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Huh. If Cyrus had been even a bit more distracted, he would not have noticed the stranger staring at him.
Sadly, it was no uncommon event for that to happen. He supposed he could see it as a compliment. Being a professor at the royal academy did not grant much fame, but most folks from Atlasdam knew him. Whether it be from spontaneous trips to the library or some other random event. But, this man certainly did not look as if he were from around these parts. Or from around this country for that matter. That blue, most likely Highlandish, tunic may look good on him (very good, if Cyrus were to be honest), but it made the stranger stand out like a sore thumb
And even if that could not be counted as decisive evidence: he was carrying a sword out in the open.
Every good citizen of Atlasdam knew better than to carry weaponry out in the open. It was an unlawful act, even if the punishment was minimal for first offenses. Although most who disrespected the rule were either unknowing or did not care. The law had been adopted a few hundred years ago after the nasty assassination of the then king. So, any poor sod unlucky enough to be unaware of the history of this city found themselves in a bit of a pickle.
The man’s confused yet pitiful look was just enough to warrant a bit of his attention.
“Excuse me?” Cyrus asked as he approached the stranger, who was now staring at some random crow, “Are you aware that you cannot carry weaponry in the borders of the city?”
The man turned around, red in the face. Oh dear, perhaps he had a fever? “Nay, I was unaware. My apologies.”
The statement sounded genuine, something Cyrus had not come to expect from visitors who broke this particular law. Most were just a bunch of drunk bastards that had stumbled into Atlasdam like a fool, or just stubborn men who could not be convinced except by jailtime.
“Ah, it is of no big importance, I do not enforce the law myself. Just thought I should mention.”
“Well, my thanks, I suppose.”
“The name is Cyrus Albright, professor at the royal academy.” Something in him had just enough sense to not tell the whole truth. “Who might you be?”
Somehow, the stranger seemed unable to answer the question, beginning the stutter profusely. Huh, perhaps he did suffer from amnesia. That would at least explain the random staring.
“Berg.” The man finally settled for, scratching the hilt of his sword. Cyrus could not decide if that was meant to be threatening or just a nervous twitch.
“Berg the what?”
“Berg the hedge knight.”
Well, that at least explained the sword. It was a gargantuan thing, resembling an Hornburgian executioner sword. (Most likely a copy, why would this stranger have a real Hornburgian sword?) But, Cyrus would be a fool to not question the reply. It had been made hastily, and Berg seemed to be stressed about something. Yet, something about the man made Cyrus want to trust him, even if he was unable to pinpoint exactly what.
“I suppose you do not hail from here?”
“Nay, the Highlands. Just traveling through here to the Woodlands for a tournament”
“Huh, I am also supposed to go in that direction.”
The man frowned “But, your profession was as a professor, you said?”
Berg was seemingly more observant than he had expected. Even with Cyrus’s strange will to trust the man, he wasn’t sure how to bring the sentence “I got sent away on a sabbatical due to rumors that I am in a relationship with the princess who is, in fact, a minor,” could be brought lightly and without scaring any well-thinking human away.
“I…” Great, seemed like his ability to give a normal excuse had disappeared on him. “I must retrieve a tome from Quarrycrest.”
“Huh. Never knew that was in a professor’s job description.” It absolutely wasn’t, but if Berg was willing to believe that, Cyrus would take it.
“Sometimes improvisation is indeed necessary for this field. Speaking of fields of work, how did you become a hedge knight?”
Cyrus could physically see Berg stiffen up, a clear signal he was lying. He needed to know why.
“I became dissatisfied with the living conditions as a knight. I could not handle the stress, so I deserted my liege and my home.”
That was not totally impossible. Knighthood was quite over-glorified by the youth. It was hard work and most of all: deadly. But, something about the answer felt mixed. Sad, even. As if there was a tirade of emotions behind the reply. Cyrus knew well enough he could not get all those out with the time he was given.
So, he just needed to make some more time.
“Interesting. Now, I might be quite forward with this,” Oh, he, was definitely being forward, he knew it well. But, he wanted answers. Besides, the man seemed like he could be a valuable ally. “But, do you mind if I tap along with you? I need to go to the Cliftlands myself, you see-”
“Alright.”
