As the four travelers clambered down the slippery stone stairs, Ophilia looked around at the surprisingly large underground corridor. It was dimly lit by torches bolted to the stone walls, with water running through a large canal that shot through the middle of the corridor. The air was dank and wet, and thick moss and vines crept over the bricks that made up the floors and walls. She wasn't sure, but Ophilia could've sworn she saw rats skittering across the floor.
"Lovely place," Therion remarked, breaking the silence.
"Ha, ha," Tressa responded sarcastically. "So where'd you think this treasure is?" She called this out to Cyrus, who was leading the way, lantern in hand.
"Patience, Tressa," Ophilia said, scanning the area around her. "We can't have a good idea of where it is just yet."
"Not exactly, though I do think it would be that way." Cyrus pointed forward to the corridor just ahead of them, as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"What about the other way?" Therion asked, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, to where the corridor ran the opposite direction as well. "How do we know it isn't over there?"
"It may be possible, but look." Cyrus lifted up his lantern to shed light on several rats running away from the corridor ahead. Tressa jumped at the sight, then adjusted her vest in embarrassment. "So many of them, and they all seem to be running from something. Though we can't be sure, there's a chance they're running from monsters."
"And the monsters are guarding the treasure!" Tressa said in realization.
"Precisely." Cyrus nodded.
Therion shrugged. "Fair enough. Let's go."
Silence fell over the group as they began walking down the cold corridor, the anticipation quieting them. They had heard rumors about the powerful monsters - where were they?
This unspoken question was answered after about ten minutes of walking, when a group of skeletal creatures rose from the bricks. The bones flew together to form all sorts of different things; some appeared humanoid, while others more closely resembled horses or sheep. They all wore thin yet sturdy-looking armor. Therion was the first to draw his blade.
"These guys clearly aren't friendly," he said, holding his dagger loosely in his hand. "What's the plan, Prof?" In their team it was customary to let the leader of the expedition make the first decisions, and currently that was Cyrus. The group all turned to look at him. He was studying the enemies, who were coming nearer by the second, closely.
"They're undead, clearly subject of dark matter or necromancy. Weak to light magic. Ophilia!" he called out, shooting her a knowing glance.
She nodded and ran forward. "May the sacred Flame shine forth!" she chanted, holding her staff up. White beams struck from above, engulfing the enemies. The noises they let out were so terrible that Ophilia nearly covered her ears. They were full of fear, pain, and . . . anger. It felt like it echoed throughout her mind and soul.
"Phili, we could really use some help!"
Ophilia realized in sudden shock that she had been standing rigid on the spot. Her magic had killed a few of the monsters but a couple still remained. Tressa, who had called out, was attempting to pierce through one of the skeletal warrior's armor with her spear. Out of the corner of her eye, Ophilia saw one of the skeletal sheep crumble into dust, leaving Therion's dagger plunged into empty space.
On her other side, she saw one of the humanoid ones stalking towards her, mere feet away. Turning on her heel, she rushed forward and swung her staff, but it blocked it with the finely made sword she hadn't noticed it carrying moments before. She sidestepped and dashed quickly around it, striking it in the back - a method Olberic had once taught her. Apparently, she had hit a weak spot; her staff cleaved straight through the thin leather armor and hit bone.
The skeleton screeched in anger. The sound was even worse this time, and Ophilia covered her ears, staggering backwards and lowering her weapon. The skeleton whirled around and slashed its sword at her, leaving a cut across her right arm. She cried out at the sting and took her hands off of her ears, backing away quickly. The skeleton eyed her fiercely, twirling the blade around in its hand. She held her staff in front of her as a defense, waiting for the perfect opportunity to counterstrike. To her dismay, however, her heel hit the ledge, and she almost went toppling into the water flow feet below. It was too close range to use magic, and if she moved too broadly she'd fall. Panicked, she swung her staff at the skeleton, hoping to deter it from pushing her over the edge.
