Hey guys! Welcome back to Hear a Tale! First things first, review time!
Thanks so much to CitrusChickadee for reviewing! Therion (the snarky jerk(tm) himself XD) and Primrose are both already fun to write for on their own, but together? Even better :) I'm glad you enjoyed!
With that, on with the tale!
Relevant Events: Cyrus' Chapter Two
28. Sorrow
Across the several times he had shared a room at an inn with Cyrus, Olberic had learned one definitive thing about the professor - unless asleep, he hardly ever was able to sit still. Olberic had gradually grown accustomed to Cyrus' frequent pacing, muttering to himself, and fiddling with pages of his various tomes, to the point where the warrior hardly noticed such mannerisms anymore.
As a result, it was particularly striking when Olberic entered the room at Quarrycrest's inn to find Cyrus perched statue-still at the edge of one of the beds, staring mutely down at the floor.
Olberic did a quick double take while he lingered in the doorway, but when he looked back, the scene had not changed. In fact, on his second glance, he only noticed more troubling features - the scholar's eyes were downcast, and his mouth twisted in a grimace. His hair was out of its usual neat ponytail, instead hanging limply across his shoulders, and if Olberic looked closely, he could see traces of blood around the tips of a few of Cyrus' laced fingers, as though he'd picked too hard at the skin around his nails in a fit of anxiety.
The warrior couldn't recall a time when he'd seen the scholar like this before. He wasn't even entirely sure what to make of the sorry sight before him.
Olberic gulped and glanced back into the hallway, noting the three other closed doors clustered around his and Cyrus' room. All six other travelers were in for the night, it seemed, and he did not want to risk knocking and disturbing them, in case they were already asleep. No matter how much better suited someone like Alfyn or Ophilia would have been to this sort of situation, it seemed that Olberic was on his own for the time being.
Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he was better with words.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself as though for battle. After quietly closing the door behind him, Olberic strode across the room and stood in front of Cyrus, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. The scholar did not stir, seemingly oblivious to the warrior's approach.
Olberic lifted a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.
No response.
"...Cyrus."
Finally, the scholar jolted, as though suddenly reviving from a deep slumber. "Hm!? O-Oh, Olberic…my apologies, I did not see you there…"
"So I've gathered." Olberic arched an eyebrow. "There is…something troubling you, I presume?"
"Oh, w-well…" Cyrus frowned and ran a hand through his uncharacteristically tangled hair. "I…suppose you could say that, yes. Though…" He shooks his head firmly. "No. No, I…I needn't trouble you with my rambling thoughts. It is getting quite late, and we leave for Saintsbridge in the morning. Perhaps a good night's sleep is simply in order…"
"Just so," Olberic agreed. "And yet…forgive me for saying so, but you do not seem capable of such a thing at the moment."
"Oh? Er…w-whatever do you mean?"
Olberic's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the other man's pale complexion and wavering attempt at a smile. "...you're shaking," he observed bluntly, "and up until a moment ago, you'd scarcely moved at all for longer than I've ever seen you manage. There is no shame in your distress, Professor. But…locking dark thoughts within yourself will only cause you more pain in the end."
He knew from experience, after all.
"I…ahem…" Cyrus sighed, shoulders slumping. "I…suppose you are right. To be honest…I may still be feeling a bit…perturbed by what Therion and I stumbled upon in the sewers today." He frowned, wringing his hands. "Though perhaps that might be a bit of an understatement…I must confess, I'm really quite shaken…"
Olberic's brow furrowed. "I cannot say that such a thing surprises me," he said. "Blood experiments on captured, drugged victims…I can scarcely imagine an act more vile."
"Indeed…it was the darkest sort of magic I've ever seen, to be sure." The scholar took a deep breath and pressed the bases of his palms into his squeezed-shut eyes. "At the time, I was simply caught up in the mystery, and acted without much acknowledgment of the horrors I was witnessing…Therion could attest to that, I'm sure, considering the amount of times he had to fight to get my attention. Now, though…" He shook his head. "I…cannot help wondering how many prior victims we were far too late to save. How long has this been going on…? How many innocent people have succumbed to that man's mad whims? To say nothing of the burdens that even the survivors will bear on their hearts and minds, surely for the rest of their lives…it all turns my stomach to even think about, and yet I cannot banish the notions from my thoughts. The curse of an overactive mind, I suppose…"
The scholar dipped his head, still covering his eyes, and for a moment, he looked far older and wearier than his thirty years should have allowed. Olberic's eyes widened slightly, and the corners of his mouth pulled back in a grimace as the other man's sorry state pulled vivid memories back to the surface.
It was almost like looking into a mirror.
Olberic too had spent countless hours dwelling upon the lives that had been lost during the fall of Hornburg. The battle had seemed to instantly age him by decades, and in the time following it, he had agonized endlessly over the possibility that he could have done something, anything to change the outcome for the better. As one of the few survivors of that bloody day, the warrior would remain forever haunted by the knowledge that, despite his strength, he could not save king, country, or comrade.
At the very least, he hoped he could convince Cyrus to avoid following his example.
"Sorrow does not suit you, friend," Olberic said quietly. "Mourn the losses, then lift your head and keep walking forward. I'm afraid there is nothing you can do for those who have fallen…but continuing on your own journey may prevent further death."
The scholar frowned thoughtfully, slowly lowering his hands away from his eyes. "That…is true…"
Olberic nodded. "The rest of us will remain by your side as well. I understand that grief is not so easily banished…but I believe you'll find that having allies to stand with you will help ease the weight. That is…" He paused, then exhaled. "That is…what I have found to be true, of late."
Cyrus was silent for a moment, then gradually began nodding, the tension in his shoulders beginning to fade. "Yes…yes, you…you are right, of course. I thank you, Sir Olberic…" The professor took a deep, calming breath. "I'm afraid I had nearly lost myself there, for a moment…"
"I understand. Such horrors…are not meant to be witnessed by mortal eyes."
"Indeed…" Cyrus cleared his throat and stood, shoulders held straight as he nodded briskly in Olberic's direction. "Thank you, once again, for helping to clear my mind of this gloom. I expect that the ghastly things I laid eyes on in that sewer will stay with me for quite some time, and yet…I cannot merely shut down and wallow in my own regret. Gideon may be dead, but for all we know, there are more like him still running amok in Orsterra. I must find that tome…and in the process, prevent its contained knowledge from enabling such dark deeds ever again. Now, let us see, Odette said that the translated copy likely originated in Stonegard…"
Cyrus soon took to striding back and forth across the room, one hand against his chin and Olberic all but forgotten. The warrior smiled and edged past the pacing professor, making his way towards his own bed. On most other nights, Cyrus' constant muttering to himself might have been a detriment to Olberic's ability to sleep, but tonight, Olberic found himself not minding the noise so much. The normality of the action was almost comforting, even, as it indicated that the stalwart scholar had not been wholly disheartened by his harrowing experience in the sewers. There might be more nights of distress like this in the future, but for now, Cyrus had returned to himself.
Despite it all, Olberic knew, the man was going to be alright.
See you guys next time for Tale 29: Happiness!