Huh? Well, at least that made his job easier. His new, self-assigned, job of figuring out who this man truly was.
“Great!”
The party Cyrus began journeying with expanded quite quickly.
It all began in the Frostlands, where a desperate cleric had needed them to help fetch a flame. A flame, they later learned the hard way, which was not that easy to get. That confrontation is where Cyrus learned the first two things about Berg, he was persistent in helping people, and far too good with a sword to just be a hedge knight.
Cyrus could not claim to be an expert in the art of the sword, far from it actually. He could never wield a weapon with the strength Berg displayed. But, he could judge a few things. The way the man sliced foes to pieces with minimal effort made it look easy. And how in the Hells Berg wielded a sword that was not even supposed to be used in combat in combat was beyond him.
It made Cyrus draw another conclusion, Berg was a very bad liar. But, without any decisive evidence that he could use, he was at a dead end.
And as their travels continued, they met more people. A dancer in the Sunlands, the odd duo of a snarky thief and an apothecary in the Cliftlands, even a little girl who claimed she would become the best merchant out there. Eight people in total now, all with their own problems that were a lot more urgent than his book and Berg’s competition that would start in a month.
So, could he use that as an excuse why in Alephan’s name he was in a forest in the Highlands? Probably.
The hunter of their group, H’aanit, had her fair share of problems as well. The most prominent being her missing master, who was most likely in this forest, or so she claimed. Sadly, with Cyrus’s newfound talent of setting forests on fire (He swore, last time was a total accident), he was “convinced” to go help out, if the need for combat were to come up.
Which did present a nice opportunity to talk to Berg, who shared his fate of being dragged from place to place.
“Berg, I have a query.” The comment was directly shushed by H’aanit, perhaps he did talk a bit too loud?
“Alright,” the man sighed, Cyrus could not really blame him for the snark. The poor soul had the idea of taking most of the watch last night. Which, in retrospect, is just one’s hubris speaking. (He could testify, perhaps staying up all night reading tomes was a fun activity, but the headache the next day? Not worth it.) But, maybe the sleep deprivation could be utilized to get an honest answer for once.
“Where did you learn to use a sword like that?” Cyrus asked, a bit more silent now as to not provoke H’aanit. (and especially Linde, he preferred not to become snow-leopard food any day soon.)
“Knight training.” There it was again. Berg’s hand went down to the hilt of his sword. Berg may have the most obvious nervous twitches out of everyone in their party. And the lack of sleep was certainly not helping his case.
“Huh, where did you have said training exactly?”
“Hornburg.”
“And why were you in Hornburg?”
Only now did Berg seem to realize his mistake, as he grasped the hilt of his sword firmly. With a bit of scrutiny, Cyrus could easily deduce that there was no other reason to do so, except if it were a nervous twitch. Got him.
“…Exchange program,” he muttered, speeding up his pace so Cyrus could not keep up without looking like a running fool.
Sadly, that was the only thing Cyrus was able to get out of him for the rest of the trip, as Berg was now being strategically avoidant of questions. Only giving nods of agreement in return to countless queries. Even their usual shared topics of interest in military history or Cyrus’s studies did not seem to spark any interest.
(Somewhere in him, the reaction hurt)
But, he got his answer. Berg had something to hide. Now he just needed to figure out what.
It had been a week now since that fateful slip-up, and Cyrus was beginning to feel worse about his investigation.
Berg may be lying about something, but it did not take away he was actually a wonderful person. Whether it be about some random historical topic or the chemical composition of a new rock, he was one of the first people that had never interrupted Cyrus’s rants. It made him feel something… unfamiliar, but good nonetheless. Admiration, maybe? Perhaps it was just the feeling of a good, platonic, friendship? Yeah, that must be it.
And that is why him reading through an old Hornburgian military registry felt more like privacy invasion than an actual investigation.
Luckily (or sadly, if Cyrus’s feelings got a chance to speak), he had not found any Bergs registered in the army. Which confirmed his suspicion of that being just an alias. But, armed with only the hints of “was a knight once” and “is good with a sword”, Cyrus was left with about 100 names he had to go over if he wanted to figure this mystery out.
Alas, he was not one to stop searching when faced with non-viable odds.
