Three burning ships lay behind them, filled with the corpses of Black Fang soldiers that had been sent to take Ninian back to the Dread Isle. The deck of Fargus' ship was slick with the blood of their enemies, and the crew was doing their best to clean the deck. Eliwood had taken the dancer below deck, but Mark and a few others were helping the crew erase the signs there was ever a struggle. From starboard came a melodic whistling, coming from a cheery figure cloaked in red. "You're never one to be off kilter for anything, are you?" The tactician came over with his own brush and began sweeping besides Matthew, who was now brushing the floor in time to his song.
"Me, Mark? Nah, this is all in a day's work for me." Matthew and Mark went on sweeping the deck and the Ostian spy began to sing; it was a song about the future, about hope, and about leaves on the wind. It was a great melody that got Mark humming along. Over the past few weeks, Mark had gotten to know Matthew a lot better, and found a kindred spirit in him. They both liked mixing the food on their plates, enjoyed games involving play on words, both liked to spend their off time reading. Matthew with his historical fictions and Mark with the history tomes from the Lycian libraries. Matthew had been good enough to give him an education on Ostia and Caelin and any other area Mark wanted to learn about. When the deck was clear of all the debris, the pair went below deck and sat down at one of the tables in the wide, central area of the ship. A bottle of wine was procured from the mess quickly, and the pair sat down to their post battle tradition.
"Here's to…" Mark stalled as he thought of who to toast. Typically, they toasted one of their lieges or one of the enemies they fought. But none of their enemy today seemed to deserve the honor, and their commanders had enough nights dedicated to them for a lifetime.
"How about we drink to the better sex." Matthew chimed in, pouring wine into each man's cup. "Here's to women. May there glasses be full, their victories great,-"
"And their patience infinite." Mark finished, bringing his drink up and meeting the Ostian's. Laughing, Matthew brought the cup to his lips and the tactician did the same. Mark coughed a bit as the wine passed his throat, questions of quality in the wine's origins finally coming to him. "Speaking of women," Mark drained his cup with effort and went to pour himself another, "I met Leila when we were in Caelin. Charming girl. I wonder how it was you ever possibly bagged her." The man across from him sighed as he eased back into his chair.
"We met when we were together on a mission in Thria, and I NEVER told you any of this." He looked as stern and serious with his words, and the tactician settled down ready for the story. "It was a simple mission, but I was still as green as Ostian armor, and I needed her help going through with what the mission was. We ended up living together for about…three weeks, I think, in a two room little shack on the outskirts of the city. About two weeks in we realized that there was a connection and after that we requested we be paired together for more missions, and we spent time on our breaks." Matthew poured the bottle dry to the last drop and downed it, before wiping his mouth. "She's been with the Fang for about seven months now. Last week was the first time I've seen her since…Anyway, listen," the spy put his cup down and made sure to lock Mark's eyes with his "I don't claim to know what's going on between you and Lyn, and yes we are going to talk about it now." The thief cut off the prepared denial that would have come from the man opposite of him. "But life is short, and war is bloody. If you were going to say anything, I'd do it sooner than later"
"Matthew…look it's…" Complicated was going to be his next word, before one of the sailors came down the stairs to announce to the bowels of the ship that land was in sight, and that everyone should come up on deck. The two shared a look that told Mark this discussion wasn't anywhere near over, and the pair walked up to the deck of the ship.
The assassins had been driven from the palace, and their leader slain. Concerned that they couldn't find the leader's corpse, Mark was outside in the gardens, meticulously searching for the enemy commander. Chrom claimed to have run Falchion right through his stomach and saw him collapse, but he refused to be convinced he was dead until he saw the proof. "Is there a problem out here, Mark?" Mark spun around, blade drawn and saw Fredereck standing there. He walked around the tactician, with axe in hand. Mark breathed a sigh of relief and sheathed his sword.
