Tressa knocked the brigands back with yet another blast of wind as soon as they dared to get too close. She, Ophilia, and Cyrus all knew that their goal for the time being was just to fend off their foes rather than resort to killing them. It wouldn't be necessary given that Philip had been rescued and was now in relatively safe hands (as secure as he could be while still at the scene of a dangerous battle, that was). It hopefully wouldn't take too much for them to be able to defeat the smaller brigands so that they could move onto Gaston. It was clear as could be who was running the show within the den of the bandits given how powerful Gaston was, so it was up to them to move as quickly as possible so that they could assist Olberic sooner rather than later.
"We'll have to rely on magic in order to defeat them," Cyrus said to the other two as soon as he was given the chance to do so. "I can sense that they aren't going to be weak to the staves, lances, and bows that we have at our disposal currently, so we'll have to turn our attention to magic instead." His skills of analysis were certainly coming in handy given the circumstances, and Ophilia and Tressa nodded their understanding before starting to cast their next set of spells.
Cyrus flicked one wrist outwards, and fire immediately began to form and spread. The brigands were unable to escape in time, and they were knocked backwards by the sheer force of the blow. It was easy enough to keep the brigands away from the group since they were only using magical attacks that were most effective at range, and that meant that there was relatively little for the trio to worry about in terms of sustaining hits from their foes.
Ophilia noticed how Cyrus' attack had done a significant amount of damage, and she braced herself before unleashing a fiery blow of her own in the direction of the bandits, immediately sending them into another spiral of uncontrollable screams as they struggled to get a grasp on themselves. Cyrus gave her a proud nod when he was given the chance to do so, a sign that he was glad that she had picked up on fire magic so quickly. It was certainly proving itself more useful than light in that situation, so it was a relief that she had figured out how to use it.
Tressa closed her eyes before focusing all of her remaining energy on a blast of windy energy, and that was seemingly all that it took to knock the enemy brigands to the ground. This time, none of them dared to get back up again, too deprived of energy to even bother trying to fight back once more. Cyrus kept a wary eye on them for a while longer just to be safe, but it soon became clear that their fatigue was no show meant to lure the group into a false sense of security. They truly were down for the count, and after seeing the full extent of the power that the trio possessed, they had decided to back down and keep their lives with wounded pride.
Nearby, Olberic's clash with Gaston was nothing short of the simple word 'fierce'. Every swing of Gaston's blade was met with a corresponding slash from Olberic, though neither of them was ever able to make contact with the other's body. Olberic kept his spear within his left hand, glad that he had learned how to use both weapons at once through his ambidextrous abilities of battle. He was able to get in a quick stab in Gaston's direction as soon as the other man was forced backwards by a particularly powerful slash from Olberic. Gaston let out a groan in response, and when he looked up to meet Olberic's gaze once again, his eyes were on fire with something passionate and terrifying. Even if it took the rest of his days, he was going to do what he could to exact his revenge.
"I've never seen a fighter as strong as you before," Gaston remarked, his tone mocking despite the clear fact that he was at a disadvantage. He brought his sword up, but once again, Olberic blocked the strike and managed to get in another stab with his spear. "You've got much more power than everyone gave you credit for, hedge knight."
Olberic knew that his foe was trying to goad him into losing his focus, but he refused to yield no matter the circumstances. He held up his blade in preparation for another block, but he was cut off when Gaston revealed that the strike was a feint and went in a completely different direction. Olberic's eyes went wide as a final piece of preparation for the blow to come, but luckily for him, the sword never made contact with his skin.
Instead, a piercing clap of thunder echoed throughout the small cave, and when Olberic looked for the source of the noise, he found that Cyrus had two fingers trained squarely in Gaston's direction. Smoke was trailing away from his grasp, a sign that he had been the mystery caster to save Olberic from that potentially fatal blow. Olberic gave him a brief nod of gratitude, and Cyrus returned the gesture before sinking into a combative stance in preparation for Gaston's next blow.
