Not a single day passes by without me thinking fondly of my roots- a time before I had gone out to earn the title of "master tactician", before I had endured the many trials expected of an "apprentice tactician", before I had laid the ink-dipped point of the quill onto yellowed parchment and had sworn fealty to the organization... Yes, I speak of my family. For their safety, I will not name names.

The third child of four, I remember my egregious bouts of silliness when I had yet to control my senses- and believe me, mistakes are much easier to recall than acts of valor, maturity, and whatnot. Oh, how I had used to screech so ear-piercingly at the slightest hint of danger! Oh, how I had tried to ride my father's traveling horse before finding myself soaring amongst the birds! Oh, how I had managed to exhaust (and injure) myself at everything I had devoted my very soul to! Oh, what a buffoon of the highest order I had been (and still could be, to tell the truth)...

My elder sisters- fair, lovely (in the sense befitting a brother, tainted one), and four years apart from each other- are physicians and devout clerics, both quite skilled in the art of the staff (as expected of clergy members); said traits had surely been inherited from our dear mother. A pity they didn't seek significant others, as they had once told me that having an uncle of close age would be most awkward for any child, much less one of theirs. Oh, how I had endlessly bickered with either of them every single day... though there had also been times when I had found myself against both!

My younger brother- cunning, rough-edged, and three years below my own age- was quite the prodigious apprentice strategist, earning his succession rite much sooner than I had expected. By the way, did you know that we had joined the organization at the same time? It's true! He never did manage to recover from his loss record against me in our chess duels, but then again, I couldn't match him in strength in the ensuing spars... His dabbling in the physical martial arts had given him one too many advantages, I think. Oh, how our rivalry had fueled our desires to succeed...

My mother, a retired cleric but still an able physician, defies her own age in physical appearance, something you'd definitely need to see to believe... though getting around the faux pas might be tricky. Don't be fooled by her gentle expression; underneath it lies determination as fierce as beasts! That raging fire has helped her through the worst of times... and in a way, it had contributed to my never-say-die attitude.

Last, but not least, is my father: a man who has mastered both paths of the advisor, possesses the strength of ten men, and is a damn good chess player! A blacksmith who now specializes in crafting medals of honor, he's the one person both my brother and I aspire to be- the reason we had joined the organization in the first place. Others might say we're just trying to live up to his legacy, but he had inspired us to live our lives to the fullest, to exceed his own greatness. He stands at the summit of the arduous mountain my brother and I are climbing this very moment, just waiting for us to become his equals...

Ah, I've chattered for too long... but that reminiscence had been too sweet to sour by ending it prematurely.

Expectations

Food... Glorious food... Where art thou? He clutched his stomach, his insides churning in excruciating pain.

"Mark, are you sure you want to tag along?" the brown-haired archer asked his cloaked companion as they were making their way through the thick vegetation. "I can handle my prey by myself, you know..."

"Of course I want to, Master Wil," the tactician replied. "Besides, everyone else back at camp will be fine, and I can't just leave you alone- ack!"

A thin, flexible tree branch smacked him right in the throat.

"Whoops, sorry!" Wil exclaimed.

He gave the archer a stern look for exactly one second before succumbing to the ensuing coughing fit.

It was the afternoon after the tactician had earned the trust of the lavender-haired pegasus knight. Lyndis's Legion had managed to cover quite a bit of ground earlier as Lyn had ridden on Florina's mount; Wil, Sain's; and Mark, Kent's (as the former had expected). Now, as the others were setting up camp, the archer decided to get some meat for tonight's meal; the tactician, seeing this moment as a perfect chance for conversation, volunteered to aid him in his task.

Eventually, his coughing subsided. "So, Master Wil... Why were you in that village yesterday?"

"To strike rich," he responded. "I was planning to earn gold in these parts by subduing the local bandits. Unfortunately, they struck first, and... you know the rest."

"The element of surprise is a double-edged sword, yep." He rubbed his neck, still aching from the impact. "Besides, isn't that dangerous- one archer against a bunch of axemen, I mean?"

"I can handle close-range battle quite well, thank you very much," he scoffed.

"I didn't say I doubted you or anything, but aren't the methods for precision shots very... well, precise?"

"I've been around Elibe for four years; I don't call myself a master marksman for nothing!"

