(The following is a work of fanfiction and love. Fire Emblem: Blazing Blade and all related terminology remain property of Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. Please don't sue me.)

Introduction

Oh my god it's finally happening! Ladies and Gentlemen, my attempted novelization of the game that started it all, Fire Emblem (Blazing Blade)! As always I have strove to write this so that people with no background knowledge of the game can read and enjoy it. But if you enjoy this story then please consider dropping a few bucks on Nintendo's e-store to try it out. It's really a great game.

I swear to Naga and the Light and whatever else that I will eventually finish this story. No matter how long it takes. But Blazing Blade was a LOT longer than Awakening, so this… this is gonna take a while.

Read, review and enjoy!

Arc 1: A Daughter of Caelin

Chapter 1

A beautiful sea of green grass waving in the wind spread out in all directions, the overhead sun in the brilliant blue sky painting everything beneath it with its benevolent radiance. A few trees dotted the horizon, but apart from that all around was a sea of green melting into a vast and seemingly endless ocean of blue.

Not even a cloud passed before the sun to offer the weary traveller trudging through the scenic beauty of the Sacaen plains any respite from the beating heat.

Still he plodded along, unwilling to even take off and carry his beloved brown coat, so large on his lanky frame it almost resembled a mage's robe, suffering in silence in the name of his favourite garment.

"Argh! It's so freaking hot! I mean seriously! With all this grass you'd think there'd be some bloody water around! This is worse than a desert!"

Well… the figure plodded along in near silence.

The solitary figure ran a hand through his scruffy brown hair, attempting to keep the sweat-soaked strands out of his face. He wore plain travelling clothes beneath the coat, momentarily visible as he reached up, an unadorned leather vest over a cream shirt two sizes too big and brown trousers; the only interesting things to note about the boy were the pouch at his hip and his thin, elegant rapier strapped opposite it.

He let out another sigh, stopping dead in his tracks and sinking to a sitting position, arms out behind him as he stared up at the endless blue sky.

Mark, all of eighteen and full of the reckless brand of confidence youth instils in young men, had set out from home with barely a backwards glance and shouted farewell to his family, so eager he was to live up to the incredible legacy of his family.

"Maybe leaving home so early wasn't such a great idea, after all…" he muttered.

His mother had warned him against it, even going so far as to forbid him until he was 'ready'. So, deciding that he knew best, he'd snuck out with just a note left behind. Now he had the coat and the sword and he'd gone off on an adventure to become a great tactician, just like his mother had, his uncle and aunt had, and their father had, and his mother had, and so on and so forth. Generations of his family, tacticians and adventurers and heroes, the lot of them.

And, just like all of their adventures apparently started, he had absolutely no idea where he was. Or where he was going. Or what he was going to do when he got there.

But, according to his Grandmother, that was a familial trait, and according to his Aunt, that was part of the fun.

Mark let himself fall backwards with a soft thump, his arms stretched out on the blanket of grass and idly wondering where he would find water to fill his empty waterskin or food to fill his empty stomach as he stared upwards and let out a mighty yawn.

He really was exhausted from all the walking…

Mark blinked himself awake a few hours later.

A momentary panic gripped him, sending him shooting into a sitting position and coming face to face with a young girl, her arms laden with bowls and a surprised look on her face matching the one on Mark's.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Mark unable to think about anything besides how strikingly beautiful the girl was, until she smiled at him and set down the bowls. He wasn't ashamed to say that her smile made him a little giddy, but when he calmed himself he realised that it didn't reach her lovely green eyes.

Her features were sharp, yet soft at the same time; he attributed the sharpness to those piercing eyes that matched her strange shirt-dress… thingy that covered her upper-arms yet left her perfect, toned legs bare, split up the sides almost to her hips. Her long dark-green hair was tied back in a neat ponytail that reached almost to her waist, the hair itself silken and shining, despite clearly not having been washed properly in some time.

In the light of the tent's single oil lamp Mark wasn't afraid to admit that the stranger looked like an angel.

"Good, you're awake," she said to him in a soft voice as she moved to his side, moving to sit next to the bedroll he was in. "I found you unconscious on the plains. You know there are better places to fall asleep than in the middle of a field, right?"

"But this whole nation's one giant field…" Mark said weakly, still held in rapture by her beauty.

The girl looked at Mark uncomprehending for a moment before chuckling a little and smiling that fake smile again.

"So it is," she said. "But it's not safe to do so. There are bandits everywhere these days."

Her tone dropped and she looked away as she made her warning, sending alarm bells ringing in Mark's mind.

"Er… right," he nodded, scooting away from her a little.

He glanced around the… tent? Why was he in a tent? His sword sat over to one side atop his neatly folded coat. He was… in a bedroll?

"Did… you bring me here?" he asked slowly when the girl remained silent, staring off into space.

She glanced up at him, nodding once at his query.

"Thanks?" he said, her behaviour confusing him.

"I'm Lyndis!" the girl said quickly, realising she'd been staring into space. "I'm… I am from the Lorca Tribe. But… my friends called me Lyn."

Mark had to work hard to contain his curiosity at her use of the past tense as he extended a hand to her and put on his own fake smile, still unsure as to what she wanted from him. It wasn't like he had much money, and he didn't even know if they would take the silver coins or single lonely gold coin at the bottom of his pouch, both from his homeland, here. Wherever here was.

"I'm Mark," he said, speaking levelly.

Lyn looked at the appendage for a moment before grasping it. Mark pumped their hands up and down a few times, marvelling at the strength of her hands despite their small size, and the roughness of the skin on her palms obviously born from years of training with a blade. They were the same type of hands his mother and aunt had, and that thought put Mark at ease a little.

He remained on guard once they separated again, though. She was still a stranger, after all.

"Mark," Lyn repeated, turning the word over in her mouth a few times as if testing its taste. "Mark… that is foreign, yes?"

He nodded an affirmative.

"It is a strange name…" Lyn muttered to herself, before looking up when she realised she had spoken aloud.

"Oh, but it is a good name!" she said hastily when she noticed Mark's raised brow. "Please, pay me no mind!"

"Uh-huh," he said, unsure whether making fun of her name, too, would get him stabbed or not.

"So what brings you to Sacae, Mark?" Lyn asked, her eyes brightening a little for the first time since Mark had started speaking to her. "Would you share your story with me?"

He shrugged, deciding to be upfront about his reasons for travelling. "Honestly? I'm just wandering around. I've been training to be a tactician my whole life, and I figured I was due for some real world experience. So I've been trying to find a mercenary band or something to work for. It's… well, you saw me passed out in the middle of the field. I'm lost."

