Yay, another chapter for all of one reviewer... which is probably why it took so long.

"Ah, such an exquisite rose you are, my dear," said Virion, he who is the snipest of snipers, the third in command of The Shepherds, and the sweetheart of ladies everywhere because, let's face it, he's sexy as all hell. Unfortunately, the buxom lady with hair as golden as the Ylissian Sun and eyes as blue as the seas of Rosanne is doing an admirable job resisting his charms. He was expecting no less, for only the best would have been made a member of the crew of the SS Vigilant.

"Such beauty as yours is a rare thing to be able to bask in," he continued, letting loose a content sigh, "Indeed, it is invigorating even being in your presence, for my very soul is being cleansed in your radiance." He paused as he drank in her reaction: a carefully blank expression with a single raise of an eyebrow.

Ah, the patience of a saint she must possess to not roll her eyes at him yet!

"With all due respect, sir, I've been up for nearly thirty-six hours straight…"

"Further proof of your radiance," Virion interrupted, "for the ravages of exhaustion have not sullied your beauty in any noticeable way."

"…and I would like for you to sign this form so I can finally end my double shift and get some sleep," she said, completely ignoring him (woe be to him!) before adding, with the first hints of irritation creeping into her tone, "Sir."

"Ah, but of course, my dear," he said, extending his arm to take the document into his hand, "for sleep is always an important endeavor." He quickly scanned through the document, finding everything satisfactory before signing it, ending his signature with a flourish because that's just how he rolls. He handed back the document to her, who gave him a nod before leaving the bridge via elevator.

"I am continuously astonished that the various females on board this vessel are willing to weather your constant coquetry. You are immensely fortunate to have not been indicted with sexual harassment." said a voice behind him, cold and clinical and yet also somehow melodious. There is little doubt in his mind that no species is better at arousing others with nary but their voice than a Sidhe. He turned the command chair so that it would once more face forward, and looked over to Miriel, sitting over to his left at the sensors station.

Miriel is one of only three Sidhe on board, and is also the highest ranking amongst them, denoted by her silver uniform. The shade of the uniform usually denotes one's rank: Black goes to trainees and ensigns, various shades of grey goes to mid-tier personnel, silver goes to the command crew and are the highest rank outside of the captain, who wears white. These ranks are further divided by the colors on their collar, which denote which sector they are a part of: Green are the engineers, blue are the science officers, yellow are the pilots and navigators, red are the security officers, purple are the medical officers, orange are the communications officers, and the poor schmucks stuck with white are usually responsible for the food. Outside of that, the exact structure of command are dependent from captain to captain. For example, he himself is third in command despite being a pilot while Frederick, the highest ranking security officer, is second in command. Another ship might have the highest ranking engineer as second in command, or the highest ranking science officer. Heck, theoretically even the highest ranking cook could be given that duty, though he has yet to see anyone actually be stupid enough to do that. Unless your cook has some hidden credentials, there is little doubt in his mind that such a placement would only end in misery and failure.

On a more personal note, he can't help but find the uniforms to be a bit too skintight. Not to the point where they restrict movement, and from a practical standpoint they are very easy to get on and off. The problem is… that they leave very little for the imagination; and he likes to exert his imagination! Furthermore, in his mind at least, the uniforms encourage people (especially the men) to ogle people of the opposite gender. Now, don't get him wrong, Virion likes to set his sights on a beautiful rose as any other man, but not to the point where he is caressing them with his eyes. Admiring beauty is like drinking fine wine: one should take small sips so they can savor the flavor, not gulp it all down in one go. Not unless they want to make a buffoon of themselves and do something that will undoubtedly result in a slap.

Issues of ogling are moot anyways when it comes to Miriel due to the dark brown cloak she is wearing over her uniform that denotes her as a member of the Anima tribe, one of three tribes of Sidhe. Each tribe is divided based on the type of magic they use, the anima tribe being the users of elemental spells, fire in Miriel's specific case. With the exception of those blessed by Naga (or Grima) and Faeries to assist their flight capabilities, Sidhe are the only magic users in the universe, with 90% of their species being able to use it. As such, Sidhe are very proud of their magical abilities, and when the first Sidhe was asked to join Yllissian military, one of their concessions is that they get to keep their cloaks, even when on duty.

The thick cloth obscured her body all the way down to her hips and all the way up to her neck, though leaving her collar bare so one can see that she is a science officer. The cloak would undoubtedly have covered more of the body if it weren't for the long white tail dipping downwards and touching the ground. It took some doing to modify the uniforms (or the chairs, for that matter) to accommodate them, but they finally managed. Her hands glide over the command console, quickly typing away at speeds professional writers dream they can go at. Speaking from personal experience, he also knows that Sidhe fingers are a great deal harder to break than human fingers, and that they also have retractable claws.

Starting from between the eyes is a thin ridge that rises up the head and connecting with a thin, but several inch long crest. Some of his sources (and by sources he means men who don't know how to hold their liquor) say that the crest is an erogenous zone, but he not so disgusting as to seduce a Sidhe just so he can find out. Behind her crest and temples and going to the base of the back of the skull are what look like fiery red hairs that are in fact fine down feathers. At the back of the skull is what looks like a ponytail that falls to just below the shoulder and covered in (far more noticeable) feathers the same shade of the feathers on the rest of her head. The "ponytail" is not actually a ponytail at all, but an extension of the skull and believed to house the part brain that gives the Sidhe their magical abilities. Much like the rest of the bones, the "ponytail" is made of a type of bone that mimics the flexibility of cartilage without losing the durability of solid bone.

While from a distance one can be forgiven for assuming that Sidhe have skin like humans do, Sidhe are actually cove with scales so small one would need to be within kissing range to see each individual scale. The scales on her face are maroon, and go down the front of her neck before slipping beneath her collar. The rest of her scales are white. Personally speaking, he cannot fathom the usefulness of such a color scheme from the perspective of survival (or why Sidhe have both scales and feathers, but then again, he is not a biologist). However, if he had to make a guess, each tribe is probably changed by the magic they use. Perhaps as they grow accustomed to a type of magic, their bodies change accordingly to better use said magic. After all, users of light magic take on a somewhat different look from users of elemental magic. He won't know if his theory is correct until he runs into dark magic users, though.

After a moment, she noticed his gaze on her, and stopped typing, turning her head to look at him, her green eyes staring into his.

"Have I committed an affront against you?" she said with the raise of an eyebrow.

"Why do you assume I must be affronted to gaze upon the radiance of your form?" Virion asked.

