"Come in, come in," he held the door open and stepped aside as she entered the hall. "Sit, make yourself at home, and I will be right back with dessert." The door closed with a heavy sigh as she made her way to the parlour and sat. Lord Arahim returned a few moments later with a sizzling pan. "Carmelized pears," he announced pouring them onto the platter, "help yourself, though I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you can do." Magdalena felt her cheeks color. "You pay me too high a compliment m'lord," she said and quickly changed the subject. "You were going to tell me about your armour and the reason it is all white." "Right to it, eh? I was hoping you'd forget about that. It's silly, really." "Tell me," she said, tasting a pear. It was soft on her tongue, with a texture like sugary sand that melted away. She closed her eyes savoring every bite. "Well, what did you dream about as a young girl, what did you dream you'd become?" She thought a moment, "A princess. Or a warrior. Perhaps a princess warrior, and you?" "Ah, see! I was no different." "Really?" She tilted her head, "You wanted to be a princess too?" He nearly choked on the fruit. "No, no." He chuckled. "I wanted to be the knight in the stories. Shining armor, fighting for Virtue, a paladin. Hence, the white armor – it is silly." "Nay, not at all." There was a small silence and he turned to her, "How does a chef joust?" He chewed and waited for the answer. With a horse and lance like you? she thought. "I'm a bit of an...unconventional chef. I am a swordmistress too. My queen had unusual tastes and so I adapted." Arahim watched her. "And do you like defying convention?" he finally asked. Magdalena though about that and replied, "I am what I am m'lord, no more and no less."