No matter what angle you view a conflict from, there's always a reason why it even exists: money, recognition, challenge, honor, vengeance, and even love, among other things. The worst part about siding with a cause, though, is that it can change at a moment's notice; a simple duel for gold can turn into a thirst for blood, a desire to protect, or a yearning to be slain, in no particular order. Still, without conflict, our lives would be horribly droll.

Without self-conflict, wisdom cannot be acquired; without arguments, people cannot understand each other. Without war, the organization cannot sustain itself... not that I'm concerned or anything.

I'll just be out of a job.

Generosity

Foolish bandits, thinking we were easy marks. They must have been part of the Ganelon group that Migal guy had spoken of yesterday. He looked through the crumbling walls of the dilapidated fortress, at the bloody corpses scattered around the perimeter. This is the last thing the Legion needs right now... Seeing the two cavaliers approaching, Mark asked them, "Status report?"

"The enemy's retreating," Kent replied. "No fatal injuries incurred by any of us."

"The leader responsible has also been subdued," Sain added.

"Thank you, Saint Elimine," the tactician uttered to the orange skies, relieved. "Master Sain, Master Kent, I want everyone to scavenge the corpses for any usable items. Oh, and please tell Master Dorcas that I request his audience."

Another faction of the Ganelon had just been taken care of by Lyndis's Legion. The bandits' quest for revenge, which had emerged after the recent loss of one of their leaders, had become the downfall of quite an even greater number of them when they had tried to assault their foes' temporary camp, only to have been completely outsmarted. Now, as night began its descent, the Legion found themselves grateful for their victory.

Soon after the two knights had left Mark's presence to carry out his order, a muscular, red-haired man carrying a blood-stained axe and a girl with long, green hair showed up from the southern entrance.

"Dorcas!" the brown-haired girl behind the tactician exclaimed.

Gently dropping his weapon, he ran up to his wife and hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Natalie..." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"All's well that ends well," Lyn quipped. "Right, Natalie?"

"Speak of the devil," Mark said. "Lady Lyndis, can you help Master Kent and Master Sain with the order I had just given them? I need to talk privately with those two-" he pointed at the tender couple- "for a moment."

She gave a quick nod in agreement before complying.

When the show of affection was over, he sat on an even-surfaced brick near a wall, gazing at the disease affecting Natalie's leg. Based on his family's data, he knew that the run-of-the-mill healer around these parts wouldn't have the skill nor the tools necessary to purge it out of her completely. Either an experienced cleric- his mother, most probably- or a product of Eria's own work could pull off such a feat; having both available would be a miracle in its own right.

"So, Master Dorcas, I couldn't help but overhear your reason for the initial hostility. Lady Natalie, you've got quite the catch."

"Thank you for the compliment," she replied.

"However..." Mark continued, "I can't help but feel that if Lady Lyndis hadn't mentioned you, Master Dorcas there would've attacked you in his bout of self-conflict."

She looked at her husband, hoping the tactician was lying, but the axe-wielder looked down and sighed, unable to deny it.

"I could read it in both his eyes and his attack; he threw his hand axe at Lady Lyndis and missed on purpose. I doubt he actually agreed with the enemy leader's opinion." He looked at Dorcas. "Am I correct, my good sir?"

The tactician's deduction skills must have surprised him, judging from the perplexed look he immediately wore. "Quite the sharp wit you have there, Mark," he responded.

"I blame my psychology teachings. In any case, I needed to address it. Did you know that if you had engaged anyone other than Lady Lyndis, you would've died the moment you had missed? Bah, what am I saying- of course you knew! You should be thankful you're still standing- even though you're sitting, but you know what I mean!" He breathed deeply and exhaled. "And yet I should be grateful for that doubt. Like Lady Lyndis had just said, 'All's well that ends well.' Next order of business..." He pulled out a bag from his cloak pocket, cradled it in his hands, and showed it to the couple. Bouncing it, he made the clink of small metal echo across the desolate area.

"Is that-?" Dorcas began.

"Gold, yes," Mark finished for him. "One thousand pieces of it, to be exact. Tell me: if you had succeeded, how much were the Ganelon going to pay you for this gig?"

"Well..." He hesitated in answering and looked at Natalie, silently asking if she would be offended by his next words.