"Oh, ice, pierce them through!" Cyrus's familiar incantation rang throughout the corridor. The ground rumbled, then icicles of all sizes shot out of the stone, impaling the remaining skeletons. The warrior that was such a threat to Ophilia seconds ago crumbled to the floor, lifeless once again.
The cleric exhaled harshly, lowering her staff. She felt faint, as she always did when she expelled a lot of her magic at once, and she bent over to breathe. Therion whistled.
"Huh," he gasped. "Their defense was amateur but they were unusually strong. Put up a good fight."
"For once, we agree," Tressa panted, her spear still held up in a defensive position. Cyrus said nothing, and briskly strode over to Ophilia, who was still standing in the same spot. Each of his icicles melted away as he passed them.
"We all have our rough battles, but that was unusual for you," he said in concern, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from the edge. "You're usually so focused, but your mind seemed elsewhere this time. Are you all right?"
"Didn't their - their screams bother you?" Ophilia asked shakily. Cyrus tilted his head, puzzled.
"I've heard a lot of screaming monsters in my day," he mused. "These ones didn't particularly affect me."
"Me neither," Tressa said, walking over to the two of them. "I mean, they were horrible, but not so horrible that it made me . . ." she trailed off. In the background, Therion shrugged.
"I don't know why they affected me in the way they did, but it nearly paralyzed me," Ophilia stammered. "They were just so . . . rageful sounding. I'm sorry I got distracted."
"Well, we're all still alive, aren't we? So no harm done, my dear," Cyrus replied, smiling. Despite all the distraction, Ophilia felt a flicker of annoyance. There it was again - it drove her up the wall when he used the pet names. Of course, he did it for almost everyone. It was just how casually he would say it, oblivious to all the feelings it gave her. Realizing her thoughts had wandered again, she quickly attempted to smile back, still troubled by the situation.
Therion walked up to join the group. "I can help you with that," he muttered, pointing at the cut on the cleric's arm, which was turning an odd yellow color. "No offense, but you probably shouldn't be using your magic in that state. It looks like poison. Alfyn gave me some stuff for my side, and . . ." He faded into silence as Ophilia nodded, holding out her arm. He quickly bandaged it, putting some sort of salve on the wound beforehand, with surprising gentleness.
"That'll do for now," he said, backing away as he finished. "But you should probably run it by Alfyn when we get back."
Ophilia nodded again, smiling. "Thank you, Therion."
"Don't mention it. Seriously. Don't." He turned away, his good deed of the day apparently done.
Meanwhile, Cyrus was studying her, his smile gone. "You're shivering," he observed, and hastily began undoing the clasp on his cloak. Her face already heating up, Ophilia attempted to protest.
"That - that really isn't necessary, Professor," she said, holding her hands up in a desperate attempt to convince the man that she wasn't about to collapse. "I'm used to the cold. And I have my cloak already."
"Your cloak alone doesn't appear to be sufficient. I insist," he replied firmly, wrapping the large cloak around her and clasping it in the front.
And there was no changing his mind.
The group continued walking, not knowing where they were headed and frankly too scared to ask. Ophilia brought up the rear, the flame in her face finally dying.
Though she hated being fussed over, she was admittedly warmer, and the shivering had almost ceased. The black cloak, a size or two bigger than what was probably best for someone her size, dragged on the floor behind her. She tried to draw her thoughts away from the fact that it smelled rather nice.
It always bothered her how Cyrus would just do stuff like that. Like it was normal. Ophilia knew fully well he was just trying to be a gentleman, but he was so clueless at times that it made things all the harder for her. How was she supposed to avoid her feelings when he did this kind of thing on the daily? There was one memory in particular that stuck out among the rest, and Ophilia couldn't help but smile hopelessly at the thought.
The high temperature of Quarrycrest was something Ophilia wasn't quite used to yet. Harsh sunlight bore down on the group, filling all but Tressa, who was used to warm weather, with exhaustion.
Both Cyrus and Tressa had business here, and as soon as Tressa had wrapped up hers, Cyrus was anxious to get started on his.
