A moment of peace was always something to be grateful for. The visits from roaming tacticians were getting wearing. Assumedly a ploy by some hostile force to try and break the Shepards, groups of other 'Shepards' had been challenging them on almost a daily basis. Today was no different, as a group had approached with no attempt to disguise their intent. Honestly, he was tired of constantly fighting shades of his own companions, today having to personally slay men resembling Chrom and Ricken before personally challenging their tactician. The easy peace that came from Gangral's defeat was not turning out to be easy after all.
"I don't know where they're coming from, or why they come Cordelia." The tactician spoke, clutching a mug in his hands. The Shepards had stopped in a local inn for the night, and many were congregated in the main hall and weren't planning to leave till late into the night. "These groups keep coming out to challenge us…challenge me. I don't know how much longer I can keep this win streak up." He took a drink of the ale in his mug and sat back in his chair, the knight next to him bringing a long stemmed glass to her lips.
"Well, when did they start? Two months ago?" Two months ago would be when the army had ridden out of Plegia for the first time, after Emmeryn's death. Although, the challenges had started a week before that; the first group to challenge Mark's strategy and his friend's mettle came as they had departed from Yssitol to save the Exalt. Easy at the time, however the challenges began to come in more often, and came with better weapons and more tactical moves. The stress was getting to Mark, causing him restless nights and long bouts of desired solitude.
"I don't know why they're coming after me. I mean what makes our group special?" Finally one day, Gaius returned to Mark with information. Gaius learned that all the groups were coming from the Outrealm gates, but they couldn't be traced any farther back. Whenever a new group exited the gate, they seemed to have no other intent than to find the Shepards and attempt to eliminate them. "Can't we just…I don't know, buy them off?"
"Mark, what drives you again?" Cordelia put her glass down hard, shaking the table with the force. Unnerved by the action, Mark snapped from his melancholy to look at the woman across from him.
"I…uhh…wh-what're you getting at?"
"You always say that your goal is to be the greatest strategic mind you can be." Cordelia leaned forward, getting into Mark's face. "Well, life is giving you the greatest test for that. People are crossing dimensions…for some reason…and they're choosing to fight you. And you're complaining about this like some primped noble whose tired form a day of sunbathing and paper signing."
She was right and he knew it. Mark smiled and took another drink. Thinking back, he realized the most exciting parts of his life these days were the daily challenges. "You're right Cordelia. This is my drive, and so far my steel has been proven strong." She smiled at this, the twinkle in her eyes matching the joy on her lips. "What about your drive, then?" He said with a smirk. Cordelia's cheeks turned slightly red, and she covered her still present smile that was turning into a grin. Two tables down, Chrom was busy laughing with Vaike over empty bottles, bickering over who could win in a strait fight. "Have you worked on that at all, since we talked about it?"
"Well…No." The knight sputtered out before she took another drink. "No I haven't talked to Chrom about…well anything." The tactician sighed. He had gotten her to finally admit her love of their leader to him, and ever since he had tried to help her conquer her emotions and desires.
"Why not start now then?" He said with a smile as he stood, turning and beginning to walk over to Chrom's table.
"NO!" One minute, Mark had been walking towards Chrom and Vaike. The next, Cordelia had grabbed him by his cloak's hood and was dragged backwards. Tripping on the stool he had sat in, the man fell onto the table, which bowed and broke under his weight. The noise made many of the people in the tavern turn around, some of the Shepards standing and drawing weapons. Cordelia sheepishly looked around, Mark laid out in front of her, hood still in her hand. "He…uhh…I think Mark's had enough for the night."