The nod she gave him as she gripped his hands with her own seemed to mean that she agreed.

"...The flat rate had been two hundred fifty gold," he answered, "and the number of women they captured would've increased it, depending on their 'value'."

"Really, now? Were you also expecting them- a gang of brigands- to fulfill their end of the deal?"

The addressed held his tongue.

"No answer, eh?" Mark brushed his chin. "That just solidifies my assumption of them going with the flat rate. You care for your wife deeply, in a dangerous sense. Sacrifices may be needed to reach an end, but lines must be drawn, lest you allow your humanity to dwindle to nothing. Let's see..." He began whispering to himself- another eccentricity he had failed to remedy in his youth. "Caelin's military is centered on lances, so it would be doubled. Take into account the distance we still need to cover and the Ganelon we still need to shake off..." Looking back at the axeman, he spoke, "Master Dorcas, give me your hand."

"Er... sure?" He held his right hand out- and felt the weight of the entire string-bound bag. "What are you-?"

"Half now, and the rest when we reach Castle Caelin," he interjected. "Lady Natalie, do you mind if I borrow your husband's skills for a short while?"

"I don't mind, Mark, but... isn't this a bit much?" she asked back.

"I'm grateful that you need my services after what had transpired earlier today, truly," Dorcas added, "but you don't have to go this far."

The tactician leaned against the wall for a moment. "You're right; I don't have to go that far..." Seeing the bag being offered back to him, he held out a hand- and gently pushed the item back to the holder. "...because it wasn't far enough. The pouch is yours, and I'll include whatever amount I get paid with to that deal. I'll also try to get your wife treatment by one of the most skilled physicians I've ever known. I'm not kidding here."

Seeing their shocked faces, he adjusted his hand to initiate a handshake. "Well?"

This unexpected gesture was too good to be true; he had never seen such altruism from such an earnest face before. "Only if you tell us why you're being so generous," he counter-offered.

"I understand your predicament, for I had also fulfilled requests for a living- not as a mercenary, mind you, but as the last confidant of condemned traitors," he answered. "If I had gained more knowledge of the medical arts before becoming an advisor, I would have already cured your wife's disease long before your employers had found my group; as it is, I am obligated to make up for my inexcusable present lack of aid."

Realizing that Mark was acting out of a sense of helplessness, the couple understood the meaning behind his generosity: his own guilt was driving him into making himself a better person.

Seeing Dorcas accept the pouch and place it on Natalie's lap, Mark added, "Oh, there is one caveat, sorry."

"That would be...?"

"Why, do not die, of course."

He looked at Natalie's face and saw her smile gently at him. "Very well," he said as he looked at Mark with a small grin. "Deal."

And with a handshake so firm that the advisor could feel his hand ache, Dorcas became a member of Lyndis's Legion.

"Let's go," the dutiful cavalier said to his aloof friend as he exited the room.

"Ha ha..." Sain choked out. "No one trusts me..."

"You wound me, Master Sain," the tactician quipped as he feigned an arrow to the heart.

"Oh, Mark. Sorry..." he apologized as they walked outside as well.

After Dorcas had departed from the Legion for the night with Natalie in his arms, the two knights and the group advisor had decided to keep watch over the remaining members.

"Master Kent, will I be paid for my services?" the tactician spoke unexpectedly, throwing the Green Lance off guard.

"I thought you were only doing it for experience!" Sain pointed out.

"That's right," he assured him.

"Why are you asking for money now?" Kent asked.

"Well, you see..." The tactician found himself having to explain his previous unsupervised actions.

I had originally joined without expecting money- this was only supposed to be a training mission, after all. My promise to Dorcas- every part of it- would eventually be fulfilled, but I had to do it in a way more roundabout than wanted- or allowed.

Yes: Yes, it's short. I'm a horrible person. This may be subpar, but the fact that the tactician had asked Dorcas to join the Legion had to be addressed.

Then again, maybe it had been that simple to gain trust... yeah, right.

From what I remember in Lyn's Story (Normal Difficulty), Dorcas's pre-programmed attack on Lyn always missed its mark. Maybe I had just been super-lucky ten times in a row?

One last thing: there's a reason the character label says "& Tactician/Mark".