Mark listened to the sounds permeating through the terrain. What was most primarily heard was the impact of iron tunneling tools scraping against the unkempt and buried earth.
He turned to the major.
"Has this sort of thing happened before? It's a first for me."
Paul scoffed.
"Of course, this is the first time you experienced a tunnel, you haven't even been here for a while. Compared to the years I was forced to stay in this hell, your time here only feels like a blink of my eyes. Anyway, help me up. I need to tell our suppliers to get the explosives out."
Grumbling, Mark rose and then with a heave, he brought the beaten major to his feet. They both brushed the dirt off of their clothing in vain, but at least got a decent part of the dust off.
Looking once more at the sound of the tunneling, Paul regarded Mark with a stern gaze.
"This might get a bit dangerous but I need you to look over the site while I am gone. If anything happens, the first line of defense is up to you, ok?"
With equal solemnity, Mark nodded and watched as the major turned around and half-limped away. A few seconds passed without any movement of the eyes, until finally, the man was out of sight.
Sighing, he turned around and walked away.
Stay? Why would he do that? It's an unnecessary risk for him to confront the tunnelers by himself. There was little difference between having one person keep guard and leaving the spot empty against an invading group. The only thing it would lead to was an untimely death.
He had much more use than as cannon fodder for the war. Never had Mark been more intent on holding onto his life than in a place where he felt so close to death.
Approaching the closest soldier he could find, he poised himself akin to a general as his steps hardened. The man sprawled on the ground looked up with undisguised confusion and disgruntlement.
Pointing to the area he had just come from, he took up a stern tone.
"There is a tunnel breaching us over there. Go and help the others fortify it while reinforcements come."
The soldier stirred but still moved slowly. Seeing this, Mark amplified the effect of his ability, bringing forth a calamitous sensation of urgency to the poor individual.
"Get up! Don't you want to serve your country? Protect your family? We can't afford to be breached at this point. Now go! Let's get that hole covered before there are holes in our bodies!"
Panicking, the man who was previously stumbling on the ground immediately rose and began to run in the indicated direction. The reason for the slowness probably had to do with malnutrition or illness, but that didn't matter all too much to Mark anymore. All he needed to do was make sure that people were defending in his place.
He went to more idling soldiers and invigorated them in a similar fashion, experimenting with his ability in the process. At times he inspired through fear, at other times he shocked them into movement with happiness and gratitude for the cause. Mostly, the simple invocation of passion was more than enough to get the job done.
After he had brought about a rush of people to the tunneling point, Mark began to slow down. The zone was far enough at this point, so he wasn't in much danger. He broke into a leisurely walk while still stopping at times when there were people to be stirred into action.
His mind began to host random thoughts. Reminiscent of his small window of peace and luxury with the brunette in the city, he thought of one of the places that had most memorably stuck in his mind.
The greatest performance of skill he had seen in his life was that of a puppet master they had visited. With precise manipulation of strings, the woman spectacularly controlled a puppet that was in turn commanding two puppets of its own.
It was kind of like how Paul wanted Mark to do his bidding, but instead of risking himself, he was taking charge of others so that they would cover his problems instead.
A chain of command had been established under the chaos of the trenches, allowing for a coherent union to fight against the invading enemy.
'...'
He froze as his memory of the string performance continued. Though rather than the eloquent marionettist, it was the brunette that had caught his attention.
She was looking passively at the stunning spectacle, as if unintrigued. Though he was certain at the time that she must have felt some sort of joy on watching the scene, slightly confusing him.
Her delicate mouth softly opened as she responded to his impressed statement on the performer.
"There are strings on the performer too. She might be able to control her puppets better than anyone else, but that doesn't mean that she can't be manipulated either. Whether it is the manager overseeing her or the masters of the theatre that direct them both, she ultimately plays to the tune of someone else, even if it isn't so apparent."
Sighing, the brunette continued with a tinge of regret put into her tone.
"It's a shame that we live in a world where people are reliant on people controlling others. Though that's kind of the essence of society itself. Still, maybe if the marionettist were more free, we might have been able to witness a show even more passionate than this."
Mark snapped back to the present, her words still resounding in his mind.
True to what she said, he had recently been thinking that most relationships come with unsaid regulations attached. No matter how imperceivable they were, the fact remains that they existed.
It made him question what kind of unsaid circumstances came with his connection to the brunette if there were any in the first place.
Before he could think too far into it, a chorus of shouts, screams, and shrieks echoed from further in the trench.