Lyn burst out laughing at his frank admission, practically rolling onto her back as she held her sides, Mark waiting patiently for the girl to finish.

"So I assume, then, that you have not eaten?" she said, her tone still tinged with mirth.

Mark nodded woodenly, completely overcome with how radiant she looked when she smiled honestly like this. Then his thoughts turned to more pressing concerns as the scent of whatever was in those bowls wafted over to him with a fresh breeze from outside the tent.

Lyn perked up, her expression changing in a flash as she glanced behind her.

"Wait here," she said quietly, her tone brokering no disagreement.

In one fluid motion she rose to her feet and grabbed for a beaten-up old sword near the tent's entrance, stepping outside into the night.

Night? Mark thought as he scratched his head. How hungry was I that I passed out all afternoon?

After a few seconds Lyn returned, her face stormy as she entered the small tent.

"Bandits," she said, spitting the word as if it were a curse.

"What?" Mark asked, shakily climbing out of the bedroll.

"They must have come down from the Bern Mountains," Lyn explained, obviously half thinking aloud. "They're obviously planning to raid the nearby villages…"

She glanced up, meeting Mark's eyes. The passion in her gaze nearly knocked him flat.

"I have to stop them," she said with fire blazing in her piercing eyes.

Mark froze as Lyn turned and strode confidently from the tent. He grinned, shaking his head a little and following after her.

"Wait for me!" he called out softly, slipping his coat on in one fluid motion and grabbing his rapier. As an afterthought he grabbed one of the bowls Lyn had prepared, drinking the weak broth as he rushed after her.

Fortunately she hadn't gone far, crouching behind a small copse of trees standing forlorn and alone in the plains with her sword already in hand. She noticed him almost as soon as he stepped out of the tent and waved the would-be tactician over.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed whisper once he crouched down next to her.

Mark shrugged innocently as he carefully placed the now-empty wooden bowl down near the tree where it would be safe.

"Tactician can't fight on an empty stomach," he said with a grin. "I'll pay for the soup later. Haven't we got bandits to slay?"

Lyn's eyes went wide, her mouth working a moment without making any sound. Clearly he had surprised her.

"You… you would help me?" she asked incredulously. "You… know that I cannot pay you, nor guarantee your safety, Mark. You do not even know me!"

"What's life without a little risk?" he asked, drawing his rapier. "Besides, this is what I wanted! Life experience."

Lyn's shocked expression changed into one of deep gratitude as she nodded.

"Very well," she said, turning to face the bandits again. "Thank you. Stay close to me."

Mark nodded, edging closer to the trees with Lyn. Three bandits, obviously some sort of scouting force, were wandering through the plains with seemingly little objective. Forward scouts, then, Mark decided. Bandits were supposed to be similar to mercenaries; they fought in bands and groups, the smarter ones sending advance scouts to ensure that their path was clear of danger.

"We need to get closer," Lyn muttered.

"We can't," Mark said. "There's no cover. The second we step out from behind these trees we become targets."

Lyn nodded.

"So, tactician?" she asked him with an excited grin over her shoulder. "What is our plan?"

Mark couldn't help but return her grin.

"Rush 'em and try not to die?" he suggested, earning a strange look from Lyn.

"Don't look at me like that," Mark huffed, pointing to the three bandits clearly illuminated by the moonlight. "There's three of them spread out and no cover. You rush the closest one and take him by surprise, then I'll jump out and take the second one when he comes charging to his friend's aid, and we'll both gang up on the last one. Like my teacher always said, 'brilliant tactics don't necessarily need to be complicated; the more you cram in, the more can go wrong'."

Lyn nodded her understanding.

"They sound truly wise," she said respectfully.

Mark nodded, grinning again. "Are we doing this?"

Lyn nodded, too, her beautiful face setting into a firm scowl.

"Right," Mark said, his voice dropping to a whisper as the closest bandit drew nearer. "Rush out, keep low, and keep quiet. Once you take him, get the next one's attention and once he rushes over I'll jump out, too."

"Understood," Lyn said, darting out from behind the tree at the nearest bandit.

It was like nothing Mark had ever seen before, watching Lyn fight. She moved silently, so close to the ground she was skimming just above the blades of grass like the wind. The bandit, a shirtless man easily three times the girl's size was looking right at her, but he didn't see the silent and wrathful girl until she had already run him through in a show of blistering speed. Her sword danced two more times and the bandit fell with barely a sound.

In fact she was so fast and silent that the other two hadn't noticed her.

Mark let out an involuntary laugh as her confused expression changed to slightly embarrassed understanding when she realised this, which had the effect that they had been looking for by killing the first of the bandits. The other two turned towards Lyn, spotting her light green dress against the purple backdrop of the starlit night as she stood over their fallen comrade.

"Okay," Mark muttered to himself, his grip on his sword tightening as he carefully controlled his breathing in anticipation. "Just like practice; flow through the motions. Flow through the motions… I can do this!"

The other two bandits rushed over, Lyn stepping back and adopting a defensive posture in preparation to meet their charge. As soon as Mark judged that the nearest was close enough, another shirtless man built like a brick wall wielding an axe, the tactician sprinted out.

Using the techniques his teachers had drilled into him Mark spun on his forward foot, bringing his thin sword down from shoulder-height on the surprised bandit and opening the man's torso with his spin. He barely had a chance to scream before Mark arrested his spin and flicked his sword back, slicing the bandit's throat open.

"This is too easy!" Mark laughed, grinning at Lyn as his confidence grew.

His grin faltered when he noticed the look of fear on Lyn's face, making him glance over his shoulder and curse.

"Oh boy…" he managed to mutter moments before flying through the air after being struck full-force in the side by the angry bandit leader.

"Mark!" Lyn cried, roughly throwing herself at the hulking bandit and being dealt a similar blow by the big man's back-swing.

Lyn gasped, falling away from the bandit and doing her best to roll away from him. Mark could do little more than lay there, waiting for the stars to clear from his vision and his head to stop spinning.

"Who do you think you are!?" the bandit shouted angrily. "Do you think you can stand up to Batta the Beast!?"

Mark let out an involuntary snicker at the bandit's lame nickname, probably thought up by himself. His laugh made him wince as pain shot through his ribs. The bandit spun on the prone tactician, his face turning red in his rage as he forgot Lyn entirely and began to stomp back towards Mark.

"Yeah, funny," he growled. "Let's see how well you laugh when I cut out your tongue, little man."

The bandit let out an enraged howl, lurching to the side as Lyn leapt onto his back sword-first, managing to get the old weapon to pierce the bandit's thick leather armour.

