Author's Notes:

Theme for this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmbbnUt4CMY

The dull throb of the Phantom's engines rattled through the vessel's quarters, providing the only sound audible as the exhausted coalition of Equestrians and Separatists waited for the flight back to Canterlot to reach its end. None stood; all sat on the lavender craft's floor, leaned against the pitching walls or on each other, respective species clinging to one another for support in more ways than one.

The vessel's hold was dark, the blue eyes of the Elites casting an evanescent glow over the different species sheltered within the armored hull of the Type-52 drop ship as the Shipmaster guided it back to the East, to the mountainous fortress of Equestria's capital. With each shift in the floor, the metallic complaint of a pile of Covenant Remnant Elites' helmets in the corner rang quietly through the hold, reminding the Arbiter of the communicators they had planned to salvage along with the Covenant's vehicles and ammunition they had already helped themselves to.

The addition of Trottingham's denizens made the cabin quite cramped; refugees, Celestia had labeled them, and according to her, they were in need of shelter, which the Royal Palace could easily provide. It seemed she thought of her home as a place for the homeless as much as it was a castle. However, her school of thought was not so strongly represented within the Phantom; the princesses, along with the other Equestrians graced with the gift of flight, flew outside the craft to create room for those without wings.

The Arbiter, his back braced against one of the ventral doors with his hands folded against his armored thighs, couldn't help but notice the dependency of the Equestrians on each other; none of them sat alone. Their shock was evident in the expression of one foal who continually glanced his way, averting eye contact whenever the Elite turned his way like a game of bewildered peek-a-boo as, between fascination and fear, he gauged the newcomer. Many of the child's older kin did something similar, only their looks were much more suspicious. If the princesses were not outside the Phantom's hull, they would likely not be so peacefully awaiting the ride to Canterlot to end.

The Arbiter could only begin to imagine the torrents going through each of their thoughts at the moment. So many changes had come to these Equestrians in only a few hours, and one didn't need look very hard to see its evidence. His eyes wandered past Shining Armor, his crested helmet in his lap, as he sat close to his sister and the other Elements, and on to the other members of the Equestrian Guard, gathered around a salvaged red and white bed sheet in the hold's center, as their tired eyes blinked away in the darkness.

The Equestrians all looked to Chevron's concealed body the same way they had before, as if they expected him to rise any time, and the Arbiter could only shake his head. He knew it was wrong for him to think such a thing necessary, but then again, he had become so used to seeing scenes like these, scenes of the dead intermingled with the living. And despite the Equestrian soldiers shielding their fallen comrade from the civilians that shared the Phantom's hold, the weight of their sorrow seemed contagious even to those without armored hides.

As the Arbiter rested his head in his hands, he couldn't help but feel lucky that none of his own were lying beside Chevron's veiled body. His brothers in black rested beside him, and while he looked to them with gratitude simply for their drawing of breath, they returned the silent expression of thankfulness.

The Arbiter looked to Twilight, and waited for her eyes to meet his. When they met each other's gaze, the sterling Elite's voice rumbled over the engines and shivering turbulence in the darkness.

"I have yet to thank you," he said, and with his voice being the only presence in the shadow of the cabin, many silently looked his way.

"For what?" replied the unicorn mare, shooting back a quizzical look, "You were the ones that came and got us out of that town."

"And you were the ones who brought down a squadron of Covenant drop ships," the Arbiter furthered, addressing the other three Element Bearers in the cabin as well this time, and the drop ship lurched at a pocket of unstable air as the words left his mouth.

"So we're even," Applejack said in response, her drawling voice formless in the darkness, "We saved each other."

"I was not thanking you for saving my life," the Arbiter explained matter-of-factly, and he shot a brief glance to one of the SpecOps Elites at his side, "I was not alone in the path of the Covenant's attack run."

The silence following the Sangheili's words seemed heavier than the quiet of before, and as the vessel they occupied pitched and rolled lightly around them, the Arbiter furthered the conversation he'd struck. Upon pointing to Twilight's crown he addressed her, and many of the other Elites followed his finger with piqued interest.

"Your power is unlike anything I have seen," he said in compliment, "If you would grace me, I would listen to an explanation of its nature. How it was made, how it works."

There was no silence following this remark, as an alabaster mare sat up from amidst the company of the Elements with sapphire colored fire in her gaze.

"Why? So you can use it for your own?" shot back Rarity, her eyes' intensity far from her normal gentle expression, "Make a weapon of it?"

