Hey, everyone! I figured I'd give uploading this a shot.
Octopath Traveler is one of my favorite games and is very close to my heart. The fandom is amazing and I've read fantastic fics from it before, so I wanted to contribute to the community. I discovered the Cyrus/Ophilia ship while I was first dabbling in the fandom and absolutely fell in love with it. I wanted to write for them right away.
Here are a few notes about this fic:
I'm going to try to mostly stay canon compliant, but some things may get twisted up or bent. Please be patient with me as I try to stay as accurate as possible.
I'm aware that in game the tavern is separate from the inn. It just works better with the story this way, and it felt like a small enough change to get away with.
Though I'm improving daily, I still consider myself very much a novice writer. Reviews and constructive criticism are heavily appreciated.
(Cover art by LightSilverstar on Twitter!)
Well, I've bored you long enough. Happy reading!
If you spoke with anyone who'd had the pleasure of meeting Professor Cyrus Albright, they would have a lot to say about him. He was, of course, one of the most intelligent people you could ever know, with a seemingly never ending stream of facts and theories spouting out of his mouth at any given time. Other ways he'd be described as were charming, logical, cunning, and an excellent teammate. Personality aside, his discoveries were quite exceptional for his age. He had single handedly accomplished more than many esteemed professors years older than him.
Though at first the man may have sounded nearly flawless, he had one glaring weakness. Cyrus Albright, the famed professor and scholar, had no experience with women. As ridiculous as it sounds, it was true. He was unaware of his own attractiveness and appeal to the opposing gender, and often made them uncomfortable with his thoughtless words and actions. Being so constantly immersed in his studies had restricted him from gaining experience with human emotions.
Nobody knew this better than Ophilia Clement, one of the professor's fellow travellers and close friends. As a cleric hailing from the snowy town of Flamesgrace, her only goal when she first began her travels was to carry out her duty of performing the Kindling, a sacred ritual that was originally entitled to her adoptive sister. At the last moment, she had taken Lianna's place and left to travel across Orsterra, a task bigger than any she'd ever had in her life. Her sole goal was to carry out her duty as the Flamebearer, and though making friends along the way was nice, nothing had succeeded to distract her from her mission.
Until Cyrus, that was.
Ophilia knew she was moderately favorable. It had taken years of heads turning whenever she walked through town and whispers of "how lovely!" to draw her to this conclusion. Many boys back in Flamesgrace had attempted to make advances on her, but she would always shoo them away with a disapproving remark and a wry smile. Due to her dedication to her work, she frankly didn't have time for those things.
This being said, Ophilia could hardly believe people found her interesting at all, if she was honest with herself. Sure, she was pretty, but if she were a man in pursuit of romance, she would be much more interested in stunning women such as H'aanit, the stoic huntress who had first befriended her when she left Flamesgrace, or Primrose, the elegant dancer from the Sunlands. She would hardly pay the soft-spoken cleric without a name for herself any mind.
When she met Cyrus in Atlasdam, something changed. It wasn't right away, she reassured herself in later hours of shame. No, it was rather a gradual change, from feelings of amity and polite friendliness to feelings that were entirely alien - and frustrating. She began subconsciously taking note of things she wouldn't have even noticed before, such as the crystal clear hue the sunlight gave his blue eyes, or how the breeze would tousle his flawless dark hair. All of a sudden, everything he had to say on any subject enamored her. She could sit and listen to him talk about Orsterra's geological history for hours and be perfectly content.
And she hated it. It had all been simple up to this point, and now she had to be distracted by something so utterly ridiculous.
What irked Ophilia the most about these feelings was the inevitable fact that Cyrus was nearly unattainable. However clueless he was about it, he attracted women of all ages like a magnet. Ophilia was just another one of the unfortunate girls who had been caught in his trap. It was only a matter of time until he snagged a brave one, who would actually make a move, and . . .
"Ophilia?" H'aanit's voice broke through Ophilia's thoughts like a stone shattering a glass window. The cleric blinked hastily, then turned to look at her friend. The huntress was leaning forward, gazing at Ophilia. Her eyebrows were knit together above her jade eyes in concern. "Thou lookest troubled."
"My apologies, H'aanit," she said quickly, flashing a small smile. "I was just lost in thought for a moment there." The huntress nodded in understanding, and took a hearty gulp from the mug sitting on the table in front of her.