"I guess you're starting to rub off on me. I'm out here looking for the enemy." Fredereck chuckled slightly at the notion of Mark the Wary, and the two looked around the garden. They didn't manage to find the ambush leader that Chrom claimed to have slain, but felt it best to make a sweep of the area anyway. From his pocket, Mark produced a pipe, one of the few things he was found with by Chrom on the ground.
"I didn't know you smoked, Mark." Fredereck was walking around bushes, looking at his comrade with a sideways glance. Shrugging with an attitude of 'neither did I', he filled it with tobacco and struck a match. However, as he was about to light the pipe, the tactician heard a rustling in the bushes a few feet away. He glanced over to the knight next to him, who nodded in recognition of hearing it as well. The two slowed their pace, as Mark reached into his robes. In a swift motion, Fredereck launched the axe from his hands into the bush. Instantly, a figure shot from the spot the axe landed, making for the low wall that lead outside the castle walls. A ball of fire was flung towards the intruder, but only managed to singe the tips of his crimson robe. The surprisingly nimble person managed to kick off a tree and leapt neatly up to the edge of the wall, and hoisted himself up. Cursing, Mark had chased after him, but only managed to get a glimpse of the figure descending the other side of the wall. All he could catch was their eyes. They were gold, like the ones that were upon him in the arena. Who was this? Was that really the same pair of eyes from Ferox? Why was he following their group?
"Is something troubling you?" Fredereck inquired towards the silent and uncommonly stern Mark. He dismissed it as nothing, and was informed by the Sheppard that the Exalt and Chrom had decided to make for a secondary palace that was built in times of emergency. They would be leaving in the morning, a few scarce hours from now. Sleep would be useless, as the adrenaline from the fight would keep Mark up for the night. He decided to do some investigations about what Chrom had told him about his father.
He went into the library of the castle and sat himself down with a stack of books. It was a few books that he had determined would be useful for the next few weeks; a book on the history of Plegia, written 3 years ago by a scholar who was originally from Regna Ferox, an older book that claimed to hold the original 77 strategic formations of an old Yllissian general, and a record book from the war between Plegia and Yllisse. He was keenest on the last book and went directly to the section that listed casualties. He was stunned by the numbers, and realized that Chrom didn't exaggerate. His father had sent a half a million people to their deaths. There were no records on how many were killed for the Plegians, but he could only assume the numbers were near similar. He flipped back a few chapters to see the tactics the Exalt and his generals used, and he was even more taken aback. Mages had been ordered to torch Plegian farmlands, and the Pegasus knights were instructed to rain javelins over towns and slay civilians. The war crimes made it no wonder Gangrel saw them as the terror. The door to the library opened and Mark looked up from the book to see Emmeryn herself coming in. In her right hand was a perfectly balanced tray with a teapot and two cups with saucers. Mark immediately snapped the book shut at the sight of her. "Your Excellency! It's late, shouldn't you be asleep?" The lady in front of him smiled warmly at the statement
"I rarely sleep this late. Besides, I had heard from Fredereck that you were here, and I thought I might join you." She walked gracefully, almost gliding, towards his table and rested the tray down. "It's a blend I have imported from Valm in the west. It's really a good flavor and I can't get through stressful times without it." She poured the tea into the cup closest to him and then in the other cup. "I see Chrom mentioned what our Father did during the war." Her eyes traced towards the spine of the book in Mark's hands. "I hope you can understand that I do not share my father's ideologies of conquest and theological mania." She took a sip from her cup and the tactician followed suit. The hot liquid going down his throat and soothing it. It was surprisingly good, and it smelled like uncut grass and odd fruit that relaxed Mark greatly.
"Not at all, milady. From what I've seen and what Chrom and Lissa say, you are a just and beloved ruler." He drank again and the conversation went on. He learned a bit about her early reign, how she eventually turned her people around to her, and the struggles that she had with her people in the early years. He didn't have many stories in particular, but he absorbed all he could of her stories. By 5 AM the pot was empty and the two were laughing over little things like Lissa's hatred of the outdoors and Fredereck's phobia of foreign meats.