Currently, Tressa was explaining to H'aanit how she made sales, but Ophilia's attention was on Cyrus, who was poring over a letter with deep focus. As soon as he folded the letter closed, she walked over to join him.
"Professor, may I ask what that letter was about?" she piped up. "It seemed most engrossing."
Cyrus nearly jumped at her voice, clearly lost in thought. "Oh, that?" he asked, turning towards her. "It was a message warning me about women."
"Huh?" Ophilia said, louder than she'd meant to, a blush threatening to surface. What on earth did he mean by that?
"What it actually said was that I should be careful how I act toward women," Cyrus continued, sounding like he was reciting an ancient pledge he'd memorized long ago. "Lest I give cause for misunderstandings."
Oh, Ophilia though, her shoulders relaxing. "Well, intelligence such as yours can be very attractive," she blurted out, regretting her words the moment they left her mouth.
He shook his head solemnly. "Please, my dear. A word such as 'attractive' must be kept in reserve for those of great beauty, such as yourself."
Ophilia had been called beautiful before, but never had it carried as much weight as it did then. The blush that had been threatening to surface finally did so. "Erm . . ." she stammered, unsure of what to say next. "I think maybe that's the kind of thing the letter writer was talking about."
Cyrus tilted his head in confusion. "You think so? But I was merely speaking my mind. Am I not allowed to tell a beautiful woman that she is just that?"
Ophilia's face was definitely aflame now. How was he so smart yet so clueless? It bewildered her. "Well . . ." She chose her words carefully, smiling nervously. "Sometimes you can. But maybe in your case, you shouldn't."
"Tsk." He shook his head again, still clearly confused. "I am finding this most difficult to understand."
Ophilia laughed softly and turned away, wondering if he'd ever understand.
The cleric nearly laughed as she came to the realization that nothing had changed since then. He really had no idea what he was doing, did he?
She had noticed it come out with others, too. Cyrus was just so unknowingly charming. He spoke smoothly and complemented others effortlessly - it was no wonder he gained fans nearly wherever he went. Ophilia was far from the only one he had put in an awkward situation.
And yet . . . She looked at the dark-haired scholar, boldly leading the group ahead. If nothing else, at least I have the pleasure of his friendship. It was true he could be difficult at times, but Ophilia was glad to travel with him. He was fascinated with what she had to say about her duty as the Flamebearer, always asking multiple questions when she spoke on the matter. She wasn't necessarily bothered by this, though, because it allotted time for them to spend together. Being brought up with a higher education than many others also benefited Ophilia in her conversations with the scholar.
"You guys see that, too?" Therion said, rousing everyone from their own thoughts. He extended a finger, pointing at a stone chest about two feet tall, sitting in the middle of the path several feet ahead.
Tressa narrowed her eyes as they got closer. "Is that . . . it?" she asked uncertainly, stepping forward. Therion's arm shot out, stopping her.
"Careful," he warned. "It's probably a trap." Noiselessly and almost gracefully, he crept towards the chest, sliding his dagger into his hand. Keeping a cautionary distance, he tapped the chest tentatively with the blade. When nothing happened, he slid it into the crack and gently lifted the lid up. Everyone tensed in anticipation, but once again, nothing happened.
"I think it's safe," Therion said after a few seconds of waiting, "but be on your guard." He raised his dagger and flipped the lid open. Tressa rushed forward, with Cyrus and Ophilia close behind.
"Huh," she faltered, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. It was implicit that everyone had expected coins and jewels. But the contents were so varied that the group was taken aback. Ancient jewelry was scattered around the box, studded with unnameable gems. A faded deck of cards with dragons inked onto the faces was bound by a worn leather cord. Several old, yellowing books were stacked neatly in the corner. Various other trinkets littered the box, but Ophilia was unsure of what they could be.
"Well," Cyrus murmured, crouching over the box, "this isn't quite what I thought the 'treasure' would be, but it'll do just as well."