Gaston wiped blood away from his mouth as soon as he was able to pull himself back together. "You fight well together. Is this your band, hedge knight?" he asked. His tone was dangerously conversational, as if he had forgotten for a few brief moments that they were meant to be battling against one another.
Olberic fell silent for a moment, unsure as to how he was meant to respond to that. Luckily for him, he didn't need to say anything to Gaston as a reply. Tressa rushed in with her spear primed, and while Gaston was distracted with posing his question to Olberic, the young merchant was able to get in a quick blow to Gaston's torso.
The brigand roared in pain, his eyes going wide with something between anger and distress. He turned towards Tressa, enraged that she had the audacity to disturb the duel between himself and Olberic, but he never had the chance to reciprocate her attack. Instead, Ophilia stepped in with a grounding breath and a quick ice spell that spread in his direction before he had the chance to blink. Gaston was stuck in place for a few crucial moments, giving Ophilia all the time that she needed to dash in his direction and slam Gaston over the head with her staff with as much force as she was able to muster with her lack of training in physical combat.
The ice started to give way a moment later, a mark of Ophilia's inexperience with the spell, but that was more than enough for the rest of the group. Olberic closed his eyes and summoned as much strength as he could muster into his blade in preparation for the final blow. Cyrus threw icicles in Gaston's direction as Ophilia did much the same with lightning magic. Tressa used her spear to stab with all the power that her small body could bear.
Gaston's eyes went wide as he registered all of the damage that he was sustaining, but that still wasn't able to save him from what came next on Olberic's part. All it took was a single slash from Olberic for everything to fall apart for Gaston, and he was left stumbling backwards while holding at his stomach in a vain attempt to lessen the pain and agony coursing mercilessly through his body. His axe drove itself into the ground in a last-ditch effort for Gaston to stabilize himself as he glanced up to the knight with unreadable eyes.
"I... I yield," Gaston said after a moment of heavy silence. The rest of the brigands behind him were also crouched on the ground, understanding that their commander's words meant that there was no point to struggling anymore. They had been defeated, and the time had come for them to surrender if they wished to keep hold of the stability that came with life.
Olberic allowed his sword to find its home in its sheath, and he dropped his spear back down to his side. The other three members of his party also removed their weapons from the ready position, and Tressa braced her fingers against the straps of her bag just as an extra sign that they weren't going to be doing anything violent against the surrendered bandits. Philip stood behind them, his eyes wide in awe as he watched the fighters carefully.
"Now I will have my answers. How do you know Erhardt?" Olberic questioned, his eyes narrowing in Gaston's direction. Ophilia and Tressa glanced to one another in confusion, but recognition flew across Cyrus' features as he turned his attention to Olberic. His gaze turned to something inquisitive as he tried to determine the truth of what he was witnessing.
"We fought alongside each other is all. Served together in a band of mercenaries," Gaston replied simply as he rose to his feet. He kept his weapon on the ground to show that he was done with combat the same way that his foes were. "He was already an old hand when I signed up. Helped me out, showed me the ropes."
Olberic nodded, his gaze dropping as he fell into silent contemplation. "A sellsword... And where is he now?" he questioned. There was something tempestuous in his eyes that Cyrus picked up on immediately, and his own expression shifted as he started to put the pieces together.
"Damned if I know. When our group disbanded, we went our separate ways," Gaston said with a shrug. "After that, I drifted from one town to the next. Tried one trade, then another, but swingin' a blade's the only thing that's ever come natural to me. So here I am. Times are lean, and a man's got to make a living."
Olberic shook his head. "Anyone could use a sword arm like yours. You could protect the people instead of stealing from them," he proposed, his voice taking on an almost sorrowful quality as he watched Gaston. He had understood this much when he and Gaston clashed blades; there was always a place out there for Gaston that was greater than pillaging and killing. Gaston had the potential to be much more than he was in that instant, and yet, he had chosen the path of darkness and death rather than seeking the light that could be found in the world.