The duo soon reached a clearing in the dense forest. A number of tree stumps decorated the grassy area, most of them long rotted from the forces of nature. However, the object of interest was foraging amongst the "graves": a deer with dark brown fur, sharp-looking antlers, and a black-tipped tail.

"Jackpot," Wil whispered to Mark as he withdrew an arrow from the quiver strapped to his waist.

The tactician silently watched his companion nock said arrow and pull the bowstring with what the latter was estimating to be sufficient enough strength for felling the beast.

Moments passed as the bowman isolated the factors that could alter his shot: wind, the prey's movement, and his stance, among other things. Steady... One shot... one kill. He fired the arrow, sending it zooming towards its target.

The last sense the prey had experienced was the taste of the grass.

"I can already taste tonight's meal!" Mark exclaimed as he helped Wil carry the dead deer towards the camp, himself in front.

"You've got to admit, this one's quite plump, huh?"

"Very much so." Indeed, their prey felt much heavier than expected- then again, the tactician was unusually scrawny under his bulky clothing. Looking to his left, he saw the sun beginning to descend into the landscape. "So, Master Wil, do you have any family waiting for you when you're done journeying?"

"Well..." he trailed off.

Mark bit his lip, thinking he had just made a faux pas. "Did I trigger bad thoughts? Forgive me..."

"They're still alive and well in Pherae," Wil corrected him. "It's just..."

"They're not waiting for you?" he asked, incredulous. "What's that all about?"

He hesitated to reply. A moment passed before he answered. "Do you remember when I said I wandered Elibe for four years?"

"Yes, why?"

"I actually... ran away from my home in Pherae four years ago- with a friend, no less. Dan and I dreamed of becoming wealthy and returning soon after... but we hit a snag."

"What kind of snag...?"

"I guess you could say... it was guilt. One month later, after we had entered Port Badon, we were beginning to have second thoughts about chasing our dreams- after all, an archer and a lumberjack with blank slates don't exactly exude professionalism. Then, out of the blue, Dan decided to give up and return to Pherae; this shocked me, to say the least. I thought, 'How could he disgrace himself like that?' Then again, I was no better; my foolish pride wouldn't let me give in that quickly. I wandered around the mainland for a few years, getting by with only that 'dream' to sustain me, until I found myself here. Nothing changed, though; the fear of my parents finding me out after I had plagued them with worry for so long scares the wits out of me, even now..." Finishing his tale, he fell silent.

"Master Wil..." The tactician pondered over his next set of words. "You know, I have a similar tale to tell."

"...You do?" the archer asked, his interest piqued.

"Yes, I do. When my brother and I had told our parents we would become advisors, they had vehemently opposed it. Our mother said, 'You shouldn't use others as your tools! Why don't you two just become priests? Instead of harming souls, why don't you heal them?' Tell me, do I look like a priest to you?"

"Well, you've got the frame..." Indeed, the man before him looked like a twig ready to break under the smallest force.

"You're not helping my case here," the tactician groaned, visibly upset. "Anyway, our father said, 'Military advisors carry a great burden: they're expected to get the mission done at any cost- including your life or any of your comrades'. Are you willing to bear that responsibility for a cause with no definite value?' In the end, we were able to get their approval, but when we had finally signed up, we learned that we couldn't contact them until we had earned our qualifications... and they couldn't tell us that fact because they had been sworn to secrecy!" He took a deep breath. "Master Wil, your parents can never hate you. Despite the fact that I could be six feet under at any moment, my folks had let me chase my dream; even now, I bet they're praying for the safe return of their two boys. You're in a much better position than I am. When you get the chance, go home-"

"But I can't-" he interjected.

"Listen to me," Mark countered. "When you get the chance, go home. I'll hammer it into your head if I must!"

Thankfully, the advice sunk into the archer as he nodded to the tactician. "...Alright. When our journey is over, I'll go back to Pherae... to my family."

"Good man." Mark hid a smile, his personal mission to earn Wil's trust successful. "It's a good thing your mind's as sharp as your eyes..." He felt a kick in his thigh. "Whoa!" His balance thrown off, he fell onto the grass, the dead deer pinning him down.

"Whoops..." Wil chuckled as the tactician thrashed about, unable to throw off the weight.

So I didn't inherit the strength of my father... Sue me. In case you were wondering, my sisters had been out on a pilgrimage during the time my brother and I had chosen our professions.

Yes: Happy Father's Day 2009! It just so happened that today's theme was "family", so I devote this chapter to my own father!