"You seldom gaze upon me unless you have an important rationale to acquire our attention." She fixed him with a stare. "Do you find my scales to be abhorrent, mayhap?"

If it were anyone else, they would not have known that the Sidhe was teasing. Fortunately, Virion is well versed in her mannerisms and took it all in stride in a way only he could: he clutched his heart with both hands, mock anguish crossing his face as he said, "You wound me."

Having had ample opportunity to learn how to read Miriel's body language, he was able to catch the slight twitch in her left eye, a sign that she had suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Striking while the iron is hot, he continued, "Do you truly believe me to be so shallow? Do you truly think that I believe that beauty is only skin deep? That I would ever ostracize women just because they are not human? Do you truly believe I'm such a cad?"

It was a performance of a lifetime, the sadness and held back tears of his anguish quite clearly heard, the crack in his voice at the end being the piece de resistance. Anyone with a heart would be moved by the brilliance of his performance.

"Correct," said Miriel, turning back to her console.

...Then again, he is dealing with a Sidhe in general and Miriel in particular. Sidhe has always been the least emotional of all the races, and Miriel is considered stoic even by Sidhe standards. Any attempt to get anything more than the slightest emotional response met with abject failure. The most he has gotten out of her was clinical fascination.

Still, he won't let his failures get to him, so he replied in a goodnatured manner, "And here I was genuinely interested in assisting you with your… project."

Not bothering to stop typing, Miriel said, "While my desire to experiment on the tactile sensation of human skin on my scales during moments of heated intimacy, I have unfortunately been unable to discover an adequate test subject that I am confident would exert the satisfactory effort. As for yourself specifically, I had promptly dismissed you as a probable test subject due to the added variable of your promiscuity."

If he were drinking anything, Virion would have sprayed it all over the bridge. "I'll have you know that I have only taken that step with people I have an actual interest in. And besides that, I use protection."

"It is debatable if body armor is contextually under that definition."

"I may be a cad, my dear, but I am not a fool," he fired back, "And besides, even if I were a fool, wouldn't any woman be willing to bear my child?"

"In point of fact, after several calculations, I have determined, within an infinitesimally small margin of error, that such a female is essentially nonexistent."

"Ouch," Virion groaned, once again clutching his heart, "do you have to stab the knife in and twist it for all its worth? At this rate, I'm going to start…"

"Commander!" cut in a voice, urgency apparent in his voice. Virion's eyes immediately hardened, the playfulness in them dying out as he swiveled his chair so that he is once again facing forward and glanced over to the communications officer.

"Report," he said, the flirtatious and overly dramatic man replaced by the third in command of the SS Vigilant and current acting captain.

"We have picked up an emergency distress signal on long range channels."

"Put it on speakers."

There was a pause as tense silence filled the room. This was soon followed by static and a garbled voice came through: "We are under atta… they came out... where. we have take... request assist… Ylisse vessel. We repeat… from nearest Yli…"

Virion has heard enough.

"Officer Miriel, can you…"

"I have already triangulated the location of the distress signal, acting captain," she said. Annoyance flared briefly within his chest. Sidhe have always had a problem taking orders, and are prone to taking their own initiative. He quickly brushed aside his annoyance: in this particular case very little harm was done.

"Where?" Virion asked.

"Southtown Space Station," she said, before glancing over to him and adding, "it is dangerously close to the Plegian border." That means it is more than likely a pirate attack. Or perhaps the Plegians have decided to launch the long awaited attack everyone knows is coming.

Virion glanced over to the pilot. "Lieutenant Darwin, how far away are we from the station?"

"Fifteen minutes at maximum speed, sir."

"Good, I want you to drop out of FTL drive two minutes before we reach our destination, and cover the rest of the distance on impulse. I want the ship to be out of range of the space station sensors." If this is a pirate attack, than they would more than likely have already taken the station. Staying out of range would give them more time to prepare their assault.

He turns to the security officer. "Lieutenant Owen, I want shields and weapons on standby, as well as the rest of security. Awaken them if you must."

"I'm on it, Commander."

He turns to the communications officer. "Ensign Vargas, get me a comm link with the captain. I believe he is escorting our new friend to the infirmary."

Finally, he turns back to Miriel. "How long before we are within range of our own sensors?"

"Five minutes, tops."

"Once we are in range, I want you to scan the area for Plegian power signatures, including within the station. I want to know their numbers and possible ship classes before we arrive. I also want to know the layout of the station."

"The station will interfere with sensor readings. I may be unable to acquire concise enough readings of plegian signatures within the actual station itself."

"Do the best you can. I want this all before the captain reaches the bridge."

"As you command, acting captain."

"Sir," spoke up Ensign Vargas, "I have the captain on comms."

"patch me through to him," Virion said, raising his hand to his ear to listen to his ear piece. Moments later, a clear voice was heard on the other end saying, "This is Chrom."

"Captain, we are in a bit of a situation…"

Fire Emblem Awakening:

Masters of Fate

Interlude One: Stranger in a Strange Ship

"Milord, you are too trusting sometimes," Said Frederick, walking stride for stride beside his liege down a long corridor. As they walked, several of the ship's personnel step out of their way and salute before continuing on with what they were doing. "We know very little about this man."

"That is kind of what happens when you help a stranger," said Chrom, "and I'm not going to stop helping people just because I know nothing about them. We are Shepherds, Frederick, and we help the helpless regardless of who they are, where they have come from, and what they have done."

"But milord, his vessel had floated over from Plegian territory. You saw the data as much as I did."

"That does not mean he is Plegian or that he is our enemy. He could have been in Plegia for any number of reasons."

"He is wearing the cloak of a Plegian Sidhe."

"It could simply be a fashion statement. You know as well as I do how many people like to pretend they can use magic by wearing the same clothing as the Sidhe. Besides, it is just the normal cloak of Anima mages. It's far better than wearing a dark mage's outfit, considering the stigmas involved." Frederick resisted the urge to shudder at that thought. It is well known how the dark mage cloaks have been coopted for cosplay purposes by a certain… group with interesting fetishes; because of them, the dark mage cloaks have been universally equated with submission.

Worst part about it, he has this sinking feeling that Sully has her own pair along with other… tools of the trade. Naga have mercy on him if she does.

Frederick shook the thoughts from his mind and said, "But what about the mark of the Grimleal on his hand? He was very flustered when he saw it."

"Considering how sinister most of the stories about the Grimleal are, I would be flustered too," said Chrom.