The Arbiter cocked his head at her, and those at his sides snorted their contempt.

"Tell me then, what exactly did you use it for today, if not a weapon?" countered the Arbiter, his voice far calmer than hers, "You think the Phantoms you downed were unmanned?"

Rarity leaned away from the Arbiter, curling up next to Pinkie Pie at her side a bit tighter; he'd obviously, however unintentionally, struck a nerve.

"I meant no offense," the Arbiter explained as he shifted his weight backwards, "I would be proud, had I done what you did today in my first battle."

"Maybe you would've," Applejack said, her resolved voice barely audible over the drone of the Phantom's engines, "But we're nothing like you."

The Phantom jolted suddenly, rattling as it did, and once it found smoother winds to fly on, Twilight once again spoke.

"The Elements of Harmony are the pinnacle of Equestrian magic," explained Twilight briefly, paying no heed to the earlier words, "They're used for maintaining the balance of things. Nothing more, nothing less."

The Arbiter chuckled, his mandibles curling into a toothy smile.

"What's so funny?" Pinkie Pie asked, intrigued by his laughter.

"Magic has always been the explanation for things that could not be explained by neither science nor our faith," came the response, "And here, you use it as the basis for everything. Your weaponry, your means of moving things, the appendage on your brow."

The Arbiter pointed to Rarity's horn as he spoke the words, and continued, "These things are all very tangible. I saw the wares of my people turned to stone by your magic, and this system's sun bend to the will of Princess Celestia, feats that are, by all means of reasoning, impossible. But with your magic, they became possible, and I cannot help but think it is something more. That was no illusion, nor was it a miracle... it was real."

"What are you trying to say?" asked Shining Armor sincerely as he too joined the conversation.

"I only mean to say that I believe there is more than sorcery at work here, and I would very much like to find out what it is."

Just then, a deep static voice came through the dense air of the cabin.

"We are nearing Canterlot," came the voice of the Shipmaster over the PA, "Prepare for landing procedure."

The Elites stood as the intercom went silent, and the Equestrians, being in a very foreign place, mimicked them as they came away from the ventral doors. The craft began pitching and rolling much more frequently, but while many of the Equestrians stumbled with the shifting surface they stood on, the Separatists stood erect, their balance unbroken.

The rolling Phantom ceased to pitch with a thud, and the ventral doors cracking their seal finalized the landing sequence. When the side doors reached their open position, the Equestrians eagerly returned to the earth of their homeland, jumping down from the cabin into the green, pristine lawn of the Royal Palace's courtyard. The princesses, pegasi Royal Guards, and the two winged Elements, Rainbow and Fluttershy, landed aside the lavender vessel with a grace unlike the cumbersome vessel's touchdown, and joined their kin. The princesses guided them, soldiers and citizens alike, into the palace, and entered their home behind them.

Bringing up the rear, careful to avoid the citizens, two Equestrian guards hauled the veiled body of Sergeant Chevron inside as well, and went in the opposite direction as the others upon passing through the threshold.

The Elites vacated the Phantom last, their weight making for heavy thuds as they jumped down into the trimmed grass. It seemed odd; the scene they'd boarded the Type-52 amidst was of fire and flames, and no small degree of blood shed, yet here, everything was quiet, still, exactly the way they'd left it. It was night, and the crickets were singing to their little hearts' content, the easy breeze blowing through the trees of the gardens like sylvan wind chimes a short distance from the grounded Phantom's hull. Everything was cast into a silver light by the moon in the cloudless sky above. The courtyard was calm, still... peaceful.

The Arbiter breathed in the air as if to take in its essence, and he stretched his beleaguered arms as the Hunters lumbered off with an escort of eight Elites, their weapons shouldered and their heads held high. From their stature to their atmosphere, they entered their temporary home very differently from the Equestrians that went in before them.

The Arbiter was the last to step down from the Phantom, and he watched his brothers go with an appreciation of their prideful gates. The sounds of the night called to him, and his eyes strayed from black combat harnesses to a distant tree amidst a hedgerow and a statuesque fountain as a nocturnal bird crooned to the moon from its branches. As he listened from a distance, he heard footsteps at his side, and looked over to see that Shipmaster 'Vadum had joined him.

"Have they swallowed their first taste of battle well," began the Shipmaster, watching the Equestrians disappear into the ivory walls of their palace, "or does it not sit right with them?"

