The path up to the cave where the bandits were staying was littered with rocks and ratkin. Luckily for the group, they functioned well as a unit, and Olberic felt like a natural extension of everything that Cyrus, Ophilia, and Tressa had already put together prior to his arrival in their lives. Olberic had explained his story to them as well, introducing himself as 'Berg', the hedge knight defending Cobbleston. He was in search of Philip, a young boy who had been taken hostage by the brigands when they invaded Cobbleston.

Cyrus was, to be quite honest, confident that there was more to this story than met the eye. Olberic fought with much more gusto and confidence than any hedge knight he knew. Olberic's skills were refined, but he remained humble despite this, certain of his actions but never allowing his power with a blade to push him into the territory of believing that he was immune to downfall. He was impressive, in other ways, but Cyrus was sure that there was more to Olberic than he had been told initially. The name 'Berg' fell uncomfortably from his tongue, and Cyrus was confident that it was a lie. He didn't know what the truth of the situation was, but he was sure that he would figure it out soon enough.

"I hope that we're able to get there in time..." Ophilia whispered. Ever since she had first appeared in Rippletide, her bleeding heart had become clear. She simply couldn't bring herself to turn her back on a person in pain, whether it be Tressa, the occupants of Rippletide, Olberic, or Philip. Her eyes seemed to shine with a special type of nobility whenever she assured the client of the hour that everything was going to be alright, and her gentle smile only allowed the point to hit closer to home. It didn't matter what the task was; if Ophilia though completing it was going to help people, she would follow through with it.

"I hope so as well," Olberic murmured under his breath, his voice notably tense and strained. His sword had become stained with the blood of ratkin over the course of their journey, but he barely seemed to mind, too focused on the task at hand to even give his foes a second glance. His determination was as endless as it was terrifying, and Cyrus would have been lying if he said that he didn't admire Olberic's dedication to their current course of action.

The group fell into a lapse of silence after that, but it wasn't long that they were bathed in quiet. A small rocky creature appeared out of the corner of Tressa's vision, and she turned towards it with a stab of her spear. From there, the magical barrage of attacks that came from Ophilia and Cyrus seemed to take care of the monster, and Olberic dealt the finishing blow without even batting an eyelash. He was moving again a moment later, and Cyrus spared a glance with Tressa, who still appeared to be rattled from the sudden battle, before moving on.

The sound of voices reached their ears soon afterwards. Olberic was quick to put his arm out so that the group would remain quiet. Cyrus recognized the heavy accents as being similar to the methods of speaking that he had found in the voices of the pirates of Rippletide. Tressa and Ophilia seemed to make the same connection, and it wasn't long before Tressa's expression had become twisted with bitterness as she reached for her bow, undoubtedly because she was raring up for another inevitable fight.

As soon as Tressa had primed her bow, Ophilia and Cyrus reached for their staffs. Olberic's hand rested on the pommel of his blade, and he began to walk towards the group of bandits. There were five of them, all bickering and laughing near a torch outside the cave's entrance. They were so caught up in themselves that they didn't even notice the arrival of Olberic and his companions for a few moments.

When one of the bandits did notice, he stepped forward with a lopsided grin that was twisted with cruelty at the edges. "Look who's come! Have you lost somethin', hedge knight?" he asked, his voice mocking. The rest of the brigands joined in on laughing with him a moment later.

"Move aside before I cut you in two," Olberic threatened, his voice as level and even as could be. His hand remained on the hilt of his blade, a clear promise that he would resort to violence if pushed the wrong way.

"Ye have courage, I'll give you that," the bandit remarked with a shake of his head. He seemed to notice the rest of the group after speaking those words, and he gestured to Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa with a wave of his hand that lacked any sense of care. "Just who are ye, anyway?"

"You'll step aside if you know what's good for you," Olberic told the brigand, his voice filled with the threat of violence once again.

