The good news is that Saren just got a new phone. =D With MS Word on it. Which means that she can now write wherever she goes! =DDD Without having to unearth pens from the depths of her bag, and only finding cookie crumbs, I mean.

The bad news is that she's having a few teething problems at the moment, and the computer has taken a disliking to aforementioned new phone. So, even though it ought to just transfer the document...it isn't doing. So I have to retype it. Blergh.

I rather enjoyed writing this chapter, it has to be said. You'll notice my pathetic attempts at humour resurfacing here. I'm afraid you'll have to forgive me. I was tired of writing serious scenes all the time. And I'm pretty sure Soren's glad that he doesn't become bedridden through injury yet again.

I know this is really short, but I'm ill and I was bedridden for most of today. I hope you'll forgive me.

Soren would dock the pay of the scriptwriters of FE8 if he could. XD

Sigrun stood before them, resplendent in ceremonial armour. Soren guessed it to be such as it was unnecessarily ornate, and from what he had seen, the commander of Begnion's pegasus knights was not the sort of woman to ordinarily prize fashion above survival. She greeted them with a demure smile. "The apostle is waiting for you." She gestured for them to enter the building ahead of her.

Ike looked at Soren in confusion. "Aren't we meant to be meeting the empress?"

Soren tried not to act too much like a nursery school teacher correcting a small child. Yet the parallels still struck him. Repeatedly. "They're one and the same, Ike. Begnion is a theocracy...like Rausten." He hoped that citing a well-known example might help get his point across. "The ruler is supposedly appointed by the goddess herself."

Understanding dawned on Ike's face. "So you used to read fairytales too, huh?" he asked, grinning.

Soren frowned at him, an irritating pink tinge appearing on his cheeks. "That's hardly the issue at hand. But yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I devoured his entire library, however unsavoury. There was little else to do. I believe we've already discussed this."

Ike's grin did not falter in the slightest. "You're telling me you didn't enjoy reading about the beautiful Princess L'Arachel and her justice-driven deeds?"

Something in Ike's voice as he said this (quite possibly the mock-heroism) was beginning to annoy Soren. He exhaled sharply. "Frankly, it was utter drivel," he replied. "Though I will give her some credit for not being as useless as the average royal."

Ike looked appalled. "But...L'Arachel was hot." Seeing Soren entirely unmoved by this sentiment, Ike reached a logical conclusion (by his standards, anyway). "Oh, I get it. You prefer redheads, right? Or brunettes?" He grinned.

"No." Soren's tone of voice was deadly. "Unlike you, I really couldn't care less about the supposed beauty of imaginary characters."

This silenced Ike momentarily. "So...there's someone real you have your eye on, huh? I always figured you'd fall for a character in a book, seeing as you're always buried in them."

Soren floundered for a moment. "That...is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Ike laughed. "Aww, Soren's getting all flustered."

"I am not getting flustered!" Even as he said it, Soren realised the truth of the matter. "Look, I... Can we just drop this?"

"Sure. But I'll find out sooner or later." Despite Ike's light-hearted tone, something about this sounded very threatening. "Anyway, we have an empress to meet. Or an apostle. Or whatever else she wants to call herself."

Soren's palm reached for his face, but stopped short. He was growing to realise (and he was being remarkably slow about the matter, considering his usual aptitude for observance) that this was just the way that Ike was - and that it would probably take several laguz lifespans to teach him even the basics of courtesy. Soren sighed. It would be, he mused, too much to ask for their meeting with the apostle to go smoothly.