Ophilia glanced around the nearly silent tavern. It was early; the sun's weak rays were just barely shining through the window. Only a few people besides her and H'aanit were sleepily mingling around the dimly lit room. This being said, a few of their teammates were starting to make their way downstairs from the inn on the second floor, shoulders heavy with drowsiness.
Olberic, the tall, hearty soldier was the first to come down, smiling warmly at the two women. Olberic had always been the implicit leader of their group, being the oldest and most experienced. His background in knighthood had made him a firm warrior and strong believer in teamwork. He towered over even the tallest of men, and though he had a stoic, gruff disposition, underneath that was a kindhearted, trustworthy man. Ophilia would be embarrassed to admit it aloud, but Olberic was almost like a father figure to her.
Primrose followed close behind, chatting carelessly with Olberic. Despite how tired she must have been from last night's merrymaking, she stood up straight, emitting confidence and dignity. Her thick brown hair, pulled into a ponytail, swayed behind her as she walked. Eyes followed her as she passed, but she paid them no mind. She was used to it - for many years she had been held captive by a greedy man and was forced to dance for visitors at a grimy tavern in Sunshade. Now that she had finally been freed, she didn't have to perform for anyone.
A few moments later, Tressa the merchant came bounding down the stairs, her face lit up with a smile. Tressa was the very essence of a morning person, always ready to start the day off right. She was one of the most outspoken members of the group, and she had to be for her job. "No one's going to buy something from a bland merchant," she would always say, "no matter what the price." Though she was small, the shortest and youngest of their eight-person group, her loud personality made her stick out - for better, or for worse.
Tressa strode over and sat down by H'aanit. They struck up a friendly conversation, but Ophilia's eyes were still trained on the staircase. Three of their members still weren't here. Alfyn was probably still asleep, Ophilia reasoned with herself, and Therion was probably off picking pockets somewhere. The usual disapproving frown found its way to her face as she pictured the thief stealing candy from some unaware little kid; she wouldn't put it past him.
But Cyrus was often one of the first people to wake, and his absence slightly worried Ophilia. She knew the scholar could more than handle himself, but her protective nature overrode her common sense, as it so often did.
"Good morning, everybody!" Alfyn's loud voice rang out as he rushed downstairs, making nearly everyone jump. His ginger hair was disheveled and he had bags under his eyes, but he wore a huge smile on his face nonetheless. Ophilia stifled a giggle when she noticed Therion lurking behind him, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. She honestly had no idea how the two of them tolerated each other, but they were rarely seen apart ever since they had joined the party as a duo.
"Ah, there you are, Alfyn!" Olberic boomed. "Good to see you, friend." He clapped the man on the back, then nodded at Therion trailing behind. "Morning, Therion." The thief grunted in reply, proceeding to sit down at the bar near Ophilia's table, slowly and gingerly. He was probably still suffering from the side wound he'd received the other day during a rough scrape with some robbers. Alfyn, who had undoubtedly noticed, followed him over. Ophilia couldn't help but listen in on their conversation while she continued to watch the stairs.
"Was that a wince I saw?" Alfyn accused teasingly, sliding onto the seat next to Therion, who scoffed.
"You might be seeing things, medicine man."
"Listen, I know you're still hurting from that fight yesterday. You can't just walk off everything, ya know." Alfyn's good-natured demeanor had slid into a concerned and slightly frustrated one in a matter of seconds. He had been the self-assigned medic of the group ever since he joined, having years of experience as an apothecary, and he hated nothing more than seeing someone hurt. "If you would just let me look at it -"
"It's fine," Therion snapped, clearly in a bad mood. "I think I can tell when I need medical treatment and when I don't." Therion had always been a lone wolf type, and he wasn't used to sympathy from others, bringing him to the point where he'd often downright reject it. This obviously didn't mix well with Alfyn's constant desire to help people, and to make long stories short, this was far from the first time there had been an argument like this.
Alfyn sighed. "Listen, if you don't want me to, at least let Ophilia take a look, or even acknowledge and treat the wound yourself. You can't keep pretending that you aren't hurt - it's only gonna make things worse." His tone of voice had changed from the goofy, mellow voice they all knew so well to the serious, reproving one that surfaced when he was treating someone.