"You're on our land now, hedge knight. We give the orders here," the bandit told him. His attempts at joking with Olberic had fallen flat, leaving his expression contorted with anger. Cyrus could tell by the shadows in the man's eyes that he was imagining all the ways that he could gut and torture this supposed hedge knight for daring to show signs of impertinence.

After that, the bandit sunk into a combat stance, and the rest of his brigand companions did much the same. "Ye have skill, but ye're a man like any other, and ye'll bleed as red," the brigand threatened, his axe coming away from its home at his hip in one swift motion. "Get 'em!"

That was all it took for the dam to break open, and the other four brigands suddenly rushed forward. Olberic led the charge, and he stabbed his blade into the shoulder of the bandit that dared to stray too close to him. From there, all it took was a low sweep with his sword as he knocked the man's legs out from beneath him. The bandit dropped his weapon, a casual spear, along the way. Olberic reached for the lance and stabbed it into the brigand's chest, his expression as passive as could be. He kept the lance in his left hand after the fact, and Cyrus could tell by the way that Olberic held himself that he held more than a bit of experience in terms of lances as well as swords.

The second of the bandits dared to stray too close to Tressa, and she jumped backwards with a small yelp. She sent an arrow firing into the man's shoulder from her bow, and the man dropped his axe to nurse his injury. Cyrus whispered under his breath and sent one hand pushing through the air towards his target. A bolt of fierce lightning slammed into the man's chest, and as the electric current tore through his body, he stopped moving. Cyrus spared a glance to Tressa, who nodded to him with utmost solemnity in response.

The truth of Cyrus' actions was left unspoken. He had cut Tressa off in the way that he had so that she didn't have to live with the weight of being forced to turn to killing others in order to save Philip. Tressa didn't say anything about it, so Cyrus didn't either. Instead, he simply turned towards Ophilia.

The cleric had her staff in her hands, and she slammed it over the head of one of the bandits. He stumbled backwards, and a moment later, Olberic appeared on the other side of the man. Olberic stabbed his sword into the brigand's stomach, prompting the bandit to roar in pain as he buckled towards the ground. From there, it was simply a matter of Ophilia bringing forth a light spell for the man to stop moving as his life ebbed away.

Tressa had her lance in hand as she launched herself towards the fourth out of the five bandits, and after a quick stab, she let out a wind spell that sent the man flying backwards. Cyrus flicked his wrist, and a barrage of icicles flew freely towards the bandit. The brigand was pinned in place, left to struggle with no way of escaping as Olberic launched himself forward and finished everything with a quick stab to the chest.

The only brigand left was the leader out of the bunch, and even though he was stronger than all of his comrades, it was clear that he was still rattled by the strength with which Cyrus and the rest of his party fought. His expression faltered briefly before he painted a smile back on his face and jumped forward with his axe glinting dangerously in the sunshine overhead. Ophilia sent a blast of light magic in his direction, sending him into a disoriented haze where he struggled to find his sense of balance once again. Tressa nocked an arrow on her bow and released it a moment later towards her target. His leg buckled from beneath him as the arrow made contact with his knee.

That was the last straw for him, it seemed, as Cyrus' hand began to gleam with red light. A large inferno of flames spread towards the bandit, and with two simple hits of fiery magic, the brigand let out a scream and stopped moving, left as nothing more than a husk on the ground outside the entrance to the cave.

The area fell silent for a long time after that, as if the members of the group were just trying to make sure that they were still safe. Cyrus allowed himself to tuck his staff away in his satchel once again, and Tressa returned her bow to her bag as well. Much to Cyrus' surprise, Olberic kept the spear from the brigand in his hand, and he figured that Olberic was set to be using it as a placeholder weapon until they were able to get back to Cobbleston to purchase a blade of finer quality. After all, they had been in such a rush to go off and find Philip that Olberic's proficiency with lances had been neglected up to that point.