"Aye, I could," Gaston replied simply. "But honest work takes more wits than the gods saw fit to bless me with. Never meant to do anyone no harm... But life doesn't always give us a choice in the matter, does it?"
Olberic's eyes hardened once again. Gaston had made his choice, and it was time for the aftermath of such a decision to come to life. "Choice or no, you must answer for your crimes," he told the other man. In other circumstances, he would have told Gaston of the true depth of the potential that he had been ignoring, but he knew that it was too late for that. Both he and Gaston had made their choices, and Olberic had seen enough of the world to understood what had to come next.
"Aye, I know the score, but I've got my men to think about too," Gaston responded, glancing over his shoulder at the bandits that were slowly starting to rise to their feet. They all let out cries of surprise at Gaston's words, but he held up a hand to silence them. "Easy now, men. The hedge knight has the right of it. I've got more than enough blood on my hands. Live by the sword, and..." His voice trailed off before he shook his head. "Well, you know how it goes. A man has to own up to what he's done."
Ophilia appeared to be on the verge of saying something, her eyes full of sympathy and remorse, but Olberic beat her to it. "Enough blood has been spilled here today. Surrender, and I will see that you and your men are not harmed."
"You do me a kindness, hedge knight," Gaston smiled sadly. "An' so I'll do you one in return... I told you I didn't know where Erhardt is. An' I don't. But I know someone who might."
Olberic let out a gasp of strangled surprise, and once again, Ophilia and Tressa turned their attention to him, eyes inquiring for answers. They seemed to sense that this wasn't the time to ask though, so they remained silent. Cyrus, on the other hand, simply glanced back to Gaston with Olberic in his peripheral vision, satisfied with his silent deductions.
"Gustav's his name," Gaston continued. "Sir Gustav. Some call him the Black Knight or other such fussed-up nonsense. Erhardt taught us both how to use the sword back in the mercenary band. You should find him in Victors Hollow."
Olberic processed the information as quickly as he could. Victors Hollow was the largest town in the Woodlands, and it could be found on the opposite side of Orsterra. He had never been previously, never having had a reason to travel there, but he certainly saw purpose in the concept now. "And this man will tell me where Erhardt is?" he questioned, almost not believing what he was hearing.
"He might. Then again, he might not," Gaston shrugged. "Still, if you want to find him that much, I reckon it's worth tryin'." Olberic stared at him for a long moment before Gaston continued to speak, growing almost unsettling stoic. "I saw your eyes, hedge knight. They were dead, like a fish. But the moment you saw my blade, they came to life."
"Dead?" Olberic echoed, punctuating the word with such shock that it made Philip jump from his place behind the quartet of travelers. "Have I truly been...?"
Gaston let out an empty, half-hearted attempt at a chuckle. "But what does a common thief know of men's souls?" he questioned though he was not expecting an answer in the slightest.
The echoing of footsteps suddenly interrupted the conversation, and the sound came so randomly that Tressa nearly jumped enough to lose her balance. Ophilia gave her a steadying glance to ensure that she was alright, and Tressa nodded in response before glancing over her shoulder. The culprits behind the noise were a few members of the guard from Cobbleston. Even though they were unfamiliar to Cyrus, Ophilia, and Tressa, it was easy to guess that they were far from being trained soldiers thanks to the unprofessional attire they wore. When combined with the fact that they were wearing the colors of most Cobbleston attire, it was easy enough to come to the conclusion.
"Berg! Thank the gods you're safe! The villagers are safe as well, sir!" the first of the two patrolmen said. His expression was overcome with brief confusion at the sight of Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa, a strange ensemble to be passing through Cobbleston and fighting alongside the distant and detached Olberic, but he corrected his gaze a few moments later to keep from attracting unnecessary attention.
The second of the guards was notably undeterred by the presence of the new arrivals. "Round up the thieves and lock them in the village gaol!" he declared to his partner, earning a nod in return.