"Mark! Run!" she cried desperately. "Please! You must flee-"

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off when Batta reached over his shoulder and finally caught a hold of Lyn's dress, throwing her over his head to land on top of Mark in a heap. Mark cursed again as all the air was forced from his lungs, barely rallying in time to throw Lyn off of him and roll the opposite direction as Batta brought his axe down where they had been lying a moment ago.

A real sense of fear and dread rose up in Mark's chest as he came up onto one knee, looking into the snarling, bestial face of the bandit as he loomed over the young girl.

"Hold still, ya Nomad tart!" Batta snarled, hefting his axe and turning towards Lyn.

Mark shook his still-spinning head and rose shakily to his feet. Lyn was doing likewise across from him, but with a much more determined set to her features. In fact the intensity to her beautiful face was almost feral; it was one of the most terrifying things Mark had ever seen, up there with his mother and aunt fighting.

"Be gone from this place!" she shouted, readying her sword and foolishly charging Batta head-on again.

Mark groaned in irritation, readying his own sword and running at the bandit as quietly as he could, slipping his razor-sharp rapier through the bandit's leather armour easily and running him through before he realized where Mark was. Lyn took advantage of Batta's distraction as the bandit reached around to swipe at the smaller man and slashed her old sword across his throat, and the bigger man finally fell.

"Jeez, it was like fighting a mountain!" Mark complained loudly, falling down into a sitting position.

Lyn nodded, staring down at the bandit's corpse.

"I'm sorry," she said at length, her disappointed tone of voice making Mark glance up again.

"I sorely underestimated them," she said. "I… I need to be stronger if I'm going to survive. If you hadn't been here…"

"We'd both be dead," Mark sighed, cutting her off. "You, killed by bandits. Me, dead from starvation lying on a plain somewhere."

Lyn looked at Mark curiously a moment before breaking into a tired smile.

"You are right," she said, before a look of fear crossed her face again and she rushed to the tactician's side.

"Hold, I saw you take a blow that would have cloven most men in half! Are you alright? Let me see your wounds…"

"Huh? Wounds?" he asked, thinking back as the girl's hands started probing at his side.

"There's… no blood…" she whispered in awe.

"Argh! It still hurts, though! Stop poking!" Mark cried out.

"How is this possible?" Lyn asked, wide eyed.

"My coat's reinforced," Mark explained, sitting up a little and gingerly rubbing his side. There was a large hole in the outer layer of the coat now, revealing the second layer beneath. "It's lined with hardened leather plates. Heavy, but it offers extra protection. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not much of a fighter."

Lyn looked at the brown leather clothing with a newfound respect before carefully helping Mark to his feet.

"Come," she said. "Let's go back to the tent."

The next morning Mark turned over, reluctant to allow wakefulness to get its claws into him, however he conceded to it once he realised he was already mostly conscious again, anyway.

He lay there on his side, using his coat as a make-shift blanket and replaying the events from the previous night in his mind. He had killed two people last night; it was the first time he'd ever taken a life, and he was ashamed to admit he'd barely even hesitated to do it. He also kept playing back the pained look Lyn had adopted once the fighting was done. He had no idea what had happened to the girl to make her look so haunted or throw herself so recklessly at her foes, but he had decided that he wanted to help her. And not just because she was pretty. Well… mostly not just because she was pretty.

Sighing a little he slowly sat up, doing his best to ignore the ache in his ribs from the previous evening. He would have to track down a needle and some thread now to repair his coat, too…

"Good morning, Mark," Lyn said cheerily from the other side of the tent. "Good to see you awake. That fight last night must have taken a lot out of you; the sun has already been up for a few hours."

The young tactician nodded and yawned, stretching his arms above his head and wincing at the twinge from his ribs.

"I'd say it was more the axe than the fighting itself…" he muttered, rubbing his side. "How are you holding up?"

"I am fine," Lyn assured him, laughing a little. "I am used to far worse."

Mark nodded, and Lyn stood as she passed him a bowl of the same broth from the previous evening. He wasn't about to complain, though; he was still ravenously hungry.

"Man, I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks!" He said, sipping from the bowl. "It really tastes great. Thank you, Lyn."

"It is my pleasure, Mark," she smiled, returning back to her sitting position near the tent's entrance.

Lyn grew quiet while Mark slowly ate. Once he finished, and she still hadn't said anything he set the bowl to one side, rising and pulling his coat back on before moving and sitting across from the girl. It wasn't easy to do, either; she had let down her hair the previous evening, and it fell around her shoulders like a silken waterfall, perfectly framing her face in a way that made it incredibly difficult to look at her and remain focused, before pooling on the floor of the tent around her. She silently met his gaze, taking a deep breath before starting to talk.

"Mark, I want to talk to you about something," Lyn said hesitantly.

"Shoot," he offered lightly, idly balancing one of the empty bowls on the tips of his fingers.

"You obviously have some experience in the ways of war. Your journey… to become a tactician," Lyn said, the words practically tumbling out of her mouth now. "Would you allow me to join you?"

Mark blinked a few times at the sudden request, his head quirking to one side as he processed it. "I'm, uh, not really equipped to teach you how to be a tactician…"

"I merely wish to travel with you," Lyn explained, never once breaking eye contact, her hopeful and pleading gaze cutting right through him.

"I… don't have a problem with it," he said after a moment of thought. "But shouldn't we ask your parents or tribe or whatever first? I don't want people to think I'm kidnapping you or something…"

Lyn's gaze snapped down as if he had struck her. There was an awkward moment of silence in which Mark wondered if he should start to run before Lyn spoke again.

"My mother and father died six months ago," she said in a small voice. "My people… the Lorca… they don't…"

She took a deep breath before looking back up at Mark, not even trying to hide the pain and tears in her eyes.

"I am the last of my tribe," she said in a thick voice before looking away again.

"Oh, wow, I had… no idea… I'm so sorry. If you don't want to talk about it…" Mark said awkwardly.

"No, I would have you… know the truth of my story," Lyn explained. "So that you might understand why I wish to travel with you."

Mark nodded silently, waiting for her to continue and respectfully placing the bowl back on the ground. A few more moments passed as Lyn composed herself before finally speaking.

"Bandits attacked," she said in a shaky voice, her shoulders beginning to tremble slightly. "They killed… so many people. The tribe was… scattered. My father was our chief, and I wanted to protect our people. But I was so young, and the people are old fashioned. They would not follow a woman… No one would… follow me…"

Lyn let out a soft sniffle as a surprised Mark moved to sit at her side, only hesitating a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Lyn said, taking a deep breath. "I've been alone for so long…"

Mark nodded again. This explained a lot of her behaviour the previous evening, including her suicidal desire to see all the bandits dead.