"Let's go in," Olberic said a moment later as he returned his sword to its sheath. His lance remained at the ready in preparation for any battles that they were dragged into along the way. Cyrus nodded at Olberic, though his suspicions remained just as present as before regarding Olberic's true identity. There was more to this man than met the eye, and it was only a matter of time before the truth of the matter was brought to light, Cyrus was sure. Olberic was no simple hedge knight, and even Cyrus, someone who lacked experience with physical weapons, could see that much.

Ophilia was the one who took the first step into the cave, and the Ember began to shine more notably in the darkened atmosphere of the cave. Olberic was right behind her while Tressa trailed in his footsteps. This left Cyrus at the tail end of the traveling party, not that he particularly minded. It was somewhat dark at his part of the group because he was so far from Ophilia, so Cyrus whispered a fire spell under his breath and created a small flickering light in the palm of his hand. He wasn't strong enough with light magic to be trusted to summon it for illumination, so fire would have to do for the time being.

The cavern was much drier than the Caves of Maiya had been, and the ground was almost impossibly jagged under the influence of the rocks of the Highlands. A haphazard path had been carved among the stones, and because of how perilous the rest of the cave was in structure and layout, it was easy to assume that the bandits would be waiting at the end of the path. The entire cave was their domain, but they had to keep their treasures in one particular space far from the entrance to deter thieves from attempting to sneak inside and steal their wares.

The squeak of a creature dwelling within the cave seemed to echo throughout the space, but Olberic didn't bother hesitating. He swung his blade without a moment of thought, and the monster stopped in its attack immediately. His skill with a spear was clearly just as impressive as his affinity with a sword, and it left Cyrus awestruck and in admiration of this strange man of Cobbleston. Cyrus had never had much of a wish to learn how to use physical weapons, and the only reason for his affinity with a staff was because staves often came with abilities to augment magical prowess. Still, as he watched Olberic in motion, Cyrus couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the way of the blade would be for him after all. It certainly intrigued him enough to force him to consider it when Olberic fought in such a way that so easily earned the attention of all others.

It seemed as if the rest of the monsters in the cave understood that Olberic was not a person to be trifled with, and the group's journey through the brigands' den was surprisingly painless. Nobody dared to speak w rod, too afraid of setting off their human adversaries. After all, there might have been monsters on the path to the end of the space, but the ones that they were truly meant to fear were human at the end of the day.

However, shortly before the group could arrive at their destination, another monster appeared, and it brought with it a few of its brethren that held more strength than Cyrus would have expected. A battle broke out nearly immediately, and magic and weapons were brandished in preparation for the defensive clash to come. All the way through, Cyrus hoped that the young boy they were seeking, Philip, would be able to hold on for just a little bit longer. These bandits seemed somehow more ruthless than the pirates of Rippletide, and Cyrus could only pray to Alephan that they found Philip alive rather than as a corpse.

There were three bandits positioned at the entrance to the plateau of space at the back of the cave where much of the brigands' loot was kept. Philip stood between the trio of bandits and the rest of the group. He was unchained, but his ankle had been injured when he attempted to fight back during his abduction. He kept weight off his damaged foot and glared down the bandits that had him trapped within the cave. His training blade, the one that Olberic had given him to sharpen his skills, was discarded on the ground nearby. If he wanted to reach it, the bandits would apprehend him first, and Philip's survival instincts were honed enough to tell him that he would not survive if he rubbed them the wrong way due to his youth, inexperience, and injury.

There was one man who stood out from the rest though. He was notably muscular, and everything about him screamed that he was not one to be trifled with. His helmet had twin spikes that jutted out from either side of his head, and he crossed his arms as he looked down at Philip with something that resembled twisted curiosity. "Do tell me about this friend of yours. Knows how to fight, does he?" the man questioned.

"H-He sure does!" Philip cried out, trying desperately to sound more confident than he felt. In truth, his heart was slamming against his ribcage with unforgiving brutality. "He's stronger than all of you put together! You won't stand a chance!" At those words, the brigands in the cave all burst into laughter, making remarks about how Olberic couldn't possibly be as strong as Philip claimed. Even the guards to the hideout were cackling, and Philip felt his anger begin to boil over. "It's not a joke! Stop laughing!"