Gaston's gaze fell to the ground as something tempestuous overcame his eyes. "Berg... I could swear I've heard that..." His voice trailed off as he attempted to figure out the full scape of the picture, and a moment later, he cried out in shock. "Gods be good! Eisenberg! Should have known it the way your eyes lit up at the mention of Erhardt's name... Aye, you're no hedge knight. You're Sir Olberic Eisenberg, the Unbending Blade of Hornburg."
The brigands all cried out in shock at the words, and Tressa's eyes went wide as she yelped in surprise. Ophilia stared at Olberic in disbelief, trying to evaluate if the words were true or not. Cyrus' suspicions regarding Olberic were finally confirmed with Gaston's words, and he allowed his shoulders to lose their tension as he glanced to the older man standing nearby. Philip gasped as well, his face pale as he stared up at the idol that he admired so much.
"The Unbending Blade...?" the first of the patrols echoed. It took a moment for the recognition to flit across his features, but when it did, his jaw dropped in complete surprise.
"They said he was slain when Hornburg fell..." one of the brigands muttered, still in clear shock as to the revelation.
Another brigand shook his head. "I'd heard he lived, but I scarce believed it... Until today," he declared.
"Is it true, sir?" Philip asked, his voice small and fragile in comparison to everything else bouncing around the cave. "Are you... A real knight?" It was clear that the mention of Hornburg was forcing Philip to draw comparisons once more between the subject of his infatuation and the father that he no longer had, and his eyes were overcome with strange unfamiliarity as he sought answers in Olberic's gaze.
"Long ago, lad," Olberic said simply, his voice filled with sorrow that was poorly masked behind a sense of purpose in the aftermath of the battle. "Long ago." Tressa squeaked at the confirmation, and Ophilia's eyes began to shift into analysis as she tried to comprehend the rumors that she had heard and how they could reconcile with the truth of Olberic's survival. Everyone had heard of the two most powerful soldiers of Hornburg, and Ophilia was kicking herself for not putting the pieces together sooner. The names Berg and Erhardt should have made the fact of the matter all too clear.
Olberic approached Philip regardless of all the eyes that were locked squarely on him. "Let's be on our way. We've kept your mother waiting long enough," he went on. His words were so casual in comparison to the severity of the situation, and it offered a strange tonal clash that the rest of the people in the cave struggled to give a definition to. Philip nodded in response, and the guards moved forward to apprehend the brigands, bringing an end to the events of the day at long last.
A few hours passed in the aftermath of the fight, and Olberic found himself standing in front of the mirror of his home. The mention of his past had spurred him into doing something strange. His brown attire that he had worn to defend Cobbleston was swapped out for the regal blue that he had worn when defending Hornburg. Erhardt's name had given him new purpose, and he felt as if it was only natural that he donned the same colors that he had worn the same day that he battled with his other half eight years prior. Philip had been returned home safely, and the bandits were rounded up. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa had volunteered to help send the brigands to the gaol, and Olberic had taken his leave of the situation as soon as the proper moment arose.
At long last, Olberic had his next destination: Victors Hollow. Eight long years in Cobbleston were giving way to something new, and if all went well, he would be able to find this Gustav character and then Erhardt. He still did not understand why he swung his blade, but he was determined to find the answers that he sought. His purpose had eluded him for nearly a decade, but he was closer than ever to grasping it once more, and he was going to chase it with everything that he had.
When Olberic walked out a few moments later, he was met with a familiar trio of faces. Ophilia was the first to speak, a gentle smile on her face. They hadn't said much on the matter of Olberic's true identity, too caught up in the chaos of the moment to be given the chance, but it seemed to be silently understood that such a thing was unnecessary. "We had a feeling that you would be leaving," Ophilia said simply. "We're going on a journey of our own, and... If you would like to join us, we would be happy to have you."
Olberic stared at the three in shock. He hadn't expected this of all outcomes to take place. Ophilia, Cyrus, and Tressa had initially become his allies out of a temporary convenience and wish for justice. They sought to help the innocent boy that had been captured by the brigands, and Olberic understood that having assistance would make the coming battle easier on all sides. He had clearly made enough of an impact for them to desire something more, and that was the last thing that he could have anticipated.