"Don't worry about it," he soothed, tightening his grip a little.

Lyn took another deep breath and stood, gently shaking off Mark's arm.

"No… I will shed no more tears," she said, her voice becoming clear again.

A few moments passed before Lyn turned to face Mark again, dry eyed now and full of confidence.

"Thank you, Mark. I feel better," she said gratefully as the tactician rose to his feet. "Please, Mark," Lyn said, taking one of his hands in both of hers. "I must become stronger. I must become stronger so that I can avenge my father's death. I must become stronger so that this kind of evil never happens again. Yesterday's battle taught me that I still have much to learn, and that I will not learn it sitting here alone."

The tactician nodded, agreeing with her sentiments. "Well, at least you've got a solid base…"

"Please, Mark," Lyn practically begged as she stepped towards him. "Tell me you'll take me with you."

"Okay, okay!" he said pulling his hand free and taking a step back in the cramped tent, his face starting to blush from the strength of Lyn's emotions as he looked away. "I'm not going to turn you down, not after you obviously spent so much time working on that speech."

"Truly?" Lyn asked.

Mark nodded, flinching when Lyn threw her arms around his neck and hugged him in her happiness.

"That is wonderful! Oh, thank you so much!" Lyn cried happily as Mark tried to subtly ease himself from her embrace.

"We'll be better off working together, I just know it," Lyn said with a beaming smile once she stepped back from Mark.

The tactician just nodded, his face still red as he looked away from Lyn.

"You'll be my master tactician, and I'll be your peerless warrior!" she went on, quickly beginning to pack her few belongings in the tent.

"We can do it, right?" she asked, smiling over her shoulder at Mark.

He was struck speechless by such an innocent smile for a moment before he regained his wits and managed to nod.

"Of course we can," he said, smiling himself. "But rule number one is 'no more suicide-charges at bandits'. We fight smart, understand?"

"I believe that sounds fair," Lyn laughed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

Mark had to admit, Lyn was in a much better mood now than she had been as she led the tactician across the ocean of grass. She chatted about inconsequential things, telling Mark about the local customs so fast he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Obviously she had been lonely, living alone on the plains for so long.

A young sword-fighter and a trainee-tactician on a journey to improve their skills; it made Mark chuckle a little to himself. They made an odd pair, but Lyn was surprisingly likeable. She wasn't at all like the other dour Nomads he'd met on the plains so far, something he put to a combination of her unique personality and her youth.

"First we should stop for more supplies," Lyn said cheerfully. "I still have some food left, but with the two of us it won't last long. The closest town is Bulgar; it is the commercial centre of Sacae, and I have been there a few times. You have no objections to starting there?"

"Yeah, that's fine. To tell the truth I still have no idea where I-"

"Good!" Lyn said excitedly, cutting him off. "Their inn is one of the finest in all of Sacae, and the meals are amazing! We shall have to stay the evening there. Ah, by the mother sky it has been so long since I have washed my hair properly…"

Mark sighed, grinning a little to himself as Lyn went off on another tangent about Sacaen dress and hairstyles, and how they were an important part of social life.

At least he was learning things about the culture…

Mark perked up a little, spotting the sunlight glinting off of something in the distance.

"What is it, Mark?" Lyn asked when she realised he'd stopped.

He squinted, making out two riders moving at a fair clip through the plains; men in armour, rather than the leathers and flowing garments of the Sacaen Nomads, riding in the same direction they were.

"Riders," he reported. "Two of them. Looks like they're heading to the town as well."

"Knights?" Lyn repeated, shading her eyes and trying to spot them, too. "In Sacae? That is strange."

"Unless they're mercenary knights it's got nothing to do with us," Mark shrugged, hitching the pack he was carrying for Lyn further up on his back.

The young swordswoman nodded, an uncertain look crossing her features before she moved to catch up with Mark.

"So this is Bulgar?" Mark asked as he looked around that evening.

Everywhere around him people were going about their lives, ignoring the newcomer as they slipped between wooden buildings and canvas merchant stalls lining the rutted dirt street. Merchants were loudly shouting and hocking their wares while apprentices raced around underfoot, making deliveries or picking up materials their masters would need for the next day's work. All of this was accompanied by gratuitous laughter and the smell of roasting meat; it was as though there was a festival going on to Mark's untrained eye, even though according to Lyn it was always like this. The lively atmosphere was making Mark smile just from standing in the street.

"I love this city," Lyn sighed, leading him through the press of people. "It is so alive, so vibrant. It is the jewel of Sacae, full of colour and passion."

Mark nodded, forced to agree with her as he watched men toasting a hard day's work in the stalls outside the bars lining one street. It was such a lively place he almost considered just staying there; he was good with numbers and had a keen intellect, no doubt he'd make a fine merchant's apprentice. One look at Lyn's smiling face, however, quelled those thoughts as he recalled his promise to her. They had a quest to undertake, even if it was still only a vague idea.

Lyn led them down one of the side-roads, past merchants' apprentices as they closed up the shops for the day while their masters sat out back counting their profits. She stopped outside of one of the smaller inns, looking expectantly at Mark.

"It looks… clean?" he said, unsure of how to respond to her look.

"It is the best inn in Bulgar," Lyn said happily, moving to open the door and hesitating. "Just… don't sign anything the inn-keeper hands you. In fact, just let me do the talking. She gets a little excitable around new customers."

A bell on the back of the simple wooden door chimed as Lyn pushed it open, stepping into the dim interior and leaving Mark to follow her with unasked questions still on the tip of his tongue.

He reeled and clutched his ears when a loud, high-pitched squeal assaulted him, a red blur moving to meet them at the door.

"Lyndis, dear!" a thin woman with bright red hair tied back into a ponytail shrieked. "It's been too long! I'm glad to see you're still alive!"

"Good evening, Anna," Lyn said, half a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "We're looking for some rooms."

"We?" the innkeeper, Anna, parroted before her gaze fell on Mark.

"Hello and welcome to Anna's Inn!" she shouted cheerily, practically bowling Lyn over in her haste to get to the tactician. "You'll find no better rooms in Bulgar or all of Sacae! Plus the inn sports the most beautiful innkeeper in the city, too! You're in for a treat tonight, young man!"

Anna broke into a fit of giggles as she gripped at a stunned Mark's arm and dragged him further into the inn.

"Lyn save me," Mark whispered as the innkeeper manhandled him past his partner.