"Ye hear that, mates? This hedge knight's the strongest blade in the realm!" one of the bandits shouted, his voice dripping sarcasm as he jabbed his elbow into another brigand's side teasingly.

The brigand beside him started to cackle once again as if he had just heard the funniest joke known to man. "If he thinks he can best all of us, he's more madman than knight!" He wound up needing to throw his arm out onto his comrade's shoulder to keep himself steady as he gave into the full extent of his laughter.

Another bandit shook his head with a jaded and twisted smile. "This ain't a fairy tale, boy. Real knights don't piddle away their days in the company of swineherds," he told Philip. His words were overwhelmingly rough, clearly meant to break the young boy's spirit without even a scrap of hesitation.

"If he's a knight from the stories, a damsel in distress might serve as better bait. Reckon we should go back for the mum?" the first of the three bandits asked as he forced his friend to finally return to his full height with one lazy motion of his arm. Once again, the cave was filled with hearty laughter, and the sounds seemed to echo in a way that felt almost suffocating.

"S-Stop it! You won't be laughing when Sir Berg is through with you!" Philip cried out, though it was clear as could be that he was trying to convince himself more than any of the brigands. They weren't going to be listening to him regardless of what he said, but Philip knew for sure that he had to steel his resolve if he was going to get through this in one piece. Not even the whimsy of childhood could defend him from the glint of rusted crimson steel in the torchlight of the brigands' den.

"Sir Berg!" the second brigand, the one so notably prone to laughter, repeated. "Now there's a frightenin' name! Look, me arm's all a-tremblin'!" He held his hand up and made it shake dramatically as a way of mocking Philip, and the young boy had to resist the urge to shrink back from the gesture as his heart began to scream at him to find a way out.

"Shut up, all of you!"

Before Philip could try anything, the leading man of the bandits cut him off with an angry roar, and he felt as if he was on the verge of jumping out of his skin for a few brief moments. The brigands all looked back to him, and one of the bandits squeaked out the man's name. "B-Boss...? Gaston...?"

The leader of the bandits, Gaston, glared at his crew without a shred of mercy. "Reckon the boy's got more courage than the lot of you-an' more wits, to boot," he declared. "So less yammerin' and more sharpenin' your stabbers!"

"B-But, Boss... Ain't no way the hedge knight will follow us here. Unless he's mad and all," came the weakened voice of the third brigand to speak previously. All of his prior confidence had been sucked out of his body in the blink of an eye, leaving him seemingly a husk of his former self.

"Aye," the second bandit agreed with a nod. "It ain't like it's his own son or nothin'. Why should he care?" Unseen by the brigands in the cave, Philip felt himself begin to shrink, and he was glad that for a moment, eyes were somewhere besides him.

Gaston shrugged nonchalantly before turning back to Philip, meaning the young boy's reprieve from attention was brief at best. "Why, indeed? Things could get interestin' though if he does show," he pointed out. "Always had a soft spot for men with more courage than sense." His eyes closed as if he had fallen into a trance of contemplative reminiscence. "Like the boy here."

Gaston took a step forward, and Philip forced himself to remain stationary. He couldn't run even if he wanted to. If the bandits didn't catch him, then the injury on his ankle would surely prevent him from easily escaping. Instead, he forced the bile back down his throat as a terrified shiver dashed up his spine. Gaston either didn't notice Philip's fear or didn't care, too caught up in himself to speak of it openly.

Much to Philip's surprise, Gaston actually crouched down so that their eyes were equal in elevation. "What do you say, laddie? Care to join our little family? We're always lookin' for men with pluck," he said. His voice was so even that it was clear without a shadow of a doubt that he was serious, and somehow, that only made Philip feel even worse, and he hadn't even thought that to be possible.

A sudden burst of energy and drive overcame Philip, and he retreated by a few paces despite the pain that pulsed through his leg in response. "I'll never join you! I'm going to be a brave warrior like Sir Berg!" he cried out, spitting the words in the direction of the brigands to truly drive the point home.

