Mark panted heavily as he continued to run through the streets of the Etrurian capitol city, the manor long since a distant view. A heavy pack was swung over his shoulder as he dashed about, knocking into townsfolk and apologizing as he did so. A ways behind him he could hear the fading sound of guards. Finally close to freedom anew, Mark grinned broadly as he burst outside the city limits, finally using the magic he had saved up to propel himself into the air on a green disc: the magic he had learned from Erk almost a full year ago to the day, to take back castle Caelin. As he soared forward, exhausted but still determined to escape, Mark looked back to see the ever shrinking figures of his pursuers. Surprisingly, and worryingly in Mark's eyes, they weren't even firing arrows at him.
Mark gulped hard but continued forward. Everything seemed to be genuine pursuit up until that moment, but the final hesitation from the guards left a bitter taste in his mouth. What if this, too, was a plot by his father? What if this journey could also be a lie? Mark shook his head fiercely, and forced himself to grin. All things considered, it wasn't too hard to force. In fact, as Mark felt the wind blowing by him and the sun on his face, Mark couldn't actually stop himself from grinning broadly. Regardless of his worries, Mark was finally in a position where he could influence himself again. Even if this was Saxton's plan, Mark could find a way out of it. He had to believe that, or else he knew he should have never gone on this second journey in the first place.
Due to this train of thought, Mark cast aside the bitter taste in his mouth from the guards pausing at the city limits. With a full smile on his face, Mark continued to soar towards his destination: Castle Caelin. It would probably take a few days, especially as he continued to try to lay low while in Etruria, but he had started and that's what mattered. After flying until he began to feel light headed, Mark settled in an alcove and made camp as the sun began to set. He could help but hum as his set about creating a small fire pit in the earth, jauntily outlining a small melody with no real structure or destination. When the fire began and the sun had set, Mark pulled out his small easel and a blank canvas, propping it up beside him as he stared at the fire.
What to paint? He thought to himself. His first thought was the fire, but he remembered how his father had painted flame in their last meeting and decided he'd rather not compare his art to his father's. Perhaps a person? I could show it to them as a gift when next I see them! Mark thought next. Yes, that felt only appropriate, but who to choose? Honestly, Mark would willingly put any of the friends from his journey to canvas. As he contemplated this, his mind wandered from person to person. Perhaps Lyn. That would be a great 'thank you' gift for her letters, ...as well as apology for never responding to her. ...No, on second thought, my relationship with Kent ended rather strained. Maybe a portrait of him would help set us right again! Although, he doesn't actually strike me as one that would appreciate something like a portrait. Sain would though, he's full of vanity afterall. Mark continued in this manner, and soon enough, he had gone through everyone from his journey and decided on no one. Eventually, he thought, it would be most interesting to paint Ninian, the young dancer girl. Mark never did find out her secret, and probably never would considering she and her brother disappeared just before he did, but the prospect of their mystery still intrigued him and he could recall them in vivid detail as a result. As he began mixing a deep blue, however, he realized who he should actually paint…
"...Ursula… Cecilia…" Mark muttered under his breath, his gaze slowly lowering to the dirt as he sighed. Leaving the first time had caused Saxton to force Ursula into the Black Fang, the most famous assassination corp on the continent of Elibe. Growing up, several Black Fang assassins had tried to take his father's life, so Mark had always feared the organization. Even so, knowing his father would do such a thing to his sister, Mark had left. Of course it's only fair to mention that Ursula and Cecilia had not only assisted in his escape then of their own free will, but accepted any repercussions and had told Mark as much. These weren't just empty words either, Mark knew, because they had decided to help him escape again just the day before. Still, he couldn't help but feel immense guilt. It was a brother's job to protect his sisters, right? Yet Mark had only ever put them in difficult situations. Thus, the subjects of his painting became obvious.
Slowly, Mark sketched out an outline of his piece. A young woman and a young girl, arms around each other and happily smiling in victory of another daring escape well done. Once that was done, Mark began his process of coloring, slowly but surely blending the exact colors of their blue and green hues. Hours later, Mark blinked back into reality as he realized the fire had gone out long ago, and dawn was slowly breaking over the city in the distance. Groggily rising and holding his completed painting up, Mark sighed happily and gently placed it to dry before gathering his things for sleep. Despite having a content and gently smile, Mark felt a few wet tears streak down his cheeks. ...You owe it to them both. Make this journey count and save them while you're at it! Mark thought, as he wiped away the tears from his face. Trying desperately to switch off his brain, Mark eventually felt sleep's embrace.
Days of simultaneously monotonous and exciting travel later, he arrived at Castle Caelin much more his former journeying personality than he had been in months. After a little practice bargaining with merchants on the Lycian border, Mark had remembered how to hide some of his mannerisms again, like his accent and noble speech. As a result he was feeling much more like his old self, breathing in the fresh air of a land he'd almost forgotten. Just as the castle began to be visible in the distance, Mark descended from the sky and walked briskly towards it. This angle was the exact opposite from the one he'd taken the castle back from last year, coming from the West rather than the East. It was because of this fact that Mark was almost close enough to be seen before he stopped dead in his tracks. He'd made it this far, and he knew his friends were right there in that castle and yet… he stopped. Mark's eyes moved past the castle, East to the thick forest behind it and he could no longer move. Suddenly he felt weak, almost falling back on his pack.