That night, on the first soft bed he'd slept on since he had made the journey to Sacae, Mark lay awake and staring at the ceiling. Dinner had been huge and hearty, not to mention dirt cheap. Apparently Anna really liked Lyn and had thus only charged them for the cost of the ingredients; which was good, because Mark had yet to actually make any local money since coming to the land of plains and sky.

Lyn had talked merrily with the innkeeper while they had eaten and Mark had been able to observe and learn a little more about his new travelling companion. Such as the fact she had made the trip to Bulgar at least four times since she'd lost her tribe, each time choosing to stay at Anna's inn; even before that the plucky innkeeper had apparently had some dealings with the Lorca, and fussed over Lyn almost like one would a little sister. Other travellers, nomads that apparently had once held ties to the Lorca, had talked with them, too, and Mark had been completely left out to eat his meal in silence as he observed and listened. The older men, merchants and clanless mercenaries that had worked with the Lorca, all knew Lyn and they had talked late into the night about things that he hadn't even tried to follow. But Mark was man enough to admit that it made him a strange sort of jealous.

After the meal they had retired to adjoining rooms on the second floor, Anna promising to bring up tubs full of hot water that they could clean themselves with. Mark had made good use of the down-time, chronicling his journey so far in the little mole-skin journal he carried everywhere with him and even managing to do a passable job at shaving the fine hairs from his face with his dagger before thoroughly cleaning himself. He felt like a new man, but he still couldn't get his hair to sit neatly.

The young would-be tactician let out a sigh, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

Lyn was clearly held in high regard here; and why not? She was the daughter of the Lorca's late chief, which would make her the Sacaen equivalent of their princess. It stood to reason that she would be well known and well received by the allies of her tribe. Mark even surmised that if she had wanted to reunite the tribe she could even become the new Lorca chieftain herself.

Lyn had obviously needed the socialization of the evening, too; from what Mark had been able to pick up so far the Nomads were a social people that loved to drink and talk and tell stories. It appeared to be an important part of their social structure, and being deprived of that would have been hard for Lyn.

A soft knock at the door interrupted the young man's thoughts, making him shoot into a sitting position and automatically reach for the small dagger on his bedside table.

"Yes?" he called out softly.

"Mark, are you still awake?"

He relaxed, tossing the weapon back onto the table as he rested his back against the bed's headboard.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

Lyn opened the door, stepping somewhat timidly inside Mark's room and quickly looking around.

"I did not wake you?" she asked.

"I was just trying to organize my thoughts," he said kindly, indicating she sit on the chair in the corner of his room. "What can I do for you, Lyn?"

The girl sat down, giving Mark an apologetic look for a moment before she spoke. "You were left out of the dinner conversation. I wanted to apologize for that. I meant no disrespect; it had just been some time since I had…"

She trailed off and frowned when it became obvious that Mark was holding in laughter, his hand clamped over his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he snorted. "It's just that… well, I understand you wanting to talk to your old friends."

"They were allies of my tribe, hardly friends," Lyn corrected him. "And you are my tactician. I should be talking to you. We must get to know one-another if we are to work alongside each other."

"Technically I am still only a tactician-trainee," Mark said, shrugging and holding his hands palm-up. "By the rules of my family I'm not full-fledged until I serve as a strategist for a time."

"Still," Lyn said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "I would converse with you."

"About what?" Mark asked lightly.

Lyn hesitated, her mouth working without sound before her shoulders drooped a little.

"I admittedly did not think that far ahead," she muttered, a slight red tint creeping to her cheeks as Mark began to snicker again.

After a moment Lyn began to chuckle a little as well, leaning back in her chair and relaxing.

"So tell me," Mark asked conversationally as he rested his hands behind his head. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Old enough to slay bandits," Lyn answered evasively. "How old are you?"

"Old enough to have fun, but still young enough to get away with it," he shrugged innocently.

Lyn raised an eyebrow at the tactician, eliciting another soft laugh from him.

"Just turned eighteen," Mark admitted.

"I am… this is my fifteenth summer," Lyn said in the lull that followed Mark's admission.

"See? Not that big an age-gap," Mark said.

"But by the laws of my tribe I am still a child," Lyn spat. "I have had to lie about my age for six months so that I was not adopted by another tribe 'for my own good'."

"It must have been hard," Mark commented.

"Yes, it was," Lyn said softly, looking down.

When she looked back up Mark found himself stunned speechless again by the sheer beauty of her smile.

"But all that has changed now," Lyn said happily. "I'm not alone any more. Because I found you."

Mark couldn't help but wordlessly grumble the next morning as he and Lyn set out from the inn, a sickeningly chirper Anna seeing them off far louder than necessary.

"Good thing we're not trying to be secretive about this trip," Mark groaned as the red-haired innkeeper wished them a safe journey at the top of her lungs from the door of the inn.

"Yes, Anna is a very lively sort," Lyn laughed.

"So… where are we going?" Mark asked conversationally as they strolled through the town.

Lyn shrugged.

"There are still bandits on the plains at the base of the Bern Mountains. Why don't we start there?"

"As good a place to start as any," Mark sighed. "Let's get some supplies and get a move on."

The pair had barely taken another step before they were forced to stop suddenly when a strange voice rang out, making both travellers turn curiously.

"Oh my heart! What a dazzling vision of loveliness!"

Mark realised he was looking at one of the Knights he'd seen in the distance the previous evening; a young man only a few years his senior with brown hair only marginally neater than his own held away from his face by an old headband. An instinctive sense of dislike crept into Mark's heart, and he found himself narrowing his eyes.

"Wait, oh beauteous one!" the Knight pleaded to Lyn, holding one hand over his heart. "Would you not favour me with your name? Or better yet, your company?"

Mark's brow twitched as he was overcome with the urge to punch the Knight. However, he remained silent and clenching his fists, not wanting to appear to be a violent boor in front of Lyn. His Grandfather's favourite line of "when in doubt, punch it out" circled around his head a few times, but Mark shook the thought away. For the moment, anyway.

"Where are you from, sir Knight, that you speak so freely to a stranger?" Lyn asked, instantly flustered as the Knight approached.

"Ha! I thought you would never ask!" the green-armoured Knight declared, as if Lyn had fallen into his trap, sidling closer to her and utterly ignoring Mark. "I am from the noble land of Lycia! I hail from the Caelin canton, home to men of passion and fire!"

"Shouldn't that be 'home to callow oafs with loose tongues'?" Lyn asked before Mark could speak, crossing her arms and glaring at the Knight.

The tactician snickered at the insult, but unfortunately Lyn's candour seemed to backfire as the Knight actually swooned as his harsh treatment.

"Ooh, you're even lovely when you're cruel!" he sighed.