For a moment, Gaston remained at Philip's eye level before a reverberating cackle burst free of his lips as he rose to his full height, turning to his comrades for affirmation. "You hear that, men? The boy says he's too good for banditry!" When Gaston took a step towards Philip, his eyes grew dark and twisted, like he was barely holding back some dreadful beast deep within. "Think you're the only one who feels that way, boy? Let me tell you somethin'..."

Before Gaston could continue, he cut himself off, falling into silence as he glanced around the cave. He remained silent even after one of his bandits called his title out, and Gaston's eyes narrowed as he heard a notable clash of steel coming from just behind Philip.

First, it was a swing of a sword. From there, a burst of wind magic pierced the air, and the three brigands guarding the entrance of the area were sent crashing to the ground. Philip barely managed to scurry out of the way in time. As the guards fell into heaps of limps on the ground, Cyrus and Tressa came into view, both with their hands extended to show that they had been the ones responsible for the blow.

Olberic dashed into view soon afterwards, and he came to rest in a defensive position in front of Philip. "Sir!" the young boy cried out, on the verge of lapsing into tears out of pure relief that Olberic had come for him. The knight didn't spare him a glance, but it was clear through the way that he glared at Gaston with the rage of a thousand suns that he was glad Philip had remained mostly unharmed during his time with the brigands.

"Sorry I'm late, lad. Got held up along the way," Olberic told Philip, giving the boy a brief glance out of the corner of his vision. Cyrus and Tressa came to stand on either side of him as Ophilia held her staff above her head, and with a single flourishing motion, light passed over Philip's body and healed the injury on his leg, allowing him to put his full weight on his damaged ankle once again. The other travelers were refreshed immediately as well in preparation for the inevitable encounter.

"'Ey, look. It's the mighty Sir Berg in the flesh," crowed one of the bandits in his heavy accent. He leaned forwards with a glare festering in his eyes, tone notably mocking.

"He is mad!" another brigand cried out. "An' how'd he get in here anyway?! Where are the lookouts?!"

Olberic scoffed in response. "Bleeding in the dirt, last I saw," he replied bluntly. The brigands recoiled by a step in their surprise as Ophilia took her place alongside Tressa in defense of Philip.

Gaston burst into laughter, his eyes on fire with something terrifying. He rushed forward and swung his sword down towards Olberic. The knight deflected the blow with his own blade, and Cyrus cast a quick wind spell that he had picked up from Tressa along the way to send Gaston sliding back by one or two paces. It wasn't much distance, but it was enough to offer them all the space that they needed to prepare for what was to come.

"Sir!" Philip cried out, reaching one hand out in desperation to help Olberic. Ophilia sent her arm out in front of Philip to keep him from rushing forward into the line of fire, her gaze gentle when she turned in his direction.

"Stay back!" Olberic instructed, not daring to take his eyes off Gaston for even a breath of a moment. Philip nodded and recoiled by a few steps, his gaze wide and transparent with notable fear.

"D-Did he just-? He just parried the boss' blow!" one of the brigands cried out, shock interwoven across his features. He glanced to the others in the vicinity just to make sure that they had seen the same thing that he had. Sure enough, the other bandits were just as surprised as he was.

"Hang me, but I ain't never seen anyone do that before..." another bandit whispered, his eyes wide as could be. He was reaching for his weapon, seeming to know that he was going to need it if he wanted to survive his encounter with Olberic and the rest of the company.

"You're quick, alright... And strong," Gaston confessed, his tone tinged with hints of admiration. "Clearly no common hedge knight, are you?"

"Just as you are no common brigand," Olberic snapped back. He had been able to feel it in Gaston's blow when the two crossed blades. There was more to Gaston than met the eye, and he was much stronger than one would have expected him to be at a first glance. His eyes narrowed as he addressed the sword in question that was resting between Gaston's fingers. It had a golden hilt and shone silver even among the rusted weapons found throughout the cave. Something clicked in the back of Olberic's mind as he realized that he had seen it somewhere before, though the specific location of its origin remained unknown. "That blade..."