Alone now, the Arbiter allowed his thoughts to come forth to his friend without the constraint of formality.

"Naught but two's hearts beat heavy," he admitted, nodding in the direction of the princesses just before they disappeared from view, "They proved seasoned, in my eyes. They are right to lead."

The Shipmaster nodded, tilting his head slightly as he rubbed the stumps of his missing mandibles.

"And what of the Captain?" asked the Arbiter with interest.

"He is honor bound," responded the Shipmaster, their subject no longer in sight, "He puts his duty before himself. A fine example he proves for his subordinates."

The Arbiter nodded partial agreement.

"Yes, but he sees war as separate from his duty."

The Shipmaster looked up at his counterpart.

"How so?" he said, his green eyes still intense, but nowhere near as luminous as they'd been in the heat of battle.

"He seems hesitant to kill," the Arbiter explained.

"This world is far different from ours," reflected the Shipmaster as he looked up to the pale crescent moon, "From the day we could stand, we were prepared to spill the blood of our enemies. Here, they would rather take care of one another than harm one another."

"And where is their fault there?" the Arbiter added, his words heavy in his chest, "Perhaps if our kind shared that sentiment, our race would not be in this mess."

"We've surmounted worse," the Shipmaster replied, clapping the Arbiter once on the shoulder as he gestured to the sword hilt on his hip, "Never lose faith, Thel, for these blades shall light our way."

"Speaking of blades," the Arbiter furthered with a lighter tone than before, "Tell me your opinion on training these Equestrians. If we are in this together, the least we can do is prepare them for the next battle we shall face."

The Shipmaster gave him a confused look, his mandibles slightly parted and his brow scrunched.

"You think it is coming so soon?" the Sangheili asked, his white armor redirecting the pale radiance of the night like polished glass.

The Arbiter nodded.

"I know it is."

He looked down, his weight shifting in hesitance on the dew wet palace lawn.

"What is it?" asked 'Vadum, knowing full well there was something bothering his brother in arms.

"I saw him," came the response.

"Who?"

"Vol," explained the Arbiter, his voice grim in the cool nocturnal air, "He looked right at me. I saw him take the Zealot, along with his loot of the town hall, into the hold of his craft as the Covenant landed outside the settlement. Gold-clad, weapons strewn, the symbol of wrath inscribed on his helm in crimson glyphs. It could have been none other than the Justiciar of Truth."

'Vadum nodded understanding, knowing full well the impact of such a thing on his leader's psyche; it wasn't important that Kar Vol had been seen, it was important that he'd escaped.

"When I closed in on the Remnant in the town's archives," continued the Arbiter, his tone low and rumbling, "I heard that Zealot speaking of their purpose."

"You think he was the third we never found from the day of our arrival?" asked 'Vadum, letting his hands fall to his hips.

"I know not," admitted the Arbiter as he shook his head, "but I do know the Remnant scanned the planet's surface already, but were unable to find the artifact they are so confident is here. They were searching the town hall for information, possible leads and clues."

"Then which was their real mission?" began 'Vadum, "This intelligence, or their landing party we destroyed?"

The Arbiter clicked his mandibles in thought, his boot pawing at the grass as his analytical mind ran details through and through.

"It is obvious which our foe thought was more important," he admitted, "Kar Vol attended the raid of the town, but was absent at the landing zone."

'Vadum nodded with an affirmative grunt, and crossed his arms as his ragged mandibles twitched.

"Perhaps the landing was a test, a diversion, meant to draw attention away from the town while they swept in and vanished without a trace," proposed the Commander as he leaned back on one leg.

"Perhaps," the Arbiter agreed methodically as thought preluded each phrase, "Vol always has seen those below him in rank as expendable. Such would also explain the meager size of the landing party. If he'd made landfall with the intention of staying, there would have been multiple sites of landfall of a much larger scale than what we saw today, and more of his fleet would have come down from orbit as well. We likely killed nothing more than sacrificial probes."

The Shipmaster shook his head in disgust.

"The rest of his clan is the same way," he growled, "They all carry little value for life in the wake of their pursuit of transcendence and communion with the weapons of the gods."

The Arbiter growled, his resounding bass note dying off in a frustrated groan.

"It matters not," he rumbled coarsely as he looked up to the stars, "Vol is far above us once again, safe within the belly of his battle-cruiser, and there is no feasible way we can reach him until he rears his ugly head once more."