Lyn clicked her tongue in annoyance, spinning on her heel and looking at her travelling companion.

"Let's go Mark," she declared suddenly. "I've got nothing more to say to this man."

Mark nodded, glaring with one arched brow at the Knight before turning to follow Lyn.

"Wait, please…!" the man said, making to follow them before being pulled backwards.

"Sain, hold your tongue!" a new voice practically shouted.

"Ah, Kent, my boon companion! Why so severe an expression?" the other man, Sain apparently, asked.

Lyn and Mark both hesitated, Mark fervently hoping Sain was about to be hit in some form by the red-armoured Knight with orange hair currently gripping his shoulder. Preferably in a very painful fashion.

"If your manner were more serious I would not have to be severe," Kent growled, bringing his face close to Sain's in a threatening manner before releasing the man. "We still have a mission to complete."

"But to remain silent in the face of such beauty would have been discourteous-" Sain insisted.

"What would you know of courtesy?" Kent asked, cutting the other man off mid-rant.

Kent straightened, approaching Lyn and Mark before bowing apologetically to them both.

"My lady, please accept my humblest apologies for my oafish companion's behaviour," Kent said in a clipped tone, on Mark recognized as speaking of a lifetime of military training.

Lyn looked questioningly to Mark, who shrugged helplessly.

"Very well," she said after a moment. "Thank you. You, at least, seem honourable enough."

Kent straightened, nodding before his eyes widened slightly. His brow furrowed, and he leaned in closer to Lyn, as if inspecting her. Mark felt a muscle in his cheek twitch, but once more held his tongue. From what he'd seen so far Lyn didn't need his help, plus he reasoned that it might be interesting to see such a small woman beat two armoured knights into submission in the middle of a busy street.

"Er… pardon me, milady, but have we perchance met before?" he asked curiously.

"I beg your pardon?" Lyn deadpanned, her expression dropping into a scowl.

Mark resisted the urge to laugh out loud as Sain made a strangled squeaking sound, rushing to Kent's shoulder.

"Hey, no fair, I saw her first!" the green-armoured man objected.

Lyn clicked her tongue again before spinning on her heel and stomping off.

"It appears there are no honourable men in Lycia's Knights after all," she growled to Mark, who struggled to match her pace. "Let us be off, Mark. I have run out of patience."

"Okay, sheesh," the tactician sighed. "Slow down already, I'm the one carrying everything here!"

"Wait, please! It's not like that!" Kent called out from behind them, being utterly ignored by Lyn.

Mark rolled out his neck under the weight of the heavy bag on his back as he and Lyn walked side by side out of Bulgar. The endless sea of grass ahead of them was broken by the occasional traveller heading either towards the city or away from it. Mark could see a few wagons in the distance, but mountains he couldn't find.

"How far away from the mountains are we, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Nearly a week by foot," Lyn said distractedly.

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, are you still bothered by those Knights?" he asked. "You're not seriously telling me a pretty girl like you has never been hit on before."

"Pretty…?" Lyn repeated, blushing a little as Mark turned back to the city.

"See?" he said, indicating the empty road behind them. "They're not even following us, so cheer up a… little…"

He trailed off, catching sight of the men obviously trying to shadow the duo. Mark took a moment to study them out of the corner of his eye, thinking that they might simply be doing something, anything, else, but even a cursory glance was enough to convince him that they were following the travellers.

"Lyn, start running," Mark said quietly.

"What?" she asked, turning to look back to the city, too.

The men following them realised they'd been found out, foregoing their cover and racing out after the two young travellers. The young tactician cursed himself for not opening with 'don't turn around', but quickly pushed the thoughts of self-reproach from his mind.

"Run!" Mark repeated, shedding his pack and starting to run away from the city as fast as he could.

Lyn followed wordlessly, drawing her sword as she matched Mark's pace. Behind them more of their pursuers appeared out of the ditch beside the road, much closer this time. They were dressed similarly to the bandits they had fought the night they had met, wielding similar weapons and scowling.

"These men are out for blood," Lyn warned, skidding to a stop.

Mark followed her example, spotting the three bandits crawling out of the ditch ahead of them on the road.

"Well, crap," Mark cursed, drawing his rapier.

The bandits closed in as their leader stepped forward, his stubble-coated face twisting into a cruel grin as his eyes fell on Lyn and he let out a short laugh.

"Well, ain't you a pretty one?" the bandit slurred. "You're Lyndis, yeah?"

Lyn started as if struck, her eyes widening. Mark glanced over his shoulder curiously at her reaction. Anna had called her that the previous evening, but the way Lyn reacted just now…

"What did you call me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who are you? How do you know that name?"

The bandit just chuckled again, turning as he shook his head in mock sadness.

"Such a waste," the bandit sighed. "An absolute waste. The things I'll do for gold… Right you lot, waste 'em!"

"Don't give up, Mark," Lyn said to the tactician at her back. "We'll think of something…"

"Yeah, 'cut them up and run like mad'," the tactician scoffed.

"I like that plan," Lyn growled, her grip on her old sword tightening expectantly.

The bandits eyed off with the two travellers for a few moments in tense silence, neither side wanting to put themselves at risk by making the first move. Mark was happy to see Lyn fighting smarter this time rather than racing head-first into their enemy, but he could see the tightness of her jaw, the stiffness of her shoulders and stance. It was taking a monumental effort to control herself.

Lyn tensed against Mark's back, obviously about to attack before the sound of muffled hoof-beats reached the tactician's ears.

"Stand away from the lady!" Sain cried, riding onto the road from the lower field and swinging a lance at the bandits in front of Mark.

"Hold!" Kent shouted, appearing after Sain and taking up position in front of Lyn. "Such numbers against travellers!? Cowards, every one of you!"

"You-" Lyn started, staring up at the mounted Knights.

"Later!" Kent said, cutting her off and slashing with a longsword at the closest bandits. "Come! If it is a fight you seek, look no further!"

"Stand back," Sain said to them with a wink. "We'll take care of this."

"Is it so wrong I really don't like him?" Mark ground out as the green knight struck with his lance again.

"No! This is my fight!" Lyn declared, losing her composure and running towards the retreating bandits in front of her. "Stay out of my way!"

"Lyn, what are you- Lyn!?" Mark called after her.

"We have to go after her!" Sain shouted, wheeling his horse around.

The bandits scattered, racing into the field and taking refuge across a small stream. They obviously meant to escape now that the tables had been turned, but Mark needed to know why they were being hunted…

"You two!" he shouted, stalling the Knights. "Ride south and circle around! Pen them in and push them back towards us!"

