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Muarim: Little one! How... How was it? Were you treated roughly? Did they attempt to punish you?
Tormod: No, it was nothing. And the apostle? I thought she'd be some mean old hag, but she's just a kid. Really, she's even shorter than I am.
Muarim: Li-little one! You must lower your voice. And watch your tongue!
Tormod: What? Why?
Ike: Rest easy, Muarim. Everyone in this room is with me. The apostle has no ears here.
Muarim: That is good.
Ike: Speaking ill of the apostle here is considered treasonous. Keep it up, and they'll kill you--or threaten to.
Muarim: Little one... While we are here, please choose your words with more care than you have shown. I beg of you.
Tormod: Oh, right. Right. I understand.
Ike: For a laguz, you seem to know more about the court etiquette here than my fellow beorc, Tormod.
Tormod: That's 'cause...'cause I don't know much about any of this stuff. That's all!
Muarim: It is no matter, little one. Ike, the reason I am familiar with the customs of the Begnion nobles is... I myself was once a slave.
Tormod: Oh, no...
Muarim: For generations, my family...served as slaves to one house. They were wealthy and powerful, senators all. As a child, I was raised never to question my station as a slave. From the day that I was born, the most grueling physical labor was as natural as breathing. I knew nothing else. To ensure we were liked by our masters, we were drilled in the etiquette of polite society until it became second nature. We were slaves... We did what we could to live as long as we could. The most important thing was not to incur the wrath of our masters. If we displeased them, we were punished. If we were lucky, we were beaten. If we were unlucky...
Tormod: Muarim! That's enough!
Muarim: I am sorry. Lord Ike... If a former slave like myself is present, all of you will be judged, scorned, and looked down upon. I came here...to ask if you would... take care of something for me. I would have you take care of the little one.
Tormod: Why would you say such a thing? You were born a laguz slave... And you're not allowed to be free... That's not right! That's why we promised each other we'd change all of that. We made a promise! Laguz, like beorc, would build homes and plant fields! Families would live together in peace and freedom! That's the world we dreamed of...
Muarim: That's a dream that belongs to us as former laguz slaves. We don't need the help of another beorc like you.
Tormod: What? ...sniff!
Muarim: Little one! ...
Ike: ...Does it really warrant that much concern?
Ike: Since I first arrived here in Begnion, it's something that's been bothering me. If you're born into a noble house, you're a noble. If your parents are slaves, you're a slave. Do you think a person's worth is decided at the moment of their birth? That's... I can't understand a country where that passes for normal, I just can't.
Muarim: Those don't sound like the words of someone working for Princess Crimea. Princesses are princesses because they're born into royal families, right? Are you going to deny that?
Ike: No, you're right. Elincia... She is a princess. I don't think we've treated her with more respect than any other employer we've had, but... Heh. Funny. We've addressed her as "Princess" the entire time, but I've never really considered what it meant.
Muarim: From where I stand, I think you've been blessed. You were born a beorc and raised in a country with a lenient social structure. That's an enviable life.
Ike: It's so hard... I... No matter how I try, I'll never fully understand your pain. But listen, I didn't treat Elincia any differently after I learned of her heritage. I'm not going to think of you or treat you differently just because you used to be a slave. It's not going to happen. You're...you. And I'm free to think of it that way if I want, right?
Ike: Muarim, there's nothing anyone can do about your past. About the burdens you carry. And I know I don't know everything that's going on, but you shouldn't be trying to push Tormod away. He's dedicated to you, and being with you is his choice. It's part of his freedom.
Muarim: ...I see now. I will go...and find him.
Ike: If meeting those in the temple is uncomfortable, I can go and bring him back. What do you think?
Muarim: No, I can do it. I have a good nose. Tracking the young one's scent while avoiding other beorc is an easy task.
Ike: I see.
Muarim: Ike... I want... I mean... Never mind. May our friendship be true and enduring.
Ike: I share your sentiment. Our troop will have you for as long as you wish.
Ike: What the...? Um...who are you? How long have you been a member of my troop?
Stefan: I joined after the battle in the sands. My name is Stefan. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.
Ike: Why are you here?
Stefan: In part it's because I'm curious. But mostly, it's the guiding hand of fate that has led me to you.
Stefan: In the desert, I watched the dance of your sword. You have a unique style, but it is incomplete, filled with hesitation. You have recently lost your teacher, no?
Stefan: Luckily, your foundation is quite strong. Which is why I can be of service. Your technique... How powerful will it be when perfected? I would like to know.
Ike: Wh-who are you?
Stefan: You can learn the dance of blades from me without knowing my history, can you not? What say you? Let your heart decide.
Ike: I understand. If you can help me perfect my technique, I will gladly accept an invitation to learn from you.
Stefan: Then prepare yourself. Come! Attack me with all your strength.