He had gotten a few possible profiles down, two to be exact. First, a man named Erhardt. He fit most criteria, except his physical description did not match in the slightest. Only if Berg had decided to cut his hair and dye it in the past 8 years, it could not be him. The second candidate was another man named Olberic Eisenberg, who was, as described in this tome, a perfect match. But, was pronounced dead a few years ago on grounds that they just could not find him anywhere.
Great, two impossible options. What to do-
“Cyrus Albright, I swear if you are still here I will personally murder you!” a voice scoffed behind him.
Primrose, oh dear, he had messed up. As some sort of odd help after Cyrus had almost set her and the rest of the party on fire due to the fact he had forgotten to sleep the night before (In his defense, that magic tome had been very enthralling), she had taken it upon herself to make sure he slept.
And what she meant by help was murder threats and the most reliable 2 am timer on this continent.
“You can try, but it won’t help your case of not being set aflame!” he yelled back as a last defense, but he could already hear the door of the inn’s study being snapped shut and very angry footsteps coming towards him.
“What in Sealtigce’s name can be so important that you are still here?” Primrose asked, looking over his shoulder at the registry.
“Do you want the whole truth or the short version of it?” That was the standard question most of his friendships stood upon. Cyrus was not oblivious enough to be unaware of the bored expressions when he burst into yet another two-hour rant.
“With you, short versions do not exist.”-She grabbed one of the chairs that had been stacked in the corner, sitting down.-” Pray tell, why are you still up?”
And so Cyrus did. He told everything, their first meeting, the talk in the forest, and his theory on who Berg truly was. Even his own mixed feelings got a place in the narrative. At the end of the story, Primrose, surprisingly, instead of being shocked, was laughing loudly enough to assure half the inn had been woken.
“I am sorry,” he scraped his throat, “But I am unsure why this is comedic to you.”
After a few minutes of more painful laughing, she finally calmed down.
“Cyrus Albright, I cannot believe how much of a fool you are.”
He frowned, “Pardon?”
“You, first and foremost, have launched a stupid investigation into the poor sods life with no clue where to start-”
“-I have a clue!” he pointed at the military registry, but it was no use, Primrose mercilessly continued on.
“-You then proceed to deprive yourself of sleep doing so, and thirdly, you catch feelings for the man you are attempting to investigate? It is hilarious.”
Cyrus became acutely aware of the heat creeping into his face, “I-I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
“If you want to stay in denial, be my guest,” she snickered, “Just, at least be honest enough with yourself to know that this is going nowhere.”
She, sadly, did have a point there. It seemed that this idea had come to a dead end. Perhaps his suspicions were totally ungrounded and he was just being dumb-
No, he knew for sure that there was something fishy here.
“Perhaps it is going nowhere at the moment, but I assure you, I shall solve this mystery.” Cyrus finally said.
“Yeah, yeah, tell that to the judge. Now, go to sleep or I am going back on that threat.”
He did not resist.
Another thing Cyrus realized about Berg was that the man just could not use any magic.
If Orsterra had never been blessed with the gifts of magic, he was unsure where it would be now. Elemental spells were essential to all professions, some even more than others. Tavern owners used ice spells to make their establishments feel cooler in the sweltering summer sun, bards used fire to entertain the masses on dark nights, and hunters used lightning magic to paralyze their prey. It was a simple rule, everyone, whatever your profession may be, knew at least a bit of magic.
Well, the exception being Berg apparently.
It had only become noticeable after yet another fight, one of the more terrifying ones. Well, if fighting a giant, hungry, and first and foremost deadly wolf, could be described as “terrifying”. The creature had been able to evade H’aanit’s arrows with ease, even an impromptu forest fire he and Therion had caused (this time not on accident) was not enough to kill it and its wolf henchmen.
The animal was perhaps the closest to death Cyrus had ever come.
So, as the wolf’s claw swiped Berg against a tree like he was a ragdoll, just after pushing Cyrus away from that place, he should definitely not have cried out as he did.
But, the non-emotional and more analytical part of his brain could not help but notice that Berg still had not used any spells. First, he had just assumed that the man was holding back. Why go the extra mile by using magic if your sword is enough? But, now as he lay against that tree with a nasty wound to the head that made Cyrus’s heart clench, there could only be one reason.