"But you are missing the big picture here, milord."

"And what am I missing, Frederick?" said Chrom, stopping in the middle of the corridor and turning to look at his first officer.

"Grimleal prevent any that join the faith from leaving," said Frederick, also stopping, "Any that attempt to escape are killed on sight. As such, it is rare for any that have joined the Grimleal to attempt to escape. More likely he was a spy sent by the Grimleal to learn what they can about our defenses in preparation for war."

"First off, we have no proof that Plegia is preparing for war."

"Bandits have been attacking from their borders for months now. Even as we speak, there is another attack in progress."

"And as much as I think you are correct in that assessment, Emm is right about us having no proof. They are innocent until proven guilty, and until we have proof we must assume they are innocent. We do not want to be dragged down to their level." He glared at Chrom, who met it with a steady gaze of his own. After a few moments, Frederick caved and sighed in defeat.

"Secondly," said Chrom as he resumed striding towards the elevator which would take them to the bridge, Frederick close behind, "if he were a spy, why does he bare the mark of the Grimleal? Why is he wearing Plegian clothes and why did he come over from the border of Plegia? I very much doubt they would be so obvious in their attempts to plant a spy in our ranks."

"Maybe that is the whole point," said Frederick, "maybe they want to have their spy hidden in plain sight. People would assume that the Grimleal would never send someone so obviously a member of their faith and thus would conclude that he must be on the run from them instead."

"You are being paranoid, Frederick."

"It is my job to be paranoid, milord."

"No, it's your job to be wary," said Chrom, "Your Frederick the Wary not Frederick the Oh-My-Gods-There-Is-A-Sniper-In-Every-Tower!" Frederick glanced away, embarrassed. In his defense, he was suffering from sleep deprivation and had taken high quantities of cough syrup.

Frederick cleared his throat before saying, "…Well… there was a sniper in one of those towers."

"Yes, but he happened to be one of our own. He still wants you to pay for the damage to his shoes, by the way."

"I'll be sure to do that, but milord, you're changing the subject. How did he know your name?"

Chrom responded with an incredulous look before replying, "In case you have forgotten, I happen to be the prince of an entire nation. That would mean I'm a celebrity who probably had his face and name plastered on billions of TVs." They reach the elevator and Chrom presses the button that will call the elevator to their floor.

"Then why was that the first thing he remembered?"

"Well, from what Maribelle has told me, after that one time I had a concussion, one of the symptoms is confusion. It is not uncommon for a concussion victim to have his memories a bit scrambled. The sight of me is probably what allowed him to dredge up that particular memory of me."

There was a brief pause as Frederick mulled over their argument before finally saying, "I do not trust him, milord."

"You said that about half the Shepherds at one point or another," said Chrom with a snort, "Don't you remember how much you hated Vaike when he first joined?"

"The man knocked you unconscious! You were in the infirmary for an entire day!"

"What about Virion? You remember what you said about him?"

"… I said… that a disgraced noble is a noble without honor, and that we should be cautious of any attempts at backstabbing."

"Right, and when Miriel joined, you said, and I quote, 'Anyone with such impeccable diction cannot be trustworthy.'" Frederick raised an eyebrow at Chrom's impression of him.

"And let's not even forget about Ricken, who was at one point dealing with chronic flat…"

"I believe you have made your point, milord," cut in Frederick, "but as I've already said, we know next to nothing about this man. At least have me send someone down to keep an eye on him."

With a sigh, Chrom ran a hand through his hair before finally saying, "Very well, if it will put you at ease, Frederick."

"I've already taken the liberty of asking Kellam."

Chrom raised an eyebrow at him. "Kellam? Why Kellam?"

"So I take it you never realized he's been tailing him since we left the shuttle bay?" Said Frederick with a smile.

Chrom blinked at him before saying, "Ah. That's why."

"Indeed," said Frederick, before shaking his head and saying, "how a man that size can be so clandestine is beyond me." The elevator door dinged and opened. They both stepped inside, with Chrom saying, "Maybe he has ninja ancestry?"

The door closed, with Chrom pushing the button to the bridge while Frederick stroked his jaw in thought. "It is something I can look into," said Frederick. A silence engulfed the two as the elevator headed towards the bridge. While the silence was pleasant at first, the atrocious music soon made it awkward. He was meaning to do something about the Grima damned elevator music, but he hadn't had the time.

Finally, not able to stand the awkwardness any longer, Chrom said, "So… what's with you and Sully?"

Frederick barely resisted the urge to groan.

A few minutes after the prince left, Luke finally remembered the exact circumstances of his first meeting. It was a memory he hadn't wanted to have dredged up. Admittedly, though, he has so many memories he wishes he could forget it would be impossible not to simply turn around and see something that reminded him of his past. He has pretty much succeeded in pissing off every influential person in the entire galaxy, with the exception of the Valmese, and that is only because they are robotic and can't feel the emotions needed to hate him.

Then again, it wouldn't shock him if they developed an algorithm just so they could hate him specifically.

Honestly, he should be trying to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. If the Exalt were to catch wind of who the prince has picked up… well, let's just say that Grima himself would gag at the torment she would inflict on him. After all, Grima has no fury like a woman scorned, and oh my has he scorned her. He has scorned the shit out of her.

On the bright side, he might get a medal for accomplishing a beyond the impossible task of pissing off the Exalt.

So yes, once he's been given his check up, he should really give a polite "thank you" and leave as soon as his ship is able. Yet, he can't help but wonder if fate is involved in this meeting. After all, what are the chances that he would be injured and his ship damaged (and he still doesn't know how that happened, and has a suspicion he will never know) on the border of Plegia and Ylisse? That he would be picked up by the crown prince of Ylisse? That of all the memories he has come to regret, the actions against the Exalt is the one that he has given the most contemplation on absolving himself of? With the increase in tensions between Ylisse and Plegia, he is given the perfect opportunity to help the prince (and by extension, the Exalt) and cleanse himself of his past sin. After all, in the coming war (because let's face it: it's coming and there is nothing anyone can do about that), they will have great use in a tactician like himself. His involvement could be the difference between victory and defeat for Ylisse.

Luke can't help but feel a bitter irony that the only way to absolve himself is to participate in a war between Plegia and Ylisse.

