeye itself, yes?"

H'aanit rose from her spot, Linde following her, and a determination set within them. Hagen stayed put, lying on the forest floor and continuing to eye his master and friend, watching for any change in the statue that was Z'aanta. The huntress watched the wolf only for the briefest of moments before turning to Ophilia and gesturing to leave the clearing.

"We haven work to do, my friends. There must been a secret to curing Master and finding the Redeye. I believen I know of such a place. Come, we shall meeten the others and discussen our plans. Letten us be off, for Master ist in good hands. Or, better yet, paws."

The trio walked away from the clearing. H'aanit turned one last time to look over her shoulder, brushing away some strands of red hair from her face. She saw that Hagen had risen from his spot and had found his way to his master. Much like many years ago, the wolf licked his master's hand, hoping to see it twitch. And, if H'aanit's eyes hadn't fooled her, she swore she saw the statue's fingers move the slightest bit.

Her look of awe changed into one of pride.

"I expecten to find thee drinking ales together when I returnen, Master and Hagen. Fools, both of them," she stated fondly to the clearing.

Hagen's ears perked up at her voice and he turned towards the forest to see her leave before he heard a breaking branch within the trees. He took off to catch whatever prey awaited him. After all, he would be in for a long tour of guard duty watching his master. Besides, the wolf wanted to have some bear waiting for him when he shook away the stone rooting him in place.

Hardships are a natural part of life that help people grow and become the person they are meant to become.

These hardships can be sought out so that one can grow in strength – whether that be physical strength, mental strength, or one of strength's myriad of forms.

Other hardships are thrust upon a person, wanting to break their spirit through the force with which they are placed upon their shoulders.

Whatever these hardships may be, however they may come, any one person has the fortitude to face and conquer them, growing all the while.

And sometimes, if one is lucky, they will have people in their life willing to help them push through these hardships...