The Commander kicked the dirt as he said, "We will likely have to go through more of his followers before that day comes."

"He has plenty of them," added the Arbiter, shaking his head before looking to their stolen Phantom and the amassed equipment latched unto its belly, "Let us hope we have acquired enough weapons batteries and ammunition from the landing zone to cope with the fathoms that circle us overhead."

The Shipmaster rumbled agreement.

"They could descend any time. We must be ready... the Equestrians too."

"I do not disagree that we need to prepare, but they also may bide their time," thought the Arbiter aloud, "We know we are safe from the power of their armada for now. They will not risk destroying the artifact, and so until they are sure where it is, they will refrain from plasma bombardment. And despite the obvious value of our heads, I believe they hold the wares of the gods much higher than our deaths. If anything, we will become a secondary goal for Vol and the Covenant."

"Regardless, I refuse to believe Thel 'Vadam and his band of warriors would not be a hearty prize for the Remnant dogs," chuckled the Shipmaster, prompting a meager smile from his counterpart.

"Use this courtyard as our vehicle bay," said the Arbiter as he began to walk away from the drop ship's hull, "We will store our pickings here, until the princesses ask us to move them elsewhere. And when the opportunity arises, move the console we found here as well once the princesses grant you access to their library."

"As you command, Arbiter," came the response, and the sterling warrior looked over his shoulder as 'Vadum began to go to work removing the Ghosts from the Phantom's belly, and driving them to their own improvised lot a small distance away.

"I will be in the dining hall," the Arbiter said over his shoulder as he walked away, "I presume that is where the others went. Once everything is secure, find me there. We will see to the communications devices and vehicle maintenance once we are well enough rested for our focus to be restored."

From the cockpit of the first Ghost to be unlatched from the Phantom, 'Vadum gave a nod while the Arbiter persisted towards the palace's nearest doorway.

Upon entering the palace through narrow doors, the Arbiter closed the entrance behind him, the sound of the doors' closing echoing through the empty hallway. The corridors were vacant as he made his way slowly to the dining hall, using memory as his guide. But, when he came into the cavernous dining hall, the table set by unseen servants as if nothing was awry, he found those he'd gone into battle with a short time ago.

Again, as they had been before, his own brothers and the Equestrian Guard were segregated, more by their own accord than anything else. There were no civilians in the hall; the Element Bearers were absent as well. The equines gathered at the close end of the elongated dining table, the Separatists on the far side. As the Arbiter went to join his own, he strode by the Equestrians in time to see solemn, tear stained faces, and vessels of liquid raised into the air.

"To Chevron," one of them said, and the others repeated the statement before they all swallowed the grief in their throats along with the drink in their cup.

The Arbiter reached his kin to find them all intently watching the Equestrians as he had.

"This is how they honor their dead comrade?" one of them asked aloud, and after the stallions had downed another round, the majority of the Elites turned away while the Hunters ambled near the walls behind them, "By quaffing alcohol?"

"Hrmph," another of the Sangheili muttered as his focus turned to the dining table's many organic culinary offerings, "I wish we had some. It may help us to swallow this vegetation, and finally sate this hunger."

A grumble went through the ranks, and another deep, raspy voice growled, "Gods, I long for some meat."

The Arbiter, unlike the others, didn't even try to choke down the Equestrians' salad. Rather, he keenly watched the nine Equestrian guards as they finished a third, then a fourth set of beverages, swaying in their seats as they drank without a trace of celebratory behavior. But then, he realized something... there were only nine, and Shining Armor was not among them.

As he watched them, he picked up movement behind the stallions near the doorway through which he'd entered. White armor and broad shoulders identified Shipmaster 'Vadum as he quickly made for the members of his own race, shooting a judgmental glance to the Royal Guards as he passed. When he reached the Arbiter's shoulders, the same doorway swung open again.

"The princesses," announced the Arbiter to the Commander at his side, giving a nod in their direction.

The alicorns in question stopped briefly by the other members of their race on the far side of the table, saying something unheard, and then continued on towards the other doorway on the wall of the hall opposite the one through which they'd entered.

"Where do you suppose they are coming from?" asked 'Vadum as he watched the alicorns walking away.

"Anywhere but here. Perhaps they honored the Sergeant their own way," came the response as the stallions swallowed yet another round.