"I believe now I know you well, and can trust you well enough Mark," Emmeryn paused to wipe a tear from her eye "to give you an edict from the Exalt herself." Mark straightened up to listen to what she had to say. "I need you to promise me, whatever happens in the days to come, that Chrom and Lissa are safe, over my own safety. Understood?" Mark was slightly taken aback by her request, but could see the seriousness in her face.
"Of course, your Excellency. Only if you make a promise to a humble servant of your kingdom" he stood up to book his books away. "That after this business with Plegia is settled, that we travel to Valm by boat, and have a cup of this tea in the land it is grown." Emmeryn smiled and nodded in her agreement.
The pair couldn't have possibly known that the first promise would be tested immediately, and the latter would never be fulfilled.
The fighting on the island was quick. The enemy here was better trained than those that had assailed them on the ship, but Mark's maneuvering through the forest had given them a significant advantage over the less mobile foes. He made a mental note to thank Florina for bringing Lyn and Guy with him towards the opposite end of the forest ahead of the rest of the army. The leader of the unit that had met them, Uhai, lay bleeding on the ground. He had slashes across his shoulders and stomach, and wouldn't survive, clerical treatment or otherwise. Mark knelt next to him as he looked down upon the warrior, pride stained with blood, with no sign of ego anywhere in his eyes. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this. In another world we may have been allies." The Sacaen coughed out a laugh and looked towards the tactician.
"Mayhaps. Maybe in the next life we will be." He attempted to sit up, but it seemed to cause him too much pain. "'My body is broken. I go to my fathers." Uhai coughed again and blood spilt onto his lips "And even in their mighty company I shall not be ashamed. For I met my end to a worthy foe. Lo, strategist, come closer." Mark sat next to the Trooper and pulled from his robes the flask he had taken from a Laus soldier in Caelin. It was filled with brandy from the ship and he offered it to the dying man out of respect. He grimaced and took it, as Mark unscrewed the top for him. "From here, go south…Turn at the rotted tree. Head…west. There lies the path to the…Dragon's Gate. One more thing, strategist. My horse…" He drained the rest of the flask and his arm went limp. "She belongs to you now, for you have bested me through your mind and you friends…take care of…" With that, the man of the plains passed. Mark closed his eyelids and rose with the flask in his hands.
"Rest now, Uhai Djute." As he rose and folded the empty flask back into his robes, he looked around. Near her dead master was the horse that Uhai had mentioned. Mark approached her and she showed no motions to rebuff or escape. He stroked the chestnut colored mane and looked upon the saddle and found the name "Raphea." Well, Raphea would be taken care of, as he interpreted the dying words as meaning. Not ridden into battle anymore unless truly desperate. Guy assisted him carrying the body towards the east, as was Sacaen tradition, according to the myrmidon. There he would be buried on the highest plot of land possible, so his spirit could greet the rising sun every morning. When he was buried, they returned to the group and Mark informed Eliwood of what the trooper had relayed to him, and they agreed as a group to take his words as truth. When the party started off, Mark noticed that there was something amiss. Matthew, usually one to bring up the rear, was at the lead of the group, striding even past Hector and Eliwood. The tactician caught up to the spy. "Hey…are you alright? I…I heard what happened…" Matthew just continued to walk forward, seemingly without registering what was said to him. "About what we were talking about on Fargus' boat, I-"
"We just need to get the job done Mark. That's all that matters." He strode forward through the fog, quickly out pacing Mark. Deciding it was best to leave him be for now, the tactician mounted Raphea. She seemed to naturally adjust herself to his movements, and even though he had little experience on horseback, it felt natural as well. He hung back and joined with Eliwood and Hector. Explaining that the spy just needed to be alone, he rode, keeping an eye on the surroundings for ambushes.
I guess he had finally seen Matthew off kilter.
