Fleetmaster Thierr'ee was in his war room, sat around a table with the various shipmasters in his fleet. The number totalled approximately fourteen, the number of Covenant ships of signification within the [i]Fleet of Ambrosial Felicity.[/i] He felt out of place amongst them all. Not too long ago he would have taken orders from them. And now he was supposed to be leading them. And they all knew it. "Thierr'ee," the shipmaster of the [i]Parade of Asperity[/i] began, a condescending lilt in his voice. "Our Huragok were unable to extract much information from the wrecks that are the human information caches upon Eridanus II and in its orbit." "Cole devised the protocol," Zharn mused. "It makes sense that he would be adept at carrying it out." At that the [i]Partisan of Immaculacy[/i]'s shipmaster sniffed haughtily, clearing his throat unpleasantly. "When you are done praising the humans, Thierr'ee," he smirked with disdain. "We must devise a plan as to where to take this fleet next." There was a small chorus of laughter around the table at the shipmaster's snide comment, and Zharn forced himself to smile amiably. "Of course, shipmaster," he agreed in a pleasant tone of voice. "I see there are mentions of a supply route the humans utilised; Eridanus II was one of the vectors in this run. Perhaps if we were to scout the breadth of the route, some clue as to the location of a human colony--" "That will never do, Thierr'ee," a shipmaster on the far side of the table who Zharn could not quite place interrupted rudely. "Even if the humans have not already scrambled that supply route, were we to find a clue at best it would lead to a small farming settlement. Most likely it would simply take us to a small congregation of trading ships. Hardly a fitting task for the [i]Fleet of Ambrosial Felicity.[/i]" "Hear hear," another shipmaster agreed, and his words were echoed across the table. Zharn found his patience growing short. "Then what do you suggest?" he demanded bluntly. "Obviously a seasoned veteran such as yourself must have some inkling as to what to do next." "But fleetmaster," the other Sangheili uttered with mock indignation. "I could not in good conscience think to tell one such as you what to do." "Then why are you here?" Zharn asked angrily, his voice a harsh whisper as he gripped the edge of the table tightly. Another tittering of laughter. "To follow you, of course," the shipmaster replied with pretend servitude. Zharn looked at all of them with distaste. They stared at him back, each one eager for him to fall so one of them could take his place. Finally, Zharn broke his gaze and stood away from the table. "I shall look over the intelligence we have once more," he told them all shortly, gathering up the holodrones from the centre of the table which were displaying the information they held. "For now we shall maintain the perimeter on Eridanus II until I decide where next to take the fleet." With that, he turned to leave the room. "What more can you expect from an ultra?" he heard one voice speak loud enough for him to hear, and then heard the others laugh with him. [i]Enough is enough,[/i] Zharn thought with rage, drawing out a knife from his belt and spinning around, throwing the small blade towards the one who had spoken. It embedded itself in the wall a few inches above the shipmaster of the [i]Deluge of Diffidence[/i]. The Sangheili shrieked with terror as Zharn marched back to the table and pounded his fist upon it angrily. "Listen closely, all of you. I care not for your slanderous words or disrespectful looks, Like it or not, I am your fleetmaster, and you [i]will[/i] treat me as such. Any who have issue with that can challenge me. Let it be known, however, that you shall meet the same fate as my predecessor if you do," Zharn swore, looking them all in the eyes as if daring one to make the challenge. They all shrank away from his glare, finding something else to look at. Zharn laughed sharply with derision, before turning away and moving towards the exit of the war room. No more words were spoken behind his back. * * * "It is good to see you again," Convalescence greeted his old friend warmly. "You too," Restraint smiled, looking up at the minister with surprise. "You're still walking." "For now," Convalescence wheezed. "The years are taking their toll on me, though. Gone are the days when I would run across the battlefield and treat wounded warriors." "Well, you're looking a lot better than myself," Restraint told Convalescence, coughing a little. The minister nodded. "You have cancer," he observed, nothing how pale the High Councillor looked and how little body weight he had. "You're familiar with it then," Restraint remarked, staring out at the sunset over High Charity. The two stood on a balcony in the religious district, a wall of honour guards behind them. As the sun descended it cast its brilliance upon the dreadnought, which gleaned with vibrance. "How far along--" Convalescence began, interrupted by a wave of Restraint's frail, bony hand. "It's too far along now to be treated," he wheezed, huddling further into his blanket. "A few months left, perhaps. Maybe not even that." "Oh, gods," Convalescence uttered with horror. "I'm so sorry." "Don't be," Restraint assured softly. "But it's my fault," Convalescence protested, his head thrown into his hands. "I did not care for Obligation or Tolerance properly, and now they are dead. And soon you too." "Obligation and Tolerance didn't die of illness, my old friend," Restraint told the minister quietly, looking around to make sure they weren't being listened upon. Convalescence frowned with confusion. "W-what do you mean?" he asked, his face the very picture of perfection. "Of course they did. Believe me, my friend. My loss of so much stature was not for no reason." "They were murdered, Convalescence," Restraint told the other San 'Shyuum simply. Convalescence gasped, leaning back against the balcony as his mouth formed a perfect circle, lines crossing his face as he struggled with this revelation. Finally, he found his voice. "By whom?" Restraint sighed, looking one more time at the setting sun. At long last, he looked Convalescence in the eyes with pure sincerity. "My friend, do you remember the Sangheili you told me about many months ago? The one your assistant had fallen in love with?" Restraint asked with a small smile. Convalescence lapsed into some depression then, shoulders falling sadly. "Of course; Sorran. You know he is dead?" Restraint hesitated, thinking over his next words carefully. "Remember how you told me about his virtues? How he was loyal, brave, intelligent, and not blinded by honour and religion as so many Sangheili are? I think you were just proudly speaking of the man your dear Savara had found at the time." "He was all those things," Convalescence recalled with a sad, tender smile. "But why do you speak of him now? What of Obligation and Tolerance's murder?" Realising that before him was one of the few people in the worlds he could trust, Restraint knew what he had to do. "My friend, what I am about to tell you may shock you. You may not believe me. And I apologise for having to shoulder you with this heavy burden. But I think I too shall soon follow my fellow once-hierarchs into the abyss, and you are one of the few people I can trust to protect our future." "Go on," Convalescence urged, wondering deep down if he really wanted to know what the minister was about to tell him. "It all began many cycles ago, before this sad Ninth Age of Reclamation." * * *