The princesses did not even spare the Swords of Sanghelios a glance as they strode, still clad in their armor, across the hall, and exited through the doorway while amber and green eyes watched them go. As the door shut behind the sisters, the Arbiter took a stride away from the table, making for the East Wing.

"Where are you going?" asked the Shipmaster as his counterpart left.

"I do not hunger," he said over his shoulder, and with that, he left the dining hall.

Left with his ebony clad brothers, the Shipmaster watched the Arbiter disappear into a corridor through a third doorway in the hall, and his eyes oscillated between the doorways through which the Arbiter and the princesses had respectively traversed. His mind wandered, and eventually, his legs followed his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the Arbiter strode alone through a long corridor, his muscular arms swinging despite their fatigue from the day's effort. Though he made his way for his quarters to end the night, his mind as heavy as his armor, he passed on open door along the way which hadn't been so earlier in the day. Out of curiosity, he stopped midstride, and looked within to see a darkened room, a single light on to illuminate an armored stallion seated at a bar within the spotlight of the room's confided darkness.

Upon closer inspection, the Arbiter realized the identity of the bar's sole patron.

"Captain," he addressed quietly, causing the stallion to turn on his stool.

"Arbiter," came the reply, slightly slurred and ironically good natured as Shining waved the foreigner over to himself, "come on over. The Officer's Club caters to you as well, alien or not."

The Arbiter did as he was bid, walking through the darkness to be illuminated within the column of light encompassing the bar, and once he 'd looked Shining Armor in his hazy blue eyes, he took a seat beside him. The prince had three items on the counter before him. One was his helmet, gleaming in the light. The other two were a glass and a bottle; the bottle was half empty, and the glass was quite full.

As the Arbiter sat, Shining produced a second crystalline glass, the vessel's thick walls catching the light beautifully as it floated over from its place behind the counter in a light blue aura. The stallion offered the Sangheili a drink, pouring his glass until it nearly ran over, and clumsily slid it in his direction to be caught by gangly grey fingers.

"You are alone," the Arbiter observed aloud as the stallion celebrated his new company by finishing the contents of his glass, "The others are doing the same as you in the dining hall."

The stallion set his cup down heavily with a heaving sigh once it was empty, and he wiped his mouth with his forelimb as the glow from his horn alighted, and the bottle tilted in his telekinetic grip to refill the glass.

"That's why I'm here, not there," the Captain said slowly, his eyes a bit red around their irises, "The Officer's Club is as good a hole as any to hide in."

The Arbiter, not bothering to taste the drink he'd been offered, tilted his head at him.

"You hide?" he asked.

"I don't want them to see me like this," Shining responded methodically, gesturing sporadically to his own face, "The other guards, you and your Elites, the princesses, Twilight... especially Twilight."

The stallion let out another heavy sigh, shaking his head a bit.

"To be honest I was kind of hoping you wouldn't find me here."

The Arbiter nodded comprehension, and got up to go, but he felt a white hoof touch his hand as he turned to leave, and he looked back to see Shining had caught him.

"Please don't," the prince said quietly, his voice quaking a bit, "I thought I'd wanted to be alone, but alone is a very empty feeling right now."

"If you wish me to stay," the Arbiter rumbled good naturedly as he retook his seat, "I will."

The Captain seemed delighted by his smile, but his damp eyes told a of a different emotion.

Regardless, as the Arbiter's metal suit clanked against the wood of the stool he gave a sincere, "Thanks."

The Arbiter sucked in a breath, and gestured to the rapidly emptying bottle on the counter before his company.

"What is that sates your thirst?" he asked.

"Hard cider," responded the stallion with a meager smile, "Really hard cider. I'm afraid it's not hard enough, though. It's not working."

The Arbiter cocked his head again as he stated more so than he asked, "You drink to forget."

Shining gave a nod as he knocked back another glass full of amber drink.

"Odd," reflected the Arbiter aloud as he looked down a bit, "In my culture, the young cherish battle. The first trial of combat is a rite of passage to be undertaken by all, and to be celebrated upon completion."

Shining looked up with a hard, pained look in his eyes when his company had finished. The Arbiter was surprised by the reaction, and furthered his previous comment.

"I do not know whether or not this sentiment is sincere, but I have always found it an odd custom. There is no shame in hating the notion of war."

The stallion chuckled, the look in his eyes betraying the emotion of the rest of his face.

"I always thought it would be different," Shining said slowly, letting his glass sit for a short while.

The Arbiter turned to face him completely, and listened at tentatively as he went on.