Of course, that all assumes that he can convince the prince to let him assist. Tacticians are probably some of the most important people in any war, with a bad tactician squandering any tactical advantages (superior numbers, equipment, position, etc) while a good tactician can get the most out of what they have. It's not like Ylisse would hold auditions for such a person, and even if they did, why would they hand the reins to someone like himself, who for all they know is a spy (one would be shocked at how useful it is for infiltration purposes to use the reverse psychology method of being blatant about where you came from). What type of idiot would trust some random person that they found out in the middle of nowhere who has an issue even remembering his own name?

He would kill such a person himself for their stupidity. It would be the merciful thing to do.

Add on to that is the (rightly so) paranoia of his knight, Frederick. It would be extremely difficult (if not outright impossible) to convince that man of his trustworthiness. Not without several successful battle plans, a successful friendship with the prince, and two years of good behavior.

Let's face it, the only way Luke is going to ever get Frederick completely on his side is if he seduced him.

Hmmm…

The signs of Frederick's paranoia are rather obvious for him to pick up. Admittedly, he had assumed that the ever present sign of being watched came from Frederick (which they were). It wasn't until Frederick had left with the prince that he felt the second set of eyes watching him. However, he has been unable to pinpoint the location of this person without looking behind him. Whoever it is either has some training in stealth…

"...And that was when my brother tripped and he fell into the pool with his arms flailing and it took Frederick and Sully nearly a minute to get him out while me and Emm laughed our asses off…"

...Or he simply can't hear the mysterious person over the chatter of Lissa, who is apparently the princess, though she hardly acts it. If he were the prince, he would be taking a DNA test, pronto. Seriously, he pretty sure she hasn't taken a single breath since the prince and Frederick left… nearly two minutes ago.

"...And then I saw Emm running the usual laps with Frederick and his knights and was shocked that she could even keep up with them without even sweating and I was pretty sure even Frederick was sweating at that point…"

He has since decided to tune her out… a decision he came up with about ten seconds into her one-sided dialogue. He has far more pressing concerns than her inane ramblings. After all, he is still not sure how he is going to convince the prince to make use of him… as a tactician, of course. He supposes that he could simply just go right out there and say that he is a tactician, but he has little doubt that Frederick would immediately voice his suspicions on the matter. Quite frankly, in such a situation, the prince would have little reason to trust him over his personal knight.

"...And that was when my brother lifted his beheaded head up, saying, 'He could not hope to stand against the son of Ronen'..."

He supposes he could try to help them with this bandit problem, but frankly he can't help but think that he would be insulting them by doing so. He doubts the Exalt would surround her brother with amateurs. They could easily deal with mere ruffians, regardless of if they are being sponsored by Plegia or not. After all, unless the Plegians are idiots or crazy, the most they would do is equip the bandits with better weapons.

"...And then he said, 'I'm the bone of my sword' and that was when he really started to kick ass…"

But what else can he do? Unless the war were to break out while on the ship (and even he wouldn't be so much of an asshole as to wish for the war to happen now), there is very little he can do to show off his abilities. He will only have at most a couple of days before his ship is fixed and Frederick will more than likely force him to leave. Not a lot of time for new opportunities to pop up.

"...Than my brother fired a rainbow from his sword that completely expunged all the evil from the creature and in the creature's place stood our older sister and that is how Emm became the eternal ruler of Ylisse!"

Dammit! Isn't it not a tactician's job to notice the smallest details and plan accordingly? There must be something he's missing. There must be something he can… wait, what did she just say about Emm?

"Did you just say that the prince shot a rainbow laser at the Exalt?" Luke asked, cutting her off somewhere around "laser sword duel between her and her evil father" (yeah, like that's remotely plausible).

She stopped walking, burst out into victorious laughter and jabbed a finger at him, saying, "I knew you weren't listening! No one ever listens!"

"I was listening," someone said behind him. He could barely resist the urge to jump. How in the world did he not sense that guy if he was so close?

He turned around to see the man standing behind, a plasma rifle in his hands, obviously ready to shoot him in the head at the first sign of trouble. Other than his slightly above average height, there is nothing remotely remarkable about the man in front of him. It's like Naga had accidentally set the stove on bland when baking him and decided she didn't want to bother making another. It would be shockingly easy for this man to slip in and out of a crowd (or even a room with only one other person, for that matter) and not be noticed. Honestly, if it weren't for the military grade armor, he would assume that this man was some kind of spy.

"Let me guess," Luke said, "Your name's John Smith, isn't it?"

"No," the man said, giving him a confused look, "it's Kellam."

"Really? You should change it to John, than. It would fit you a lot better."

"Why would I do that," asked Kellam, still obviously confused, "My parents named me Kellam."

"Yeah, but John is much more generic." Kellam finally seemed to catch on to what he was implying, and visibly had to hide his anger. Looks like he still has it: pissing people off since 2020… which in retrospect is the one thing he shouldn't be doing. After all, he's trying to gain their trust, and he's pretty sure that angry people are less inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Oops.

"Anyway," Luke said, turning towards Lissa, "What was with the rambling?"

"I always do that with new people," she replied as she continued walking, him following. He had to strain to remember that Kellam was standing behind him. Does that man have some kind of spell on him or something? Does he put on an "invisibility cologne" before he heads out?

"So your plan to make new friends is to annoy them into oblivion?" Luke asked, and when she nodded, he said with a shrug, "sounds reasonable."

"If you're insane," said Kellam, obviously still unhappy with him.

"Isn't it," said Lissa simultaneously, nearly drowning out Kellam's voice. "But actually, I'm just curious how long it takes for people to tune me out. They usually last around six seconds."

Well, good to know that he is slightly more patient than the average person that speaks to her. "And who lasted the longest?"

"Miriel, at a whooping thirty seconds," she said, before adding with a grimace, "She could have gone longer if she hadn't posed a question to me. She somehow timed out when I was taking my breathes."

"I wasn't aware you were breathing," said Kellam.

"I know, right! I worked so hard to make it seem like I was speaking in a single breathless voice!" That… is actually rather depressing. It really speaks of how sheltered she must be to develop such a, at best, situational skill. Well, if he needs someone to talk the enemy to death, at least he knows who to call. He's betting even the monsters of their nightmares would run away in terror at her inane ramblings.

"So that was done for your own amusement?" Luke asked.

"Well, that and it helps give people something to talk about. You'd be surprised at how willing people are to talk about the weird or annoying things other people do, even if they have to talk about it with the very person who did the weird or annoying thing!"

...He can't decide if that is fiendishly clever, insanely idiotic, or stupidly insane. That's of course assuming that it isn't a strange amalgamation of all three. Still, he has to admit that the technique gets results.

