"This is a sizeable tale, and not a happy one either. It was twenty four cycles ago, on Sangheilios. My father, Forerunners bless his soul, had just returned from a holy mission the fleet he had been assigned to was on," Zharn's eyes clouded then with sorrow. "It did not go well. The fleetmaster had died in the battle, leaving my father to take up to mantle and command the fleet despite being only shipmaster. Yet not only did he emerge from the battle, but he did so with more than two-thirds of the fleet still intact. But for the Covenant, none of that mattered..." == ** == [i]24 YEARS AGO. Placid Enrichment.[/i] They were lined across the curved walls of the Council chambers lobby like wallpaper, their staves held with a vertical precision that made them seem robotic. Their eyes were seemingly unblinking as they stared straight ahead, paying no attention to the people being escorted past them. Zharn knew the Honour Guards were a show of force by the minor Hierarchs of [i]Placid Enrichment[/i]. To show his father that even though he was a hero amongst the Sangheili, he was still far smaller than the Covenant as a whole. Even so, Zharn could not help but feel pride as he watched his father walk with purpose, each stride carrying with it a sense of both honour and humility. The tassels latched to his belt caught the light. Each one was effectively a medal awarded for a significant deed. Shipmaster Zyn Thierr'ee, Zharn's father and head of the once-noble house Thierr, boasted more of these tassels than anyone else in the building, and most likely on the entirety of the station save for Fleetmaster Xytan'ee. Finally, they reached the huge doors which would open into the council chambers. A sense of trepidation swept over Zharn as he beheld their intricacy; forged thousands of years ago in the ancient furnaces of Sangheilios, inlaid with gold and encrusted with every gem imaginable. "The council is gathered," one of the lights of Helios escorting them spoke gruffly to Zyn. "Mostly San 'Shyuum, lamentably." "As is always the way when the hierarchs wish events to go in their favour," Zyn spoke softly with a detached cynical air, adjusting a few straps on his ornate armour. The other light of Helios nodded in agreement, sighing. "Whatever happens in there today, noble shipmaster, remember that no true Sangheili heeds these cries of heresy those old fools decry. You are a hero," he told Zharn's father sincerely, crossing him arms across his chest in a respect usually saved only for Imperial Admirals. "What is a hero, but a scapegoat for all that transpired? And the people love little more than the downfall of one," Zyn remarked sadly, before nodding. "Zharn." Zharn looked up nervously, uncomfortable in his new armour. It still did not feel quite right. "Yes, sir?" he saluted. Zyn smiled, and took his shoulders affectionately. "You have become a fine young man," the shipmaster congratulated him. "Yet you place too much value in honour and rules; these things are important but you must not let them blind you. Always look after your own, no matter what... there is a high chance that I may not come out of those chambers, son." "Father--" Zharn began, but was cut off gently by a raised finger. "I am loathe to leave you alone in this world. Your mother is dead, and I regret we never had any more children. I had hoped Ahkrin would be able to watch over you when I was gone... but he has made his choice and I still love him as a son despite it. As you ascend through the ranks the Covenant will shower praise and rewards upon you. But do not forget that they would slit your throat in an instant if they believed it would further their cause." "I will always sleep with one eye open," Zharn promised, staring up at that Sangheili who had been like a god to him his entire live. To see him like this, deprived of sleep and facing mortality... it made him all the more aware that the only constant in life was one's self. "I love you, my son. And remember that whatever I did, I did so for our own. Never lose sight of that; no religious artefacts or beliefs are more important than the blood of the Sangheili," he lectured one final time, before turning to the light of Helios on the right. "Let us get this fallacy over with." The doors swung open, and Zyn Thierr'ee stepped into the blinding white light and noise spilling out from the council chambers along with one of the lights of Helios. Then just as suddenly, the doors closed behind them and left darkness and silence. "Come," the remaining light told Zharn sympathetically. "I will take you to the spectator's area, if you still wish to watch." Zharn thought long and hard for a few moments, before nodding slowly. "I do." * * * "... and for the destruction of the Forerunner shield world that would have lead us to the sacred rings, even if that destruction was to save the warriors under your command, the council has decreed that you be sentenced to death, unless--" "I decline the burden of Arbiter," Zyn Thierr'ee spoke loud and clearly. "I will [i]not[/i] be condemned to a life of heretical repentance when I have committed no heresy. You know as well as I, High Prosecutor Fortitude, that if I had not made the decision to destroy the installation then the holy warriors would have destroyed all five-hundred thousand in my fleet." Prosecutor Fortitude seemed to be disappointed for a few moments, before nodding solemnly. "That is your choice to make, Thierr'ee. A shame, you would have made a great Arbiter," he said sadly, before motioning at the masked man standing next to the disgraced shipmaster. Execute him." The entire chamber fell silent then. The executioner standing next to Thierr'ee, a Sangheili himself, drew out his blade reluctantly, and stared at it for a few moments. Zharn's father had knelt down on his knees, and did not cower. His eyes searched around the room, and found the unbelieving, moist eyes of his son. He nodded, once. A smile crossed his lips. Then the executioner put the blade gently on Thierr'ee's throat, screwed his own eyes tight shut and grimaced before bringing the sharp blade across. Blood came out clean from the gash, and stained the floor of the chambers. Thierr'ee's dead eyes stared for another second at Zharn, before the corpse collapsed onto the floor and remained still. "... this tribulation is adjourned," the prosecutor concluded in a rasping voice. As one, the San 'Shyuum councillors rose and left the room. The Sangheili councillors continued to stare sadly at the hero who now lay in a pool of his own blood. But Zharn noticed none of this. His eyes had long since ceased to see, and his ears were no longer deciphering tangible sound. Only one thought played through his mind with terrible clarity. [i]My father is dead.[/i] * * * Zharn stumbled along the streets of [i]Placid Enrichment[/i] drunkenly, an almost empty bottle in his hand. Transport Ghosts, Revenants and other vehicles would divert as he stumbled into the grav-strip and yell curses at him as they sped on their way. He didn't care. They could hit him for all he cared. All those years of devotion, loyalty, heroism and honour... taken by bureaucracy and religious lunacy. More of the foul brown drink tumbled down his constricted throat. His face felt numb, but he could still feel the tears streaming down his cheeks like water flowing from atop dilapidated rocks. The bottle, empty, was thrown upon the ground. A nearby Huragok picked it up and began twirling the glass about its inquisitive limbs. Zharn brought another bottle out, and brought it to his lips. And then suddenly a hand reached out, grabbed it and threw it down on the floor. "That one's poison," a voice he had not had for four years spoke from behind him. Zharn stopped in his tracks, wondering if his inebriation had brought about hallucinations. He spun around. The street behind him was empty save for the Huragok still tinkering with the bottle. He blinked twice, and turned around. And found himself facing Ahkrin, holding a plasma pistol inches away from his forehead.