The honour guard considered Ahkrin's story for a few moments, before placing a foot on Pel's body and rolling him over. His chest rose and fell harshly. After a few moments, those ancient eyes widened. "That's no soldier, it's an Ossoona... someone I know. Where is Restraint?" Ahkrin thought back to that frail body of the man who had once commanded a galactic empire. The thought brought some convincing sadness into his expression. "The San 'Shyuum was High Councillor Restraint? Gods above," Ahkrin muttered with feigned-shock. "I saw him in the lounge, sir. He's dead. Why would an Ossoona want the High Councillor dead?" He saw the clouds glazing the honour guard's eyes let rain down, the tears trailing their way down almost-carved paths, as if many had fallen in the past. "Show me him," the honour guard commanded, voice trembling with emotion. Ahkrin felt a little sad for the guard as he nodded and turned away, keeping his hand near the sword hidden behind his cloak. [i]What now?[/i] he wondered, calculating. [i]Pel just tried to kill me... on the order of the hierarchs? No, surely not; they wouldn't dare. But even so...[/i] He glanced back at the honour guard, who had drawn out his blade. Ahkrin noticed he kept a sizable distance between them, and wondered with some worry if the guard suspected something. No, it was probably nothing. [i]The hierarchs told me there are two honour guards who partake of Restraint's heresy. This must be one of them. Perhaps he will lead me to the other.[/i] Ten minutes ago he had every intention to kill them both with no questions asked. But now, in light of Pel's betrayal and what he had read on Restraint's network... He needed answers. Might as well start with the most basic. "What's your name?" he asked the elderly guard softly. "... Hem," was the answer he received. No house name given, strangely. Something Ahkrin seldom did himself. Perhaps Hem too was ashamed or saddened by his house, for whatever reason. "Well met, Hem." "Well met, Ahkrin," Hem replied coldly. For a few moments, Ahkrin said nothing, only feeling that something was wrong. Then he realised what the problem was. Hem had addressed him by his real name. Ahkrin desperately reached for his knife. * They were an imposing sight, it had to be said. Three of the most powerful people in the galaxy, sitting in their thrones which resisted the pull of the earth. Each adopted an expression that conveyed well they were better than you, and fully aware of it. Long, curled fingers that could summon your death in an instant. "Noble hierarchs," Zharn ground out, sinking to one knee before the 'blessed' trio. Truth stared down at him for a few moments, before nodding at Mercy. Even in his chair, movement seemed almost painful for the most elderly hierarch. But Zharn knew that behind the aged skin, sagged eyes and shocking-white hair sat one of the greatest philosophical minds to grace the Covenant. "Rise," Mercy croaked out in an attempt at grandeur, and Zharn obeyed. He looked over Mercy's shoulder and saw Truth busying himself in the study of a datapad, seemingly trying to avoid his gaze. He knew exactly who Zharn was, then. "We know you hold no love for Truth," Mercy spoke then surprisingly. Zharn's eyes snapped back to Mercy, wondering if he was in trouble. A sad smile seemed to touch the elderly Prophet's lips. "Know that he feels regret at the death of your father. It was a necessary evil; the council was in uproar at the loss of the shield world--" "I know why my father died," Zharn interrupted with thinly veiled disdain. "It was twenty-four cycles ago. I have come to terms with what happened." "My brother Truth [i]did[/i] offer Zyn Thierr'ee the role of Arbiter," the arrogant tones of Regret slid in from the right; Zharn coldly turned to look at the 'warrior,' who was slowly carving a red apple with a small blade. "If he'd taken it, perhaps he would still be alive today." "To become Arbiter is to become Death itself," Zharn quoted from an old poem. "To become Arbiter," Regret argued back with anger, "is a great privilege, and one that you will not sully in [i]my[/i] presence--" "Enough," Truth finally spoke, silencing Regret with a deadly glance. "We did not come here to speak of the past. There is enough hardship in our present without visiting echoes of old. Like me or not, fleetmaster, you are an officer in our Covenant and therefore you will be speaking with me many times after this." "Fine," Zharn reluctantly accepted. "As I said before being spoken down to by Regret, I have long since put my father to rest. It is a new world we live in, now." "Indeed," Mercy agreed heartily, slapping the side of his chair to accentuate his words. "That is why we have summoned you here, Thierr'ee. You have no doubt seen the current lock-down on High Charity?" "I saw its existence on my way here," Zharn affirmed. "The constabulary are out in force." "We've told the public and much of the army it's due to a viral outbreak," Truth spoke in that smooth, honey-like voice of his. "That is a lie." "It seems our holy city has been infiltrated... by humans," Regret filled in. Zharn's blood lost much of its warmth. "We know not for sure, but can only surmise they stowed aboard one of our ships. A demon is among those who arrived." "Gods," Zharn uttered with shock. Humans had discovered High Charity? This was a catastrophe, if they were to transmit data on the city to the rest of their kind... "Where are they?" he demanded. "I will take my best men at once and stop them. I have killed a demon before, and I will do it again." "Admirable, fleetmaster," Truth replied. "But unnecessary. We are taking care of the matter." "Taking... care of the matter?" Zharn repeated dully. Truth spoke about the incident as if it were of no consequence. "Hierarchs, if they are able to escape with information on the station... gods, what if one of their Associated Intelligences bypass our defences? What if they transmit the co-ordinates of blessed Sanghelios?" "As I said, fleetmaster, we are taking care of the matter," Truth echoed firmly. "Yours is the only fleet orbiting High Charity at this moment; your job is to make sure not a single ship leaves this station, no matter who they claim to be. Can you do that?" "Well, yes--" Zharn flustered, confused. "But are you sure I cannot have some of my troops assist in the destruction of these humans?" "It is not a coordinated assault," Mercy assured Zharn softly. "They did not expect to find our capital city -- there are but a few of them, and we are taking every precaution. All you have to do is shoot down anything that tries to leave the station." "Even with proper IFF authorisation?" "Even then," Mercy nodded. "We will signal you when the matter is fully dealt with. Until then, tell none of what we have told you." "... is that all?" Zharn finally asked, still a little shaken. Truth nodded. "You are dismissed, fleetmaster," he spoke haughtily. "We will remember your assistance in this." With that, they turned away as one, whispering amongst themselves. Zharn saw a column of honour guards converge towards him, obviously intending to shepherd him out of the council chambers. "Wait!" he called back. "You summoned my... my special operations chief, Ahkrin Descol'ee, not two days ago. Is he caught up in all this too?" Truth turned his head over his shoulder, seeming to think for a few moments. Then he finally nodded. "He is instrumental to the quelling of this incident," the Prophet lectured. "Worry not, he should be safe. You will see him soon."