"Ah, we're here!" Lissa's voice draws his attention to the door which slides open upon Lissa's approach. Luke glanced in so he can get his first sight of this ship's infirmary.

He couldn't help but notice how white the room is. At first glance he thought that the floor was made of white marble before realizing that someone did a masterful job duplicating the look of marble. The ceiling, fifteen feet high, has two lights, both of them set on low illumination. The walls, also white, have this sheen to it that makes it look like someone imbedded diamonds into the wall. One could be easily mistaken in assuming that the look was for decorative purposes, but he knows the signs of long-lasting magic when he sees it. Someone had structurally reinforced the infirmary walls to decrease the chances of collapse. Presumably, the same was done with other important rooms on the ship. Lined up against the wall on his left are six beds, while on the opposite wall are four more. Surprising, considering that in a infirmary like this one he usually sees cots. Someone spared no expense for the comfort of the patients. In the back is another bed that looks like it was quarantined from the rest of the room, even given its own light source (turned off). Its his guess that the area is for more complex medical procedures like surgery or perhaps for any contagious diseases.

On the right side of the room, there is an opened door dividing the four beds, with two on each side. Presumably, the door leads to the chief medical officers work station. Lending credence to his deduction is the music coming from the room. He identifies it to be classical elven music, the one-woman wail being nearly omnipresent during their classical era.

Whoever is in that room is probably an aristocrat of some kind. Such music is not easy to procure due to the fact that Elves have a rather secluded society and rarely share their cultural achievements with others, even more so nowadays due to the Valm Empire's recent thirst for conquest. To have acquired even this must have cost a fortune. The only reason he is able to recognize the music is because he is one of the few non-Elves to have been in one of their cities.

Needless to say, since he loves making friends, they would probably put him on the execution block if he were to ever return.

"I'm back, Maribelle," announced Lissa, prancing into the room. After a few moments, the music stops mid-wail, and coming out of the assumed workstation is a Sidhe of the Divine Clan, such distinctions made clear by being generally shorter than most other Sidhe (though still relatively tall by human standards) and by having short tails covered in feathers. The most noticeable trait, however, is the crest shaped like a zero that makes it look like the Sidhe has a halo over their heads. This particular Sidhe has silver scales across her face and gold scales and feathers across the rest of her body.

Her Pretoli (the ponytail-like protrusion from the back of the skull) goes down to her shoulder blades, meaning that her magical abilities are slightly above average for Sidhe, as the length of the Pretoli is directly proportional to the magical ability of the Sidhe (the shoulder being about the average length). What most people (besides groups with Sidhe fetishes) aren't aware of is that the Pretoli is also very sensitive, and slight tug being very pleasureable to the Sidhe while a harsh yank is very painful. It is often a sign of great trust to allow anyone to take hold of their Pretoli, seeing as the Sidhe is basically at the mercy of whoever is holding it.

He always gets a good laugh watching some buffoon attempt to arouse a Sidhe by caressing their crests, probably the least sensitive spot on a Sidhe body.

Anyway, of all the Sidhe Tribes, the only one who attempts to train this weakness out of them is the Elder Tribe. This, combined with the fact that Elder magic is quite painful to use, is the reason why the Elder mage cloaks have been coopted by S&M groups: it is believed that only lovers of pain would ever willingly be an Elder mage. While this is mostly an erroneous belief, Elder mages are the most secluded of all the tribes and thus they don't bother correcting those believes. It doesn't help matters that the few that do become noticed almost always fit the stereotype of Elder mages.

Maribelle (as he assumes her name is) has on a form fitting silver uniform with a blue collar and a snow white cloak over that. Well, cloak might be an overstatement, since it is clearly meant to be the traditional Sidhe cloaks of Divine mages, and just as clearly been modified to the point that it looks more like a bolero jacket, barely reaching her ribcage. He does admit, though, that when it comes to fashion, the new "cloak" is far more appealing than the traditional cloaks, which is presumably why it was modified in the first place.

"Oh, Darling, thank goodness you are alright!" Maribelle said, visibly restraining herself from hugging Lissa. Luke raised an eyebrow at her outburst. While Divine mages are as a general rule more open with their emotions, they are still quite stoic by comparison to other species. So seeing her so open with her emotions is somewhat dumbfounding and actually kind of funny. It would be like Emm… the Exalt bursting into a council room, declaring at the top of her lungs that she's decided to join Broadway.

...Great, now it's going to take all day to get that image out of his head.

Not noticing Luke visible struggle not to laugh, Lissa says, "Maribelle, I was only gone for fifteen minutes. Plus, I was only in the shuttle bay."

"A shuttle bay that had picked up an unknown passenger. Who knows what type of ruffian he could have been?"

"Considering the condition of the ship, I doubt he would have been much of a threat if he was hostile."

"A cornered animal is the most dangerous enemy of all. Now, I must insist that I scan you for injuries, Darling."

"Maribelle!" Luke watches with amused fascination, his fit of laughter having died down some time ago, as Maribelle bodily picks up a protesting Lissa and moves her to one of the beds, using her magic to scan Lissa for injuries. He can't decide whether her overprotectiveness is amusing or slightly disturbing. It's one thing to be concerned about the welfare of a friend, but this is like building your baby's nursery and bedroom inside a bunker surrounded by machine gun turrets, landmines, automated drones, an army of wyverns led by a man named Tim with a bomb placed in his chest set to explode at the first sign of betrayal, and with a lock on the bunker door . It's hard not to see that she's overreacting to what amounts to little more than a stroll with three well-armed and well-trained (well, two anyway; he's still unsure about Kellam) men.

On the other hand, he can't help but see her plight as the perfect opportunity to screw with them. As such, he loudly whispers to Kellam, knowing that Maribelle will at least hear him, "So… are those two making the beast with two backs?" Going by the twitch in Maribelle's left eye, she had most definitely heard him. She glanced over to him briefly, irritation and interest shining briefly in her gaze: interest because he just made a reference to an obscure play that very few commoners would recognize, irritation because of the implications of the reference.

Implications that Kellam completely missed. "Beast with two backs? Not to my knowledge. Maribelle does deal with genetic experimentation."

Resisting the urge to snort, Luke said, "Oh, so they aren't having dirty lesbian sex?" Another twitch. "In this very room?" Her lips thinned, as if she were biting back a retort. "In every possible position?"

Jackpot.