"Like it, do you?" Gaston questioned. "It just so happens to be a present from an old friend."

Everything came together at a frightening speed, and Olberic's eyes went wide with shock. His grasp on his sword relaxed for a brief handful of seconds. "Erhardt?!" he cried out. He remembered his old companion brandishing that same blade against him in the training yards of Hornburg a lifetime ago. They had fought to prove who was stronger, though their battles always came up a draw since they could read one another like books (right up until the moment where it truly mattered, that was).

"Oho! You know the man, do you now?" Gaston inquired. The faces of the brigands all shifted to confusion as their combative stances melted away to pure shock. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa offered sideways glances to one another out of their peripheral vision to see if any of the others knew what was happening, but the answer came up negative just as anticipated.

"So it is his blade," Olberic muttered, his voice coming out bitter and harsh as if the syllables had been spat out rather than spoken. "As if I needed another reason to cut you down where you stand!" His sword was suddenly raised in Gaston's direction, and the tempest swirling in his eyes was terrifying in its ferocity. "How do you know Erhardt, rogue? Speak, or I'll slice your throat!"

Gaston's face distorted into a menacing snarl. "You've got a score to settle, is that it? I can see it in your eyes. They blazed like fire when you said his name. Look, I don't know what passed between you and Erhardt... But if you're looking to ask questions of me, my good sir... You'll have to earn the right!"

With those words, Gaston rushed forward, his eyes screaming with the promise of violence. His sword glittered in his grasp, and he slashed in Olberic's direction swiftly. The knight responded by fending off Gaston's blow with as much force as he could muster, sending Gaston back by a few paces. He struck once again a moment later with a slash of his sword and a subsequent stab from the spear that he had acquired on the way inside. Gaston's eyes narrowed at the spear before he got a grip on himself once again and concentrated on the battle at hand. It was clear that he knew where the lance had come from and was using that as yet another reason to target Olberic with the full force of his enmity.

"Stay back here, Philip," Ophilia told the boy over her shoulder. He nodded, fear filling his youthful eyes. A moment later, Ophilia glanced back to the rest of the cave. "There are six brigands in here aside from their leader. We should take care of them while Olberic defeats the commander."

"We wouldn't want to leave him overwhelmed, after all," Cyrus agreed. He took in a small breath and sent one hand forward with a swift flick of his wrist. A series of icicles began to mount on top of one another before slamming into the nearest group of brigands, sending them flying backwards. Ophilia followed up with a blast of light while Tressa unleashed an attack of bright green wind magic. The three shared one glance before rushing in once again.

Olberic and Gaston continued to clash swords, sparks flying free of the blades when they made rough contact with one another. Olberic glared at his opponent with as much vitriol as he could muster. For the moment, he had something that he had to accomplish. It was somewhere between rescuing Philip and taking out his anger against Erhardt, but he couldn't care less for the details. The battle was calling him, and he would be foolish to not heed its words.

Update time, everyone!

I'm trying to get this one out quick since I want to get to sleep as soon as possible. Finals are coming up for me since the school year is ending, and I need to rest sooner rather than later so that I don't completely fall apart. Oops. With all of that said though, the new update is here!

One thing that I really liked about this chapter was the choice to have Cyrus as the character who the beginning section was focusing on. At this point, the rest of the group knows Olberic only as 'Berg' since Olberic still hasn't revealed his true identity to them, but Cyrus can still tell that there's more going on with him than meets the eye. Olberic is going by his actual name rather than his alias within the narration for the sake of reducing confusion with third person and all of that, but the rest of the group does still only know him as Berg.

Aside from that though, I would say that this chapter primarily speaks for itself. I really do like this chapter, and luckily for you all, I should be back in about four days with the final part of Olberic's first chapter since my typing schedule offers more time for this story nowadays. Until then, I hope you all enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a nice day, everyone!

-Digital