"Excuse me?" Kent asked, obviously non-pulsed at being ordered around.

"Just do it!" the young tactician growled, taking off after Lyn.

Mark was surprised and further irritated to see just how far ahead of him Lyn had gotten; she was clearly far, far faster than he could ever hope to be, but she was stalled by one of the bandits she had managed to catch up to. With mad, hacking motions completely removed from the elegant swordsmanship he'd seen the previous night Lyn went after the bandit, kicking upwards to break his guard before setting upon the man in a snarling rage.

She was so focused on the bandit screaming beneath her that Lyn completely missed the one sneaking up on her.

"Lyn!" Mark called out in warning, throwing out his empty hand desperately.

He was far too slow to catch the bandit's blade in time, but his shout gave the man a momentary pause. Long enough for Lyn to roll aside and come up in a fighting crouch. Mark closed with the man, bringing his rapier in to stab three times at the bandit's chest, forcing his attention onto the strategist while Lyn ran him through from behind with a savage scream. As she kicked the bandit off her blade Mark rounded on her, high on adrenaline and panting from the run.

"What happened to rule number one!?" Mark shouted. "You promised me, dammit! You gave me your word that-"

"Be silent!" Lyn snapped, her face still contorted with rage. "These men are monsters! I'll kill every last one of them-"

Lyn's rant was abruptly cut off as a loud slap echoed around the plain, Mark lowering his hand as Lyn looked back up with wide, shocked eyes.

"Have you come to your senses yet?" Mark asked in a low tone.

Lyn nodded slowly, her face slacking a little.

"I… I am sorry, Mark," Lyn said quietly, looking down. "I do not-"

"Save it," the young tactician sighed, starting to walk south again. "We'll talk about it later. We need to make the road safe for the other travellers first."

"But know this," he added over his shoulder as Lyn started to follow him. "If you pull a stunt like this again you will find yourself without your tactician. Am I clear? What's the point of having a tactician if you're not going to listen to him in the first place?"

By the time Mark and Lyn had caught up with the fleeing bandits Kent and Sain had already run most of the group to ground beneath their steeds' hooves, only the enemy leader and two others still putting up a fight as they tried to get away.

Mark had to scoff at the way he automatically classified these men as 'the enemy' in his mind. Reasoning away the killing, making it easier to deal with. It hardly felt like something a hero-tactician would do.

"Accursed knights, always interfering with other's affairs!" the bandit leader growled, swinging his axe back and forth and actually managing to score a light hit on Sain's arm.

Kent growled as Sain momentarily retreated, stabbing another of the bandits with his longsword as Lyn and Mark dashed into the fray, taking the last bandit by surprise and skewering the axe-wielding man with their swords at the same time.

"Give up and we may think about sparing you," Mark told the bandit leader, resting his bloody sword against his shoulder.

"Sod off, kid," the bandit growled, readying his axe. "I ain't about to go down so easy as the rabble."

Lyn surprised Mark by stepping forward, her face cold this time as opposed to the fiery wrath she had been showing before.

"Surrender," she said forcefully, brandishing her weapon at the man. "Enough blood has been spilled this day."

"Shove it up yer-" the bandit started, taking a step forward.

Mark darted in low, bringing his rapier up with the intention of throwing the man off balance. Lyn caught on and spun, her own blade carving a furrow across the bandit leader's leather armour as Sain leapt forward, ramming his lance down into the bandit's back from behind. Kent brought his sword down, the heavy weapon sinking deep into the bandit's shoulder.

"Argh!" the bandit roared, sinking to his knees before looking up at Lyn. "There was only… supposed to be a… lone girl…"

Lyn clicked her tongue before spinning again and beheading the man.

Mark sighed, wiping the blood off his rapier with a scrap of cloth from one of the fallen bandits and watching Lyn out of the corner of his eye. She was standing perfectly still over the body, looking down at it and frowning.

"I'd say that was a little over-kill," Mark commented idly, hoping to break her out of her melancholy.

"Indeed," Lyn commented, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "That was fantastic work, Mark. You truly are amazing."

"Stop with the flattery," Mark chuckled, sheathing his sword before sobering. "You okay?"

"I will be," Lyn promised him, flashing him a small smile before turning back to the now dismounted knights.

"As for you, Knights of Lycia," she said, her tone serious. "I would have you share your story with me."

"Yes, of course, milady," Kent said with a light bow. "However, may I suggest someplace a little more… private?"

Lyn raised her brow disapprovingly as Mark moved to whisper conspiratorially in her ear.

"We're not that far from Bulgar yet," he suggested quietly. "And I'd bet we can get at least a night's lodging out of these two."

"Anna would appreciate the business," Lyn muttered with a small nod.

"Very well," she said to the knights. "Follow us."

"We have ventured from Caelin, in Lycia, in search of someone," Kent explained.

Mark quirked one brow, choosing to let the others remain ignorant of his total lack of knowledge in the geography of the land they were in for the time being. He would find a map… eventually. Until then he would, as his teacher was prone to saying, 'fake it'.

The two travellers and two knights were seated around a low table in one of Anna's rooms, Mark perched on the edge of the bed as the others occupied all the chairs. Their return journey had been tense and awkward, both travellers doing their best to maintain a watch on their surroundings for any further ambushes while still keeping the mounted knights at arm's length. Now, the two men were disarmed and had removed their armour in a show of sincerity, sitting in their plain earthen-toned riding clothes, which had convinced Lyn enough to hear them out.

"Lycia is the country beyond the mountains in the south-west, is it not?" Lyn asked curiously.

"Correct," Kent nodded. "We have come as messengers for the Lady Madelyn, who eloped with a Nomad some twenty years ago."

Lyn reeled as if struck, her hand instantly coming to rest over her heart.

"M-Madelyn…" she repeated, her gaze dropping.

"Our Lord the marquess of Caelin's only daughter," Kent confirmed before ploughing on. "He was heartbroken his own daughter would abandon him so. Eventually the marquess simply declared that he had no daughter."

"And then this year we received a letter from Lady Madelyn," Sain piped up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and an excited set to his features. "It said that she, her husband and their daughter were living happily on the Sacae plains. The marquess was ecstatic to learn he had a granddaughter!"

Lyn quivered a little again, and Mark had to resist the urge to reach out and comfort the girl. He settled for sighing and averting his gaze a little, waiting for the knights to continue.

"I remember the smile on his face when he announced that he'd suddenly become a grandfather," Sain went on, oblivious. "The granddaughter's name is Lyndis. This was also the name of the marquess' wife, who passed away at an early age. We… did not know that Lady Madelyn passed a few days after sending that letter."

