Eight Intertwined

99 - Trails

Cyrus hadn't been able to sit still since the travelers returned to town. With Morlock dead, the journey through his mansion had been easy enough since even his few loyal guards wound up backing down, seemingly not seeing much of a point in fighting for a dead man. Cyrus had initially yearned for the safety of the inn, hoping that perhaps the simplicity of an inn room would help him to choke down everything that had happened over the course of the last few days. It was incredible just how fast the night changed, and the group's time in Quarrycrest had proven it. 

Cyrus had never liked blood. Perhaps that was one reason he had gravitated toward magic as his primary proxy of combat. He had always struggled to lift heavier weapons, but it was a blessing in disguise at the end of the day. He couldn't stand the sight of blood, though he was willing to force his anxieties down in the name of the greater good. Still, he couldn't seem to forget the way blood had fallen to the ground around Morlock and Omar's injuries, and he couldn't tear away the image of Alfyn bloodied and collapsed against the wall either. H'aanit had offered to take care of looking after Alfyn when she realized just how nauseous Cyrus was getting, and the scholar had gladly allowed her to handle the matter. He needed some fresh air, though he doubted any air was going to be fresh enough to keep him from feeling like he was going to be sick at any given moment. 

"Cyrus!" 

The sound of Odette's voice cut through Cyrus' thoughts immediately, and he turned around to see the blonde woman approaching him. Each step was purposeful and long, like she couldn't even wait the few extra seconds it would have taken her to reach Cyrus at her regular pace. "What in the world did you do?" she asked him softly even though he could tell by the way her expression was set that she already knew the answer. 

"I..." Cyrus tried to begin, but the words refused to come the way they should have. He hesitated before sighing. "We fought back against Morlock, and I believe that Quarrycrest will fall into new hands soon."

"I heard about it already," Odette told him with a frown. "Morlock is dead. A few of his guards ran out into the rest of town screaming about how he had been killed. You would be amazed at just how many people started cheering when they heard the news. Morlock did a great job of keeping everyone in this town brainwashed, but now that he's gone, he can't tempt them with false promises anymore."

"How much did you know of him when he was alive?" Cyrus asked carefully. "You've been living in Quarrycrest for quite a while now, so I can only imagine--"

"I know enough about him," Odette assured him with a heavy frown. "He's done too many awful things for me to count, so I'm not going to bother keeping score. He takes advantage of people so that he can stay on top. Well, he took advantage of people. Now, he's not able to do that anymore... Though I do have to ask... Why in the world did you go so far? I didn't think you of all people would ever decide to incite rebellion."

"Morlock was responsible for much more than you know," Cyrus told Odette. "I imagine most of the people who were here in Quarrycrest at the time of his greatest crimes have since moved on specifically because they wanted to avoid him. Those who are here now are no doubt unaware of the truth or too focused on trying to stay afloat that they can't bring themselves to act on their knowledge."

"What are you talking about?" Odette questioned, her words growing tense and heavy. "What do you know that I don't, Cyrus?"

Just like that, it all came tumbling out. Cyrus told her all about the way Morlock had waged war against Saintsbridge in the name of keeping his labor practices for as long as he could. Odette could only stare on in horror as he told her everything he knew about the way Morlock had razed Creek to the ground with Ophilia only surviving because of some vague miracle. It had all happened too fast for anyone to process what was happening until it was too late. Nobody had known Morlock would strike until he had already waged war, and by the time anyone could lick their wounds, he had already been forced onto his back foot. He had been smarter since then, instead just hiding the truth of his actions rather than actually pursuing conflict. He wouldn't be able to win through force of arms, so he used the other weapon he had at his disposal: words. Unfortunately, they were incredibly effective against the people of Quarrycrest who had no way of knowing better that he was lying to them. Nobody had realized what was happening all this time, but now, they didn't need to know. Morlock was gone, and he would never return to the town again.