"Maps of Sacae and maps of Ilia…a light coat for the plains and a heavy coat with a hood for the tundra…some mines, a few runes, torches and salves." Mark wanted to be self-sufficient during the length of the campaign, and he was glad that Hector had provided him with his own covered wagon to carry it all. Most of his equipment was already loaded and waiting for him at the castle, all that was left were the few odds and ends still in his room. He scratched at his head, running rough hands through his dirty blonde, shoulder length hair. His eyes wandered towards the mirror in the room and he looked himself up and down. Sunken slightly into his face, the steel blue eyes glinted against fair skin. He adjusted the robes, frowning about the tightening shirt underneath. Too much relaxation and Lycia's food had contributed to his growing waistline. But, with an expected diet of rations for the next odd month, hopefully it would recede to a better spot.
Three weeks ago, his old friend had approached him with his concerns over Bern's recent military actions. Hector had asked him to be his chief strategist for the campaign to liberate the conquered nations and take the eventual fight to Bern. Mark's plan involved leaving from here in Araphan and going through Eturnia with the troops that had been assembled from the Lycian marches. From there, their work would begin in Sacae, liberating the tribes that were being held captive, and then move north into Ilia to retake those frozen lands. With the combined might of a united and free Elibe, siege on Bern would be a matter of attrition.
He closed his old war chest and scanned his small room one last time. His pack was full and he was about to go, but he was missing one last thing. He checked his dresser, around the wash bin, and bent down to check under his bed, but he just couldn't seem to fin-…
"You might be looking for this?" Mark froze as he heard the voice of his old friend coming from the doorway of his room. He turned to face Lucius; blonde hair tied back, with blue robes wrapped in his silk shawl. Clenched in his hands was a length of chain with a metal object on the end of it. It was a ring, forged of silver and with amethysts inlaid around it. Mark had found it on the Dread Isle, and was forged before even the Scouring. A look of disappointment was on the holy man's face as he gazed at the tactician. "I could have sworn I told you to get rid of this." He took a few steps further into the room. The ring swayed back and forth on the chain in rhythm with Lucius' walking as Mark stood up. Lycia's tactician swiped for the ring midair but his desire was pulled away from him. The band wasn't just some bauble Mark kept around for old time's sake.
"There's no harm in keeping it. I might actually put it on a lucky ladies finger someday." Mark gave a hollow laugh, but Lucius' face remained unchanged and it shut any humor out of the conversation quickly. "I'm…I'll be passing through Sacae on this expedition. I thought I could…could leave it where it belongs. Be rid of it." He stretched his arm out, half demanding and partly begging for the ring back, with his eyes fixed firmly on the dusty floor. He felt the cool metal fall into his hand and he clenched his closure in his fist. "Thank you."
Lucius sighed and let the chain leave his hand and it hang from Mark's. "I just pray that St. Elime watches over you, my friend." Lucius embraced Mark and the two started to descend the stairs. Mark took the chain and wrapped it around his neck, folding the ring under his coat and shirt. The children of the orphanage were playing all around the house and surprisingly behaving themselves. When Lucius founded the home for the unwanted six years ago, Mark was at the opening and blessing. Now, the home had saved so many children from across Lycia from a life on the street. He had asked the acolyte to lodge there in the weeks leading up to the start of the campaign, and it was time he left.
Wading through the sea of kids, Mark finally found the mess of green hair that belonged to his godchild, sitting in the corner and face deep into a book. As if feeling he was being watched, Lugh's eyes strayed from the tome and he jumped up when he saw his onlooker. "Is that one of my tomes you're reading through?" Lugh closed the book and held it at his side, head down, and dirt covering his yellow robes. He nodded before the aspiring animist held the tome up, Mark taking it and leafing through the pages.
Niechpiekielneognie
Glazurato pole izniszczyć tych,
przede mnąi wysłaćje naczło
wiekasamegopromu.
Elfire? Complex magic, even for himself. He had only begun to start on any spells more andvanced than summoning lightning. His mother and father would be proud, wherever they were. "I'm going to be gone for a long time, Lugh. I need you to watch the other children and help the Father while I'm gone, alright?" He gave Lugh a long embrace, knowing it may be a while before they saw each other aain, before he walked out the door. As he walked through the garden, Mark thought to himself to himself how nice all the flowers were coming in. The Ostian roses were blooming, and the violets from the Western Isles were finally taking. Mark's mind was so focused on the flora, as well as the preliminary plans he had cooked for entering Sacae,all while wondering if Eturnia would help with treinforcements, that he almost ran into a crimson figure. Clad fully in armor, he stood with an ivory stallion at his side, and a lance hanging from his back. Realizing who stood before him, Mark's mood soured immediately, and all good thoughts quickly leaving his mind. "The Lycian Coalition sent me here to see to it you arrived on time...and in a good condition" Kent spoke, removing his helmet to reveal steel eyes and stern, set face.
It had been years since the two men had come face to face, and if you asked either man that was many years too soon. "So, I have the honor to be escorted by the Grand Lord Steward of Caelin?" Kent's fist clenched but his expression never changed. "I take it we'll be riding together for the next months then?" "Well then, let's get going then. I'd like to see the troops that i'll be commanding for this liberation opera-..."