"My whole life, I always wanted to be a soldier. I signed up about as young as you can, and I always prided myself on being a good Royal Guard. I received the highest marks possible on every test, every field trial they put me through. I was at the top of my class everywhere I went: Basic, Infantry School, Rangers, Officer Candidate Training, Advanced Combat Courses, even Special Forces. I made officer within eighteen months of joining. They told me that'd never been done before."

"Quite a history," the Arbiter complimented in monotone, nodding approval as his eyes turned slightly down once again.

"I've faced down monsters, tyrants," continued the Captain, his voice climbing slightly, "forces of evil so great, they cast the whole continent into shadow, and I did it all without spilling a single drop of blood."

The Arbited nodded approval once more, and again, complimented him, saying, "A feat, truly."

Shining took no heed of the Arbiter's words, and continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I... we all, rather, have the Elements to thank for it," he said, and he waved his hoof a bit theatrically as he added, "A more potent non-lethal weapon you will never find."

The Arbiter smiled to himself as the Captain finished, and chortling a bit, added, "I suppose turning your enemy to stone can be defined as non-lethal, so long as he is not at a height great enough that the fall would break him."

Again the Captain ignored the Arbiter's words, and went on, only now with a much sadder tone; he took another drink before he tried to go on again.

"But today, they weren't there," he said, his voice unsteady and throaty while he visibly choked back tears, "at least not in the valley. Our magical cure-all was absent, whether by fate or by our own choice you can decide, but for the first time, I had to apply what I've spent the better part of my life learning."

The Arbiter shook his head as Shining finished, and contributed some philosophy of his own.

"War is not something that can be taught," he said eloquently, his voice a deep, unthreatening growl, "Lessons do it no justice, and neither do the words of those who have experienced it to those who have not."

Shining went to refill his glass and before he swallowed another vessel full of cider, he said quietly, "That might explain the way I'm feeling. It's not the liquor that's pulling me apart."

He paused, staring into the bottom of his glass before he continued.

"I always thought it would be more instantaneous," he said carefully, his eyes still red but his speech no longer slurred, "In training, we practiced our sword fighting or our combative magic on dummies, statues, inanimate pieces of paper on a range. You hit the target, then you do it again and again until the drill is over. But you're all tough bastards. Today... the Covenant didn't just drop when they got hit. They thrashed, they tried to get up again, they screamed... oh, the screams.

"When you ambushed the patrol in the mountains, I didn't see any of that; I didn't see just how... horrendous it was. You all went invisible, we jumped into the trees, and as soon as the shooting started I protected the Elements with my body as they trained me to, then I buried my head in the dirt and waited for it to stop. I looked up, they were all already dead. Compared to what came later, it seems a miniscule thing, but if I told you I was unaffected by that, I'd be lying."

The Arbiter nodded, his fiery stare and set brow meeting the stallion's gaze in a look of understanding.

"I saw it in your eyes," the alien said simply.

"I tried not to show it," admitted the prince after a short pause, looking down again as he said the words.

"It is a look I have seen many times," the Arbiter said, leaning back a bit on his stool, "There is nothing else quite like it, yet it is not an emotion to be sought."

"You think the others saw it?"

The Arbiter shook his head 'no'; whatever relief such a gesture could yield was evident in the Captain's relieved sigh, and once his lungs were empty, he leaned forward again, and explained his consolation to his somewhat bewildered looking companion.

"In Officer Candidate School, the instructors taught us that we had to lead by example. They taught us never to show weakness, because such an act would hold the whole unit to a higher standard of excellence. They said that if you were feeling emotional, to leave, get it out, and come back stoic. My instructor described it as a war mask. You put it on, you become somepony else, and you don't let them see who you are underneath."

The Arbiter's brow relaxed a bit as he cocked his head to the side, and Shining Armor realized his predicament.

"I guess that whole concept went away as soon as I poured you a drink," he admitted, but the Arbiter only readjusted his weight.

"When I was very young, before my tenth name day, my uncle told me the legend of the Three Faces," he said slowly, "I remember it well; I believe it is relevant to your war mask."

The Captain's interest piqued with his left eyebrow's raising.

"Would you like to hear it?"

A nod beckoned that he continue.

"There once was a vagabond who carried with him three faces as he traveled between the great keeps of old. The first face he wore when he arrived at a new hold. This face bore an expression of neutrality, brow set into determination and mandibles curled