"Lyn?" Mark asked cautiously as her gaze snapped back up at the sound of her name from the Knight.

"His… only wish is to meet his daughter's family at least once," Kent added, hesitating at Lyn's distraught face. "Milady, are you well?"

"I am fine," Lyn said, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "Please, continue."

"Very well," Sain said, sitting up straight. "We only learned of the Lady's passing and the destruction of the Lorca tribe after we arrived in Bulgar yesterday."

"But we also learned that the Lady Madelyn's daughter yet lives," Kent said, pointedly staring at Lyn. "A young woman, living alone on the plains…"

"Well, mostly alone," Kent added, shooting a glance at Mark, who shrugged.

"I knew it immediately," the Knight added with conviction. "You are the lady Lyndis."

Lyn flinched before nodding. Mark quirked a questioning brow at her, and she smiled apologetically to him in return.

"How did you know?" she asked quietly, turning back to Kent.

"Your resemblance to your departed mother is uncanny," Kent said, a soft smile rising to his lips.

"Did you know her?" Lyn asked somewhat hopefully.

Kent shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry to say that I never met her directly. But I saw her portraits in Castle Caelin. Your face is somewhat slimmer, and you must have your father's eyes… But there is no doubt in my mind. You are the Lady Lyndis."

Lyn nodded, her shoulders drooping.

"To the people of my tribe I was always just Lyn," she said in a small voice. "But when I was with my parents… When it was just the three of us, I was Lyndis."

She turned away to look out the window, where twilight had fallen over the commercial city now.

"It's all so strange," she commented. "A few days ago I was all alone in the world. Then I tripped over Mark, and now I even have a Grandfather…"

"Wait, that's how you found me? You accidentally kicked me?" Mark piped up, earning a chuckle from Lyn and Sain.

"Lyndis," Lyn repeated. "I never thought I would hear that name again."

"Wait," Mark said, holding up a forestalling hand as he stroked his chin. "That bandit… he called you Lyndis, too."

"What!?" Kent asked, hands flat on the table between them. "How could he have…"

"He was a henchman of Lord Lundgren, wasn't he?" Sain asked with a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Who?" Mark and Lyn both asked at the same time.

"He's the marquess' younger brother," Kent explained, looking right at Lyn. "He is your Grand-Uncle."

"And to be blunt, milady," Sain added. "You are an obstacle to his plans to seize power."

Silence settled over the room, broken only when Mark sighed, massaging the skin between his eyes.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he asked no one in particular.

That evening Mark found himself lying on his bed, staring up at the same ceiling from the previous night. Anna had been just as attentive to their needs as she had been the previous evening, even if she did give the two knights strange looks and a wide berth, much to Sain's apparent displeasure. The quartet spent the evening discussing travel plans, and Mark even got his first look at a local map. They would travel across the plains until they hit the mountains, then go over the mountains, then…

Mark sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

"Just what did I get myself into here?" he asked the empty room again.

Of course, no answer was forthcoming.

According to the stories his mother told him, his ancestor had been little older than he had been when they had set out on their own journey, but under very different circumstances than his own. Mark gave thanks to whatever local gods there were that he hadn't been sucked into leading an army like they had. But still, he had been planning on something a little… smaller in scale. A few mercenaries perhaps; even his previous agreement with Lyn had been satisfactory. Now they would be travelling hundreds of leagues to confront an evil tyrant and gods-above only knew what else. It was more than Mark had been prepared for, if he were honest.

A light knock at his door echoed through the small room before it opened, Lyn peeking through the crack.

"Mark, are you awake?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah," he sighed, spinning to face her and indicating she take a seat.

"I… heard you talking," she said, somewhat timidly.

"I talk to myself a lot," Mark shrugged. "They say that smart people apparently do that. Well, my mom said that, so I don't know how trustworthy a source that is…"

Lyn chuckled a little as she perched on the edge of her chair, fiddling with her hands and squirming a little as she looked at the floor between their feet. She was tense; Mark could tell something was bothering her, but he had no idea where to start. After everything that had happened to her in the last few months, of course she would have problems, but her level of problems seemed to be far above what he was prepared to deal with, and rising still given everything that happened that day.

"Mark, you do not have to come with us," Lyn said in a small voice, as if reading the young tactician's entire earlier thought process. "I… would understand if you did not."

Mark looked at her as she bowed her head low, scrunching herself up as if waiting for him to reject her. In that moment Lyn looked so fragile that a soft breeze would shatter her into a thousand pieces, and Mark found himself unable to abandon her.

"Er… aw what the hell," Mark sighed. "I'm still in. You'll get yourselves killed without a decent strategist around, so I'm in. Besides, this is the kind of thing I was looking for; a chance to put my profession to use. This is a little above the level of what I was chasing, but no one said being a tactician is a safe job."

Lyn's face snapped up, her shining eyes settling on Mark's grinning face.

"Truly?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Mark said with a grin. "I promised to be your tactician. I hold promises in high regard, so I'm in."

Lyn looked down again, letting out a small sniffle.

"Thank you, Mark," she said in a cracking voice. "You have no idea… what that means to me."

"After what I've heard it sounds like you could use all the friends you can get," Mark said softly, reaching out and resting a hand on Lyn's shoulder. "But you should get some rest. We've got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."

Lyn nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand before standing.

"I know," she said, smiling down at the tactician. "And… thank you again, Mark. I cannot say that enough."

The young tactician grinned a little as Lyn offered him a small wave while she returned to her own room, letting out a breath once she was finally gone and throwing himself backwards onto the bed.

"Guess I'm in for the long-haul now," he muttered to himself, staring up at the ceiling again. "Could be worse. I'm not leading an army, at least."

AN: I'll say it right now; this is an old game. There are a lot of amazing versions of this story out there already. A LOT. I'm doing this for me, because I can and because I want to. I'm doing this in my established style, with characters I grew up with and the game and stunningly beautiful story that introduced me to this series. This game meant a lot to me, and I want to share the awe and joy that it gave me with others. As with my previous story I will be splitting it up into at least three separate arcs for ease of my own digital housekeeping (plus calling them 'Arcs' makes me feel all fancy and stuff); there will be a Lyn arc (A Daughter of Caelin), an Eliwood arc (A Knight of the Realm) and a Hector arc (A Lord of Lycia). And if we go into extra innings, a Mark arc, too (which I really hope we do, because Blood of Heroes sounds so cool in my head). Or course, aside from Lyn's arc these are all WIP names. However I really have no idea how long it will be. I really don't. Let's just say 'exceedingly' and leave it at that.

Follow me on Twitter for updates! - metalloverCAB