Berg did not know magic.
Luckily, as all seemed lost, the huntress’s arrow finally struck true, piercing itself in the monster's eye. And with a bit of lighting magic at their side, the monster was no match for them anymore. After finally getting everyone, including Berg’s unconscious body, he should have been able to relax.
But, of course, he couldn’t. His theory had just gained yet another point of discussion which required testing and comparison.
And, as now had become tradition, the new information had to be told to Primrose.
“So, what you are saying,” she finally spoke up after he told his story, “You think he cannot use magic?”
“I see no other possibility, indeed,” he sighed.
“Well, if that is the case, that wild investigation of yours might hold ground.”
Cyrus frowned. Is Primrose saying he is correct? That was certainly new. She had insisted since the moment she heard about the theory that he was just stressing himself out over nothing. “How so?”
“When I was younger, before father died,” he could hear the pain in her voice. It took all his self-control and curiosity to not apologize profusely for forcing her to tell this. “I had my fair share of lessons military history. Anyways, I once heard a story from one of the teachers that the highest-ranking knights of Hornburg were feared throughout the land, not only because of their might, but because they had attained it without the use of any magic.”
“Huh,” he had also heard that a few times, but the thought had not come to his mind.
“So, perhaps our Berg might have a higher ranking military status than he lets on.”
After that talk, Cyrus directly decided to check if this new criterion matched the possible profiles. They did, both men had apparently been quite famous, living legends even. The blazing and unbending blades of Hornburg. He needed to negate at least one of them to make sure he had the right man.
A little plan came to mind.
The plan had to be halted for a week due to the unfortunate event of almost getting killed by his ex-employer, but as the group settled into the inn at victor’s hollow, Cyrus knew it was time.
The steps to success were supposed to be easy, go to Berg’s room, talk to him, mention this new “research” about the Hornburgian military’s status just before the kingdom’s fall, and see if there was any recognition on his face. Or, maybe, if he was really lucky, the man would just confess his true identity of the bat. The plan was logical, it was simple, and more importantly: It was the best course of action.
Yet, he just couldn’t bring himself to open the damned door.
Something in him stirred as he thought about the countless possible outcomes of this talk. Perhaps Berg would hate him for prying into his past? He didn’t seem like the type to do so, but one could never be too sure. (Especially when the person in question had been lying to you for the past months.) Cyrus may be curious, but Berg was his friend, a person that gone to hell and back with him. Whatever knowledge he would obtain could never be equal in worth to driving a drift between them.
But, he needed answers. He could not sit here in denial and ignore the truth forever.
Cyrus practically threw the door to Berg’s room, already happy he managed to do that. Great, now there was no way back.
“Hey, Berg-” he finally took a good look around the room. It was just the standard inn layout, with the few adjustments of Berg’s personal possessions lying around. What truly stomped him mid-sentence was the two facts he was now confronted with.
One, Berg was nowhere in this room, and two, there was a clearly Hornburgian brassard on the desk.
Well, the brassard would not be out of the normal to the untrained eye. But as someone who had taken quite the interest in Hornburgian military uniforms in the past week, Cyrus knew its intended meaning.
Specifically, the fact that this one was worn by high-ranking knights.
This, oh this was just splendid! The longer he tried to find answers, the more confused Cyrus became. That just did not make sense, out of everything bit of info he had put himself through, that was the final straw? Berg’s first comment that sparked his interest rang through Cyrus’ mind:
I deserted my liege and my home.
If that was the truth, why in the Hells did he carry such a brassard with him? Sentimental value? And if that was a lie, what was true? Cyrus had searched every tome he could find on the fall of Hornburg. The details were vague, but every single researcher agreed on one thing: A knight of Hornburg itself was the king killer. Speculated identities varied, but all signs seemed to point to that.
Cyrus could only draw one conclusion: Berg had seen something that day. Something that made him turn his back on his true identity, whoever that may be. Something so scandalous, he had hidden it for the past eight years.
And, oh, Cyrus intended to find out what.
If Berg could not be found in his room, he was at the training ground.
Cyrus knew logic well enough, the tournament would start tomorrow at dawn. It was only normal that he could find the man training. A little trip to the inn’s sparring grounds was definitely due.