Still, he would have been lying if he said that he was against the idea of traveling with them. There was something about the three that felt oddly appealing to Olberic. Perhaps it was somewhere between Ophilia's warm smile, Cyrus' careful sense of analysis, and Tressa's bright and optimistic attitude. Olberic had become strong with reading people as soon as he started training to become a knight. After all, his skills of perception could be the dividing line between what kept him from death at any given moment during battle, and he had come to understand how crucial his instincts were to finding security.
Olberic had lost his home ages ago in Hornburg. Cobbleston had become a temporary replacement for what he would never again possess, but something about this strange trio of travelers was different to him. It was difficult for him to describe since he had never been a wordsmith, but he just knew that this was something that had been meant to be from the very beginning. He knew that this was right, and he was confident that this was the right decision to make. He was taking a chance and stepping out of his comfort zone, but maybe that was just what he needed after living in fear for so many years of the power that he possessed inside and out.
Olberic nodded simply in the direction of the other travelers, unable to forge the words necessary to speak any of the thoughts that were passing casually yet with purpose through his mind. "Alright," he agreed, uncertain as to if saying anything else would dampen the impact of the simple word. He would have time to sort through his emotions later, but for the time being, he would travel alongside this peculiar trio of characters to Victors Hollow with hopes of seeking the one man who would be able to provide him the answers that he had come to seek over the course of the past eight years of lonely misery without a reason to draw breath.
The rest of the townsfolk had seemingly all come to understand that Olberic was leaving, and his closest companions were gathered near the entrance to Cobbleston when he arrived with the rest of his company. Among them were the village headman, the main members of the Cobbleston guard, and Philip's mother, though her son was notably absent.
"So you truly mean to leave us," the headman said simply, his eyes filled with time-worn sorrow as he observed Olberic's bag and the sheen to his gaze as he regarded the exit of the town.
"You have shown me nothing but kindness," Olberic told him. "I am forever in your debt."
The headman shook his head. "It is we who owe you, friend," he responded. "Were the choice mine to make, you would stay with us forever. But it is your life to live."
"We won't ever forget all you've done for us, sir," the captain of the watch declared. His wounds from the previous battle had been bandaged, and he wore a smile despite the damage that he had sustained previously.
"The next time any dirty brigands come after us, we'll give 'em a good kicking in your name!" one of the guards announced next, a wide and determined grin plastered across his features firmly.
"We're no knights, sir, but you've taught us well. We can protect our home at the very least," the second guard present agreed.
Olberic nodded. "I'm glad to hear it." Instinctively, his gaze shifted over to Philip's mother in curiosity. If there was one person that he wanted to bid farewell to, it was Philip, and yet, the young boy was notably absent. Olberic felt a knot form in his stomach regardless of how much he tried to shove it aside.
"I'm sorry, sir," Philip's mother told Olberic with apologetic eyes as soon as she noticed that he was staring at her expectantly. "Philip... He couldn't come. Didn't want you to see him crying, most likely."
Olberic shook his head, trying to pretend that he didn't feel sorrow consolidating in his core. "I understand. Tell the boy I am counting on him to grow strong and to look after his dear mother."
The woman nodded in response, a sad smile on her face. "Thank you, sir. I will." There were tears in her eyes despite her attempts to swallow them back, and Olberic looked away out of silent respect for her.
"When you've done whatever it is you must do, pray come back and visit us," the headman said next. "No matter how far your journey takes you, you'll always have a home here."
"Thank you," Olberic responded. He glanced in the direction of his companions, earning a nod from Ophilia and a gentle smile from Cyrus. The time had come for them to depart, and he knew it. "And with that, I had best-"
Before the sentence could be completed, the careful echo of footsteps reached Olberic's ears. He turned to see Philip running towards him, wooden blade in hand. He attempted to get in a quick swipe with his weapon towards Olberic, but the knight stepped out of the way at the last moment, leaving him only clipped on the arm rather than suffering worse damage. Everyone in the area gasped in shock, leaving the air tense and heavy. "Philip!" came the cry of the young boy's mother, surprise written clearly across her features.
