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It was unnervingly quiet.
They'd fought a skulking fungoid, and fortunately it had only one attack, which was to inflict silence - fortunately everyone's weapons dispatched it relatively fast.
Alfyn had been sure to use herb of clamour to heal everyone after, but for some reason, the tangible silence between them had not been broken.
But, given that the other option was endless rambling by their resident scholar, everyone had ignored it and taken the moment of bliss to keep on walking.
They'd made good progress - they'd made it to Victor's Hollow. Now they were having dinner at the tavern, and once again, it was a mostly silent affair.
No one knew how to break the ice, and the one who mostly did it was absorbed in his new book.
"Cyrus."
Cyrus glanced up at Ophilia, who had her arms crossed.
"No books at the table. Put it away."
Cyrus obeyed without protest, which was another strange thing.
Now, he should start talking without anything to occupy him...
The table remained frigidly silent.
Someone had decided it was a magnificent idea to go with Olberic into the arena.
Which was how they ended up there, trying not to get killed.
Olberic, H'annit and Therion, natural fighters, had seamlessly melded into the battlefield. Alfyn was doing his best, but occasionally he would slip up and perform an illegal move.
They had allowed H'annit's beasts into the arena. Probably because the organisers were scared of the backlash.
Tressa and Ophilia had been banned from entering the arena, so they just sat at the stands with Primrose and Cyrus, who only really had their magic to rely on and thus were suggested to stay back and not be an extra burden to heal.
Occasionally Ophilia's fingers would twitch when someone got injured, but that was honestly the most they got involved - especially since Cyrus wasn't helping at all, constantly being distracted.
To celebrate their victory, they went drinking.
Ophilia and Tressa were given apple juice instead, and they were fine with that.
Everyone was laughing and cheering, except for Cyrus, who sat aside and sipped at his wine, reading quietly.
Ophilia leaned towards Tressa to whisper.
"Strange... is he normally this quiet?"
Tressa shrugged.
"Good morning, Cyrus."
Cyrus glanced at everyone. He sat down in an armchair with a nod.
Concerned expressions from everyone.
"I said, good morning, Cyrus."
Silence.
"Cyrus, are you alright?"
Silence.
The tension in the air was so tangible, it could be cut with a knife.
No one spoke.
"Alright. That thing is massive. Plan, Cyrus?"
Cyrus shook his head.
'You have no plan?"
Another shake.
"I can't read minds, Cyrus, you haven't spoken for the past 5 days. Talk."
Cyrus stared blankly at the beast. He aggressively waved his hands around to cast.
Nothing came out.
With 5 downed, including their healers, they had to flee.
Once they were back at the inn, everyone rounded on Cyrus.
"What is wrong with you!?"
"Did you want us to die? Is that what it is??"
Cyrus did not defend himself. He just sat there with dignity and refine, taking verbal (and some physical) attacks with grace.
Until Alfyn sat up and shoved a bottle at him.
"Drink."
Cyrus took the bottle and shook the elixir around.
"It's not poison."
That was enough to get Cyrus to down it in one shot.
It took some coughing and spluttering, but he eventually straightened back out and handed the bottle back to Alfyn.
"Thanks."
It was enough to send everyone into a frenzy.
"WHAT."
"Cyrus, why didn't you tell us you were silenced?"
Cyrus shuffled awkwardly.
Soothing dust and herb of clamour spread across the battlefield. Cyrus looked up, trying to catch some of it, but it scattered away from him because of the strong gust of wind.
He opened his mouth to ask about it, but closed it again.
They would benefit from his silence, he knew.