Before Kellam could reply, Maribelle, either finished with her diagnosize or not willing to listen to him talk for even another second, marched up to him and said, "Must you be so uncouth, you ruffian? I would never soil myself with such an improper action."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Lissa glance over to me, a smirk settling on her face. He replied with the slight raise of an eyebrow, giving his permission to enter the conversation. It seems that Lissa is going to avenge her earlier slight sooner rather than later.

"So you're saying that you see me as nothing more than dirt?" Said Lissa, giving Maribelle the puppy eyes look, Thus, when Maribelle turned around, she was caught by the full effects of it.

She never stood a chance.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Maribelle says, "While I admit to never having considered you in that light, we both know that my opinion about you has nothing in common with dirt." A smirk appeared on her lips. "And while you made a good show of it, darling, I have played this game much too often to be tricked into saying something scandalous."

...Because apparently Maribelle punts puppies on her days off. Its the only way to explain how she can completely ignore a masterfully done puppy eyes look.

Holding her hands behind her back and leaning down towards Lissa, a move that draws attention to the fact that she stands over fifteen centimeters taller than Lissa, Maribelle continued: "By this point, you have pretty much patented that maneuver. If you want to have material for the next couple of weeks to tease me with, dear, I would suggest trying something a bit more novel."

In response, Lissa stomped her feet, crossed her arms, and pouted. "You're no fun."

"I'm surprised that you expected that to work, " said Kellam. Maribelle spun around, tensing up as if preparing to defend herself, and only relaxed when she saw who it was.

"My apologies, darling, but I didn't see you come in. I swear, its as if you have on some kind of cologne that makes you invisible or something."

A woman after his own heart… which means he should probably prepare for attempts by her to murder him. Hmm, he might have to kill her first. It's the only way to be sure.

As Kellam grumbled to himself (he is pretty sure he caught "I wish it was cologne"), Maribelle once more turned back towards Lissa, and said, "Now, I assume you brought the ruffian here for a reason?"

"Maribelle!" she whispered… loudly, "It's rude to call someone that when you haven't even properly introduced yourself!" In a (marginally) louder voice, she added, "I brought him here so you can give him a check up. I think he might be suffering from a concussion."

Maribelle glanced over to Luke, giving him a once over before nodding to herself and saying with a sigh, "Well, Lissa is right about one thing, at least." She then walked over to him, arm outstretched. "Good day, sir. My name is Maribelle Astraz Fleuret Thessaly, daughter of the Duke of Themis."

Luke eyes widened, barely resisting the urge of his jaw to fall to the floor. Culturally, Sidhe do not have families, the children being given to the teachers of the tribe after they are born. From that moment on, it is usually frowned upon for the parents to treat the newborn any differently from other newborns within the tribe. This set up makes it so that the tribe itself is seen as the family, so if a Sidhe were to introduce themselves with a "family name", it would usually be with the tribe name, be it Divine, Anima, or Elder. Of course, like any civilization, there are those who reject the traditions of the tribe, and attempt to break off from the tribe. Such Sidhe are universally banished and treated no differently than an outsider.

However, such people are usually not given names, and while they might choose family names for themselves, such names are usually not given away as freely as she just did. To such Sidhe, the family name would be the most important thing to them, and to share it with another would be an invitation for the outsider to join their family. In other words, it is effectively the Sidhe equivalent of a marriage proposal.

There is, of course, another way for a Sidhe to gain a family name: by accomplishing a task so legendary it will be written into the echelons of Sidhe history. Through their deeds and actions, such people gain family names, and can choose to secede from the tribe with the blessing of the elders.

Such inclusions of family names, though, is exceedingly rare for Sidhe to gain. In his travels, he has met only two such Sidhe, neither of which had more than one family name. To have three would mean that she had three separate ancestors in her past that had performed actions worthy of gaining a family name. The amount of prestige her family has must be enormous. To Sidhe, she is tantamount to royalty.

She smiled at his reaction. "It seems you now know who you are speaking with. It has been said that the member of my family to gain the name "Astraz" had fought beside the Hero-King himself. So to say my family is quite important would be an understatement."

He resisted the urge to grimace. Luke decided not to voice his thoughts, though and instead shook her hand, saying, "My name is Luke."

She tilted her head, a frown adorning her lips. "No family name?"

"Not one I want to remember."

Maribelle nodded, curiosity clearing showing in her gaze, but she apparently thought better of it, because she simply replied, "I see." She paused, scrutinizing his features in an attempt to discover his secrets (he assumes that to be the reason, anyway), before adding, "Well, it is an exquisite… intrigue to meet you."

He resisted the urge to snort. "The pleasure is all Lissa's, I assure you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lissa roll her eyes, stifling a giggle.

She narrowed her eyes in response before saying, "You're still a ruffian in my book."

"You're prerogative," Luke said with a shrug.

She smirked before saying, turning towards Lissa, "Moving on to business, I do not believe the ruffian is suffering from a concussion, and if he is, I believe it to be a minor one at worst."

Lissa frowned. "But he was suffering from mental confusion, one of the signs of a concussion."

"Darling, there are many different possible reasons for symptoms like that. I won't know for certain what exactly is the cause for his symptoms until I give him a proper scan, however." She turns to Luke. "Seeing as you are my only patient, I might as well scan you in my office. The equipment I need is in their anyways." She turns towards her office, beckoning for him to follow.

"And what about myself, ma'am?" said Kellam, stopping Maribelle in her tracks.

She gave him a sheepish look (having apparently forgotten he was there again) before saying, "You can stand guard at the door to my office, dear." With those words, Maribelle walked into her office with Lissa behind her.

"She seems nice," said Luke, glancing over to Kellam.

"You caught her on a good day," said Kellam, "She can be a snobbish bitch sometimes."

Raising an eyebrow, Luke replied, "Probably shouldn't mention that to her."

Snorting, Kellam said, "She'll forget I said anything." He then gestured forward with his plasma rifle. "Wouldn't want the ladies waiting."

Luke nodded, walking into the office with Kellam trailing behind him, stopping at the opening to the office. Maribelle's office is a circular room, just as white as the rest of the infirmary. In the center of it stands a white desk with a well crafted white chair behind it, presumably paid for out of her own money. Maribelle pulled open a drawer, taking out a piece of equipment known as a Recover staff.

The term "staff" is actually a holdover from the ancient days, from around the time of the Hero-King's reign nearly 1000 years ago. Back in those days, the heal staff (and all healing items for that matter) was actually a staff held over the person that the healer wanted healed. Nowadays, the "staff" is now much smaller, able to be fit in the palm of the hand. In fact, with a brief utterance of a spell, it is meant to infuse itself into the palm, so the user doesn't need to worry about dropping it.