Ophilia expected Therion to snap back again, but he only hummed dejectedly. "Fine, whatever. I'm too tired to argue about this right now. You can have a look if you care so much. Later."
"Shucks. Thank you." Alfyn slouched in relief.
Ophilia tuned the conversation out as she looked to the stairs again. Where was Cyrus?
"You okay, Phili?" Tressa asked, noticing the cleric's worried expression.
"Yes, ist thou feeling well? Thou hath not been yourself as of late," H'aanit agreed, the concerned look returning as she glanced over.
"Oh, I'm just - I'm just wondering where the professor is," Ophilia stammered, caught off guard.
H'aanit merely raised her eyebrows, while Tressa sat up straight and scanned the room. "You're right, where's Cyrus at?" she mused.
"Linde is gone as welle," H'aanit observed, referring to the empty space where her leopard companion once sat. "When I awoke, she wast here, but she must have left whilst I was distracted. She may have gone to hunt, but this early in the day . . ."
As if on cue, the tavern door swung open, and Cyrus strode into the room. Following closely behind him was Linde, head held high. Some of the tavern visitors murmured in shock at the sight of a huge snow leopard walking through the tavern, but most of the team was used to it by now. The duo made their way to the table where the three women sat, Linde taking a place by her master and Cyrus taking the seat next to Ophilia. She could feel her cheeks flushing, and her heartbeat quickened against her will. She bit her lip in frustration. Calm down, she scolded herself. You've been traveling with him for months. Can we please stop doing this every time he walks by?
Her heart apparently disagreed; it continued to beat abnormally fast, to her annoyance.
"Where hast thou been?" H'aanit asked, scratching behind Linde's ears absentmindedly.
"Yeah, Phili was getting pretty worried over here," Tressa commented, making Ophilia's cheeks redden even more.
"Well, it was strange for him to be so late," she attempted to defend herself, straightening.
"Yes, well it is unusual of me to be late, and I apologize for worrying you," he replied, flashing an apologetic smile at Ophilia, who looked down in embarrassment. "You see, I headed out early this morning to do some reading at the local library."
"Of course," Tressa disguised in a cough. Ophilia shot her a look and she shrugged, smiling.
"Linde came searching for me, no doubt because of my tardiness. On the way out, however, I ran into a friendly stranger who had some information I found most intriguing," Cyrus continued, leaning forward, "about rumors of treasure nearby."
Tressa leaned forward too, her interest piqued by the idea of gold. "Spill," she ordered in a hushed, almost reverent voice.
"Apparently, it's a common legend here that in the underground waterways below town, someone left massive amounts of treasure many years ago,'' Cyrus began, his eyes lighting up as they always did when he talked about something he found interesting. "Now, I'm not one to believe in simple hearsay, but there's another thing to consider. Many have searched for it, but haven't got far due to the inane amounts of monsters inhabiting the waterways. I wouldn't think there'd be so many monsters in a simple waterway for no reason. So, I was thinking -"
Tressa hopped up. "That we go check it out?" she interrupted, eyes already blazing with excitement.
He nodded, smiling slightly at the girl's exuberance. "Precisely. I figured we might as well give it a chance, right?" Tressa nodded vigorously, clearly itching to leave as soon as possible, but Cyrus kept talking.
"A four-person party would probably suffice. Of course I'd be going, and . . ." he shot a glance at Tressa, ". . . Tressa is free to come as well."
"I'll go, too," Therion piped up from the bar, apparently listening in. Alfyn shot him an exasperated look that he promptly ignored. "I'm always up for a little treasure hunt."
Tressa rolled her eyes a little less than discreetly, and the thief raised an eyebrow. Everyone knew that Therion and Tressa detested each other. Therion thought Tressa was just a stuck-up, wannabe shopkeeper, while the latter refused to respect Therion's profession - AKA, stealing.
"Very well, then," Cyrus agreed, oblivious to the tension. He turned to Ophilia. "From what I've heard, these monsters are no ordinary sort. We could use someone with your radiant magic in case they prove to be abnormally dangerous. Will you come?"
"Of course." She nodded, subduing her excitement under a small smile. It had been some time since she'd been invited into a party for a minor quest, and she was eager to get out of the inn.
"Well, then, we'll leave after everyone finishes eating."
"And after I've taken a look at Therion's side," Alfyn said firmly, seizing Therion by the wrist and practically dragging him upstairs despite his complaints.