Mark's excitement had instantly faded away as he remembered the last time he was here in all the vivid details his brain had tried to make blurry. The heavy rain and the exhaustion. The uncertainty and the pressure of being the commander. Of course, and most importantly, that damned forest. The girl dying in his arms. The slow trudge back to the castle and the look on Lyn's face as she saw her best friend, dead. At that moment, Mark realized that he couldn't go to Castle Caelin anymore, maybe ever if he wanted to be cynical, but certainly not yet. Resolving to try anyway, Mark forced his legs to move towards the castle. Think of Lyn, think of the knights! I heard that Wil is still here too just… move… forward..! But as he did fear gripped his heart like a vice and squeezed until it felt like it would simply burst from the pressure. Shocked at this development, Mark fell to his knees and rested against his pack.
When he finally had some energy again, Mark got up slowly and walked away. Try as he might, he just wasn't ready to relive that location. He resolved himself to write a letter to Lyn and meet her somewhere else in Lycia. Trying to brighten his mood, he decided to write everyone a letter and tell them to meet. Eliwood would probably have all their contacts, he thought, and stated towards Pherae.
Another day or two of journeying, and Mark was in Pherae. Since he ran from Castle Caelin, (and he decided that it really was running away), Mark's new journey hadn't felt as exciting as it had when he set out. Mark cursed himself for this constant up and down cycle of his emotions, gloomy one day and exuberant the next. At this rate, he wished he could just pick one, even gloom, just for consistency's sake but he couldn't help it.
"Grahhh… This is ridiculous!" He eventually shouted, surfing in the wind and to no one in particular. Mark was less than an hour away from Castle Pherae, but he descended to a nearby village he spotted anyway and spat out a curse as he lightly hurt his ankle on the landing. He'd been too preoccupied and messed up his angle. Taking out a bandage and giving his foot a wrapping made it feel better, and Mark grumpily waltzed into the village. He knew he was wearing a scowl and was resolved to kill it before meeting with Eliwood.
The village itself was very obviously a small village, likely made up of hunters. Mark could tell this by the several burly men he walked by, swearing and laughing like drunk men in the early hours of the morning. They probably were drunk men, of course. That's why, after a few houses of this scenery, Mark was surprised to feel a tap on his shoulder only to turn and see a young girl. Her green hair reminded him of Cecilia, though the two looked nothing alike otherwise, and Mark felt his bitterness lessen.
"Hi there. Can I help you?" Mark said, with no particular tone. Apparently, this was still off-putting to the girl and she shifted awkwardly.
"H-Hello. Uhm. I know you're not from this village so that makes you a traveller, right?" the young girl said. Mark nodded in response and the girl let out a short breath. "H-Have you seen my brother anywhere? M-Maybe? He's got short green hair that's like mine, he left with our friend and-"
Mark felt it best to give her the bad news without giving her time to get her hopes up. "Sorry. I don't know anyone with short green hair. One or two with long, but no dice." Mark said, throwing in as much casual speech as he could so as not to tip off his speech. He had to remember to do that now, after all.
"O-Oh, I see. Sorry to bother you sir. Please, enjoy your stay in our village." The girl looked disappointed but unsurprised at Mark's blunt denial, but bowed courteously and left. Mark let out a small sigh due to being unable to help her, but before he could gather his thoughts again he felt another tap on his shoulder. He couldn't help but let out another, deeper sigh.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm kind of.." Mark's sentence trailed off as he turned around and was slowly made to look upwards towards a massive man with a huge battle axe on his back. Mark resisted the urge to give the man a sack of gold right then and there in return for his life and meekly squeaked out, "Can… I help you, too?"
The man slowly shook his head, his low voice rumbling in his chest in affirmation of his gesture. "Mmm. No, it's me who wants to help you. You walk with your shoulders dragging like you've got the weight of the world on em. It's just depressing." This, Mark agreed with. Mark was beginning to think this man was actually pretty alright, before he continued, "Come, let us fight!", and brandished his battle axe right then and there on this random street in this quiet village. Mark barely had time to open his mouth before the man swung it and Mark was forced to shut off all brain function that wasn't 'DODGE MASSIVE AXE THAT CAN KILL YOU'. Once he finally regained his composure and the man was busy digging his axe out, Mark raised his hands.
"Wh-Whoa there, I really don't want to fight right now! Aren't there better times and places to do this?!" Mark shouted at the man. The man's laughter simply bellowed as he ripped the axe free from the Earth.
"Oh, sure, by all means. But I was right, you're a strong one huh?!" The man continued to laugh, lovingly cleaned his axe with a cloth from his belt, and placed it back on his back. "I saw you and I knew, I just knew! Bartre has still got an eye for competitors!"
Mark's eye twitched, but it seemed the man only was going to attempt that one swing. "Is… that your name?"
The man, Bartre, nodded strongly and placed a meaty hand on Marks shoulder. It was almost the size of his father's, and Mark jumped. "Indeed I am. I was looking for a strong opponent to get some aggressions out, you see. Today is the anniversary of the death of a good friend of mine. He was always a more peace loving idiot than I was though, so I figure he wouldn't want me killin people on a day about him, would he?"
"P-Probably not, no." Mark said, trying to think of ways to get this man's hand off his shoulder without any awkwardness. Bartre instead leaned around and placed his entire arm around his shoulders and began to lead him instead. Mark, unsure what else to do right now and not wanting to make a scene, resigned himself to wherever he was being led.
"That's what I thought too. Then, I saw you also looking down and decided to let you in on my plan as a fellow strong warrior! ...But you know what me and my friend did do all the time!? There's no better way to honor him!"
"Y-Yeah? And what's that?"
Bartre grinned broadly and raised a fist into the air. "Drink!"
A/N: We did it folks, we made it to the start of Eliwood and Hector's tale. I hope you guys enjoyed this little travel chapter, it's about 500 words shorter than usual. Next chapter will have what is probably one of my favorite scenes that I have planned, as well as the first battle of Eliwood's story. Cheers! -Matt.