An explosion of noise cut Mark off. Not an explosion, though, so much as a single sound. A rattling roar that echoed through the air, a cry that both men had heard before. A dragon? How? They both realized that old grudges would have to be put aside, at least for now. How was there a dragon here in Araphan? The paladin and the tactician both lept onto the horse at Kent's side, and they raced towards the sound of the roar; Araphan's castle. On the way, Mark drew the tome he had taken from Lugh and readied it for whatever was to come. He was hoping he was strong enough now to wield it.
As they approached the castle, they saw no dragon, but there was a wide hole in the wall of the mightly place, and all hell had begun. Armored knights clashed with axe wielding fighters, soldiers dodged bolts of lightning, and arrows sailed through the sky. In the middle, Hector stood in a circle of Bern soldiers, a claymore as big as the horse Mark rode upon now clutched in his hands. He was swinging the mighty hither and yon, taking limbs and heads at will. Kent raced through to the defacto leader of Lycia, impaling soldiers upon his spear one after another. Mark leapt from the horse and brandished his tome, striking at other mages and shamans that flooded the battlefield for the Bern forces. Arcs of fire spewed from his hand and engulfed people in front of him. The prescense of the additional veterens seemed to change the tide of the fight, and the Lycian forces were able to push Bern back in victory. The Bern forces scattered and a cheer went out among the soldiers
"Get the townspeople to safety! Find the commanders and take them alive!" Kent rode south, chasing the retreating invaders, leaving Mark in the middle of the chaos. Hector strode through the troops as he spoke, until he found his old friend from the wars against the Black Fang, and clapped him on the shoulder "I'm going for the beast. I'll need your help" Mark and the Lord of Ostia strode back through into the Castle, tome and Sword drawn."I was just getting my armor ready when I heard the roar from the third story." Lord Ostia spoke as they walked. Hector looked at the weapon in his hand and dropped the mass of cold iron and leather. From his back he drew a mighty axe, with a wicked curve that was familiar to Mark. It was Wolf Beil reforged, larger and heavier it than before. No blows were to be held back in this fight, it seemed.
The doors to the grand foyer were open and the the pair ran up to find a horrible sight. Before them were the bound figures of the marquesses of Lycia. Few of them were still alive and pressed against the far wall by spear point, held there by fear of a similar fate to their counterparts. There were four outstanding figures in the room, two tall blonde men, one brunette slender figure and a purple haired woman shawled in crimson. Hector's axe was bared as he charged into the room, but he and Mark had failed to notice a fifth figure that stood, nearly hidden, amongst them. An almost timid figure, covered entirely in red robes turned to face the charging Lord. In a flash, that figure beared upon the man, the timidity replaced by a dragon, red, rage filled and breathing fire. In an instant, Hector was consumed in a pillar of flames, a scream and the clanging of metal hitting the floor, echoing in the foyer. When the fire ceased Hector lay, singed and quivering, in a pile where the flames had halted him.
"Hector!" Mark began to run to his friend, when a sharp pain erupted in his gut. Losing his balance from the pain, he fell down the stairs, caught several edges on the way down, and landing at the base of the stairs. Cringing, he saw a bolt of lightning sticking from his stomach. The tactician rose to one knee, putting too much effort into tring to focus his sight. The tallest of the men lifted Hector onto his shoulders and carried him away, as the others approached Mark with the sorceress at their side, tome in hand. He recognized the man; Zephiel, king of Bern. Harder now than he was when they last met. Even harder than their first meeting, in the palace that night of his would be assasination.
"Mark Bincagia, Baron of Ryerde. I was hoping you would show up. To be honest, I was hoping we wouldn't miss you." Mark breath was labored, heavy from the pain. The lightning had dissipated from his stomach, the wound cauterized from the bolt's heat. The burning pain remained, however,"But now that you're here we can be sure that we'll hve no problems with Eturnian resistance."
"You...you'll be stopped, Zephiel" Mark managed to gasp out. The king scoffed at the idea that there was anyone left to stop him. He turned and began to walk away, pausing briefly at his woman companion.
"Brunya, he's all yours." With those words he strode towards the door that Hector had been carried out of, the brunette following close behind. Bern's greatest sorceress pulled out a tome of ice, and Mark steadied himself on his other knee and rose up to look at the woman. Regret now filling him that his greatest work as a strategist had been cut short before it had even and ice surrounded Brunya as she unleashed it towards Mark. He closed his eyes and readied himself for death, but suddenly all flashed a bright white and Mark felt a dropping sensation in his stomach. He opened his eyes and saw the world rise above him. All was shadows, dancing about him as the last bits of light dissappeared above his head. The darkness became too much, his thoughts left him, and Mark slipped from conciousness.
"Chrom...we HAVE to do something"
"What do you suppose we do?"
"I...I dunno..."
Voices. He heard voices. That meant he was...alive? Mark opened his eyes and saw two figures standing over him. Hector? Who...who was Hector? Why did this person remind him of someone named...who were these people...and who...?
"I see you're awake now."
"Hey there."
"There's better places to np than on the ground you know. Give me your hand."