And, thank Alephan, he was indeed there. But, as he saw Berg sitting on a bench, looking at his sword with such grief, he knew something wasn’t quite right. He could not say he had known Berg his entire life, but for the months they had traveled together, Cyrus had never seen such an expression.
It was enough to make him reconsider his presence on the training field.
Yet, even if his timing wasn’t right, his curiosity needed answers.
“Berg,” Cyrus simply stated as he walked up to the man, who now looked up from his sword, that expression disappearing to be replaced by a friendly smile.
“Oh, greetings, Cyrus. What are-”
“You are hiding something.”
The statement did something Cyrus had not expected: Berg’s face flushed red.
“U-um. What exactly do you mean by that?” he sounded uncharacteristically self-conscious. Well, if getting a reaction out of him was so easy, Cyrus might as well just bluff his way through this awkward hellhole he put himself in.
“I have become aware that you have been lying to me for a while. Now, you can just confess it or I will reveal it myself. Your choice.”
In reality, Cyrus was more panicking on the inside than he was showing. In reality, he had not much to reveal except for the grand statement of “haha, you lying bastard! You were a Hornburgian knight!”
But, if he wasn’t supposed to be the one nervous, Berg was doing the job for the both of them. The man looked like he just saw the destruction of a kingdom on repeat.
“Are… Are you alright?” now, Cyrus was getting kind of worried. Perhaps he had been too rude? In reality, Berg was, of course, at fault here, but it did not stop him from being worried.
“I am quite alright, thank you. But, you are sadly right, I have indeed been lying to you.”
“Oh,” Cyrus let out a nervous chuckle, perhaps that would lighten the mood? He was already happy enough that Berg was becoming more willing to be truthful with him. “Yeah, it was quite simple to figure out that you were a Knight of Hornburg-”
“-I am indeed in love with you.” Berg blurted out, before falling silent.
The two men stared at each other in horror, realizing the fatal error both had just committed.
After two minutes of complete and utter awkward silence, Berg spoke up, “Well, I suppose my confession wasn’t the one you were looking for, was it?”
“It indeed wasn’t,” he barely managed to get out, because oh Alephan save him, how dumb could he have been? Everything started to make a lot more sense now, the sacrifice with the wolf, Primrose’s comments, the just overall niceness.
“But, I cannot say it is unwelcome.”
He could see the shock on Berg’s face, who now seemed a lot less ashamed. But, deep down Cyrus knew he needed answers before even considering such feelings.
“We can talk about that later, first, I need to confirm my statement.”
Berg nodded his head. “Aye, you are right. There are indeed a few more confessions that need to be made.”
“All ears.”
And so Berg began the true story of his life. His rise to fame as a young and talented knight. The fall of Hornburg and the betrayal of his best friend and fellow knight, Erhardt. About how lost everything in one night and how he found the village of Cobbleston. Even the true purpose of his mission came to light, to find that old friend and bring him to justice for the pain he had caused.
And, of course, the most shocking discovery Cyrus had done to date:
Berg’s true name, Olberic Eisenberg.
He could not even say he was surprised, Eisenberg had been one of the most probable profiles. But, the words actually coming from Berg’s…, no, Olberic’s lips felt as reality sinking in. The guilt weighing down on him of what definitely was privacy invasion.
So, Cyrus directly confessed to the whole investigation plan. But, instead of being mad about it, Olberic seemed… happily surprised.
“Huh, did not know I was that obvious about it,” he chuckled.
“Quite! How was I supposed to believe that a hedge knight could chop the head of a creature sent by Aelfric himself clean off?” Cyrus laughed with him, because, oh, how great it felt to know his curiosity had not gotten him in a spot of trouble again!
After a few minutes of reveling in the cleared tension, Olberic suddenly turned solemn once more.
“But, might I suggest returning to the first topic of this conversation? It is alright if you do not return the affection-”
Cyrus cut that sentence short by kissing the man into silence. It was short, barely more than a few seconds, but it was something he knew he should have done a long time ago.
“I-” Olberic barely managed to mutter before Cyrus interrupted him again.
“I think that suffices for an answer.”
“It certainly does.”
Perhaps launching that foolish investigation was the best thing Cyrus Albright could have ever done.