Olberic couldn't help but smile despite the bruise that he knew was forming on his lower arm. "It's alright. That was a good blow, lad! You're getting strong," he said, voice overflowing with pride. Philip truly was improving, and it was almost impossible to believe that the boy that Olberic had met so many years prior was developing into such an impressive young man already. His strength was incredible despite his young age, and Olberic knew that by the time he returned, Philip would have found a new sense of pride and power in himself. He could simply sense it even if the future yet eluded his grasp.
"I'm going to keep training while you're way," Philip told him, eyes alight with determination and passion. "Then... When you come back...! I'll be even stronger! And then... Then... Maybe I could...!"
After a moment of poignant silence, Olberic nodded. "Aye, lad," he agreed. No words needed to be spoken to define Philip's emotions. Olberic understood, and he knew that everyone else in the area did as well. "I'll get stronger too, and we'll see each other again. You have my word."
Philip surged forward, dropping his blade and throwing his arms around Olberic. After a few seconds of being stunned statuesque, Olberic returned the embrace. "You... You had better not forget! A knight... A knight always keeps his word!" Philip exclaimed.
"Of course, lad," Olberic murmured in response. He might not have known his purpose in life, but he knew that a moment like this was something to live for. "Of course."
As the travelers left behind Cobbleston, Ophilia glanced up at Olberic. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" she asked of him. She left the words about Olberic's care for Philip unspoken, knowing that he understood them even in the silence.
"Yes," Olberic replied simply. He was never going to be able to find the answers that he sought if he remained living in fear for the rest of his life, and this was the only way for him to witness what he was truly meant to be. Leaving behind Cobbleston was the first step, and he had to take it after living in hesitation and intermission for eight years.
"We should arrive at Sunshade before nightfall," Cyrus declared. "If all goes well, we will be able to slip in and out of the town without much trouble. From there, it won't be long before we reach Saintsbridge. Continuing on our current path will bring us to our destination soon enough."
"From there... Who knows?" Tressa questioned, a hearty laugh breaking free of her lips. "I'm sure that we'll figure it out soon enough. Quarrycrest, Victors Hollow, or any other city, village, or town out there... They aren't going to know what hit them when we get there!" She punched her fist into the air, sending ripples of laughter throughout the other members of the party soon afterwards.
The silence that followed was warm, and it filled Olberic's chest in a way that he didn't expect. Much about his life had come to be a mystery when his purpose disappeared, but he knew that this was something that he could enjoy. Philip had been something to live for even if he noticed it a bit too late, but maybe this was as well. Something deep in his core told him that this was the best decision he could have made, and something even further inside whispered that he had found home.
Wow. I really have a newfound appreciation for Olberic's story after writing the past four chapters. I've always loved Olberic's story, don't get me wrong, but I definitely love it more now that I've had the chance to write it out. You really pick up on a lot of thematic and symbolic decisions made throughout his first chapter this way, and I loved working through them.
This is by far my favorite of the concluding chapters as well (concluding in the sense that it ends a given chapter from the game). The moment at the end, while small, is still important to the development of all the characters in my eyes. I just love the way that it all came together, and things are only going to get more intense from here. After the chapter ones are taken care of, we'll get more bonding moments from the rest of the party since I'll be free to slow down the pacing without shooting the plot in the foot. I'm just kind of in love with this story after writing this chapter, and I'm so happy that I have more time to work on it now. Once again, this chapter gave me the same vibes as my Digimon Frontier rewrite, and that's always a surefire way to become a winner in my heart.
Anyways, I'm going to leave things off here. In the next chapter, we'll be meeting our favorite dancer, Primrose! Until then, I hope you all enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated. Have a nice day, everyone!
-Digital