There are, of course, multiple different types of healing staffs that can be identified by the size and color of the gem. The Heal staffs are small blue gems that deal with relatively small wounds such as bruises and surface wounds. The Mend staff are slightly larger yellow gems that deal with much worse wounds, like broken bones or organ damage. The Physics staff are even larger green gems that function similar to the heal staff, but can be used from a distance, helping to facilitate a brief psychic link between healer and injured so the healer knows what is needed to be fixed. The largest is the Fortify staff, a large white gem that allows the healer to create a psychic link with multiple different people within a certain radius (which is determined by the healer's magical power), and heal said people. Last is the Recover staff, a violet gem shaped like a butterfly used for advanced diagnosis, such as to check for diseases, possible foreign contaminants, magical impairments (such as curses), or mental trauma

Of interesting note is the fact that, of the three magic types, Divine magic is the only magic that requires such a device to be able to use. Elder and Anima magic only requires the natural magical abilities and the knowledge and training to use it properly. In the old days, such mages are usually seen carrying around magical tomes. Nowadays, however, most mages have a device inserted into the base of the skull that allows the user to easily download the necessary information directly to the brain and allows for quick access to said information. Divine mages don't have the same luxury due to the fact such magic is not completely derived from the body and needs the assistance of the crystals to properly use it. Given enough time, the body can eventually acclimate to each individual use of the magic, as when Maribelle was able to scan Lissa for injuries without the use of a staff. Of course, since each staff uses the magic somewhat differently, each piece of individual magic one by one, much like how each muscle in the body deals with different parts of the body and have to be exercised individually.

interesting enough, this unusual discrepancy only applies to Sidhe. There are another group of magic users of such rarity that they could probably counted on one hand who are known as the Blessed: individuals (usually humans for whatever reason, but can be theoretically of any species) who can use magic due to the blood of Naga and/or Grima running through their veins. Such individuals are able to use magic at a level that even the Sidhe are unable to reach. For the Blessed, the healing staffs are completely worthless, being able to naturally channel their abilities as if they had been doing it their entire lives. What the Blessed lack (especially in the earlier years) are control, and any Blessed learning magic are usually put in a secluded area in fear of destroying entire cities by accident. To his knowledge, their are only a handful of Blessed in the world, the vast majority being the members of the Ylissean royalty or the leaders of the Grimleal.

Placing the Recover staff on her left hand, Maribelle murmured a chant before it literally melted into her hand, which glowed violet for a brief moment afterwards. Before she closed the drawer, Luke something else caught his eye: a pistol. Or, to be more specific, a plasma pistol.

Little over half a century ago, the first plasma rifle was created. It was, of course, notoriously inefficient, prone to running out of power at the inopportune time, a ridiculous charge time, requiring the user to wear a bulky battery pack, and even had a 1% chance of exploding per shot. All these issues were (mostly) overlooked due to the power of the weapon, which was able to rip through walls and armor alike with little difficulty. Over the years, the issues with the original design were ironed out: cool down systems were put in place to prevent overloads, the power systems became more streamlined, the charge time was reduced drastically (though still incredible slow by comparison to projectile guns), and power regulation was made constant. Within a decade of creation, plasma rifles dominated the battlefields, with projectile weapons used mostly for suppression fire, the faster rate of fire making it more difficult for plasma rifle users to line up their own shots, and with explosive weaponry (such as grenade launchers) becoming nearly obsolete due to the ability to shot explosives out of the air.

As one can imagine, such dominance wouldn't last forever, as three decades after the first plasma rifles were created, the first energy shields were developed, and soon the dominance of plasma weapons begin to wane due to their relative inefficiency when it comes to taking down the shields, with explosive objects doing more damage to the shields (ironically, the impact of the explosive item does more damage than the actual explosion does, though the concussive blast still killed most users of the earlier shields until they ironed out that issue in later models), and projectiles being the most efficient, requiring more energy to reflect the projectile objects than it would to absorb the plasma shots. The most efficient, though, was melee combat, whether through hand to hand or with melee weapons, as the greater inertia created a larger strain on the shields than even projectile weapons. five decades after the creation of the plasma rifle, melee combat had a resurgence in actual combat.

Of course, as the plasma rifle developed, the creators found more efficient means to power their devices. Nowadays, most energy packs are now the size of a normal rifle clip of projectile ammo. As such, to see a plasma pistol is still quite rare,even today. While the technology to create a battery pack small enough to power a pistol do exist, they have only been on the market for about a year, and are extremely expensive. So expensive, in fact, that most modern day armies (including the Ylissean army) still use projectile pistols as backup weapons. The fact that she has a plasma pistol cements how rich and well connected her family would have to be.

Noticing his staring, Maribelle glanced down at her gun before saying, "Ah, yes, I almost forgot I had it there. My father insisted that I have such a gun to better protect myself in case of an emergency." She closed the drawer, before walking towards him. "My father can be a bit overprotective at times, I must admit."

"I assume you know how to use it," Luke said.

"Of course," she replied, "My father insisted that I use it a couple of times on the practice field." She then grimaced. "He also insisted on blaring music so atrocious Naga herself must have been weeping for the pain to end. Better to simulate the stresses of using a weapon in combat, he said." She stopped in front of him. "Personally speaking, I think he was being a bit paranoid."

In Luke's mind, her father seems less paranoid and more sensible. After all, seeing as she is on a battleship, it might be prudent to assume she is going to end up in a battle. Probably shouldn't mention that outloud.

"Yes, because everyone knows it is paranoid to assume that no one is going to target a high ranked medical officers during any boarding actions. I must be mad to think that there are tactics to take out Divine mages first."

Probably being the key word.

"Oh hush, Ruffian, you're dripping so much sarcasm it's ruining my floors," she said, raising the hand that she placed the Recover staff in, "And hold still, if you can."

Her hand glowed violet, and he felt the aura of the device. While it was not unpleasant, it is still a bit off putting. While the effects of most other staffs is quite soothing, the Recover staff has a rather unsettling probing feel to it. Obviously, this makes sense, seeing as the other staffs are made to heal while this one is made for advanced diagnosis, but that doesn't make the feeling any less off putting, no matter how many times he has been probed over the years (and oh, has he been probed).

Raising her hand to his forehead, she paused before nodding to herself, as if she discovered something. Which she probably did.

"As I suspected," she said, the violet glow disappearing as she lowered her hand, "While he has a minor - very minor - concussion, it is not nearly bad enough where it would have any noticeable side effects."

Lissa frowned. "Than why did he show the symptoms of mental confusion?"

"That is a good question, darling." She peered at him. "Assuming he is not always like that."

"Naga, I hope so." said Kellam

"Tell me, Ruffian," said Maribelle, ignoring Kellam (or perhaps not noticing his grumbling), "You wouldn't be suffering from any recent memory loss, would you? events that happened within a few hours from now?"

"Now that you bring it up, I'm having a hard time remembering how my ship was so badly damaged." Luke smirked. "Pity I can't choose where my amnesia can go. I would love to get a chance to meet you again for the first time."

"Ah, now that explains it," Maribelle said, now ignoring Luke.

"What does it explain?"

"Seeing as he hasn't suffered a sever enough blow to the head to explain his memory loss," began Maribelle, "That can be quickly ruled out as the cause for it. There is only one other thing that could cause such symptoms: a powerful dark spell." Maribelle frowned. "Of course, the amount of power needed to cause such side effects are quite large. Elder magic induced memory loss in quite rare seeing as the amount of power needed to cause something like that would more likely kill a person." She glanced towards him, suspicion filling her eyes. "The fact that you survived with minimal injuries and minimal memory loss suggests someone with borderline impossible resistance to magic."

Luke shrugged. "What can I say, I eat my green vegetables every day."

"Clearly," said Maribelle, obviously not believing him.

"Brings up the question," spoke up Kellam, "of why an Elder mage would want you dead."

"Who says that any Elder mages want me dead?" said Luke.

"A rather convoluted and ineffective way of erasing someone's memories," Kellam replied, before adding, "So who wants you dead?"

Tilting his head in mock thought, Luke finally said, "Nope, don't remember." Not exactly a lie: he can't remember who this particular person that wants him dead is. If he were to just answer the question out of context, his answer would take all day… and all of the next.

"So, does this mean he can be given a clean bill of health?" asked Lissa.

"As much as I wish being excessively annoying were a disease, I am reluctant to say that he is fine," said Maribelle.

He had to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at that: she does realize that if being annoying were a disease, he would be stuck in her infirmary, doesn't she? Heh, looks like she may like him more than even she is willing to admit.

"It doesn't matter," Kellam said, "until ordered otherwise, he can't leave the infirmary." He then blinked, muttering to himself, "well, that was perfect timing," before raising his hand to his left ear, and said, "yes?"

After a few moments of silence, Kellam glanced over to Luke, and said, "And the prisoner?"

Huh, guess they were planning on putting me behind bars, Luke thought as Kellam frowned at the next piece of news.

"As you command. I'll be there in five minutes, Captain," Kellam said before lowering his hand from his ear. Glancing over to Maribelle, he added, "The pirate attack is worse than they thought. The captain needs me to assist repelling the pirates."

Tilting her head in bemusement, she replied, "as interesting as that might be, darling, is there any reason why you are informing me of this?"

"There might be civilian casualties," Kellam replied, waiting for someone to pick up the implications.

Lissa did first. "And if there is, we should probably prepare to help the wounded." She glanced over to Maribelle. "Do you think we should awaken the rest of the medical staff?"

Frowning in thought, Maribelle eventually replied, "I believe that might be best." She then glanced over to Luke. "And the Ruffian? I assume he is unable to leave my abode?"

"No," Kellam replied, glancing over to Luke with his frown returning, "he is free to leave and explore the ship. Captain's orders."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "How nice of him." Not to mention suicidally optimistic, insanely idiotic, amazingly easy to manipulate, and in this particular case the right move because he doesn't plan on doing anything to the detriment of this crew (well, not intentionally, anyways). Still, if he succeeds in finding a way to become a permanent member of this ship, it might be best to inform him that it might not be the best policy to welcome anyone who boards the ship with open arms and some flowers.

After eying him for a few moments, Kellam finally replied, "If the Captain trusts you, as will I." He makes to walk past him, but stops when he is standing right next to Luke and adds, "Don't misuse it."

"I'll tell you what," said Luke, "if I do, you have my permission to give me a real reason to be in this room."

"If that happens," said Kellam, beginning to leave, "You're getting a concussion."

"Out of curiousity," said Luke, stopping Kellam in his tracks, "Which station is under attack?"

Glancing behind his shoulders, Kellam said, "South Town." He then walked out of their line of sight.

"I hope Chrom will be all right," said Lissa, biting her lower lip.

"I'm sure everything will be alright, darling," said Maribelle, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"But if it is as bad as Kellam implied…"

"I doubt it is. Captain Chrom probably doesn't want to wake up the rest of the security force for something so routine."

"But to leave someone to wander the ship by himself. I mean, he seems… somewhat nice, but still…" They glance over to Luke… who is currently lost in thought and has completely forgotten about everyone around him.

Maribelle gives her a look of her own. "...Okay, that might have been a good choice on his part." said Lissa

"Probably." As if in answer, Luke finally returns, facing towards where Kellam left and asks (making them both jump at the suddenness), "Where's the prince?"

Shooting glances at each other, Maribelle decided to answer. "I assume you mean the Captain?"

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a hand in front of his face as if clearing the air of smoke, "Prince, Captain, Chrom, whatever, just tell me where he is."

Maribelle's left eye twitched, but before she could rail on him, Lissa quickly covered her mouth (no mean feat considering how much shorter she is) and answered for her. "He's probably boarding his own personal fighter right now. Chrom always leads from the front."

"So who is currently in command?" Luke asked, ignoring the daggers Maribelle is throwing at him as she tried in vain to remove Lissa's hands from her mouth.

"Probably Virion," said Lissa, giving Maribelle a winning smile when she turned her glare towards Lissa, "He usually acts as tactician during minor skirmishes like these."

"And where is this Virion," said Luke as Lissa finally let go of Maribelle's mouth and returned Maribelle's glare with one of her own. However, instead of answering, the two locked into a staring contest. After a few moments to give them a chance to speak, Luke glanced over, and upon noticing that the two women are in the middle of a staring contest, loudly cleared his throat.

"Virion?" he impatiently said upon regaining their attention.

"He's probably in the tactical room, which is on the command deck; why?" said Lissa.

"Where's the command deck? I need to speak to him."

"And why should we divulge that piece of information to you?" said Maribelle somewhat irritably.

"Because I have reason to believe that this pirate attack is being sponsored by the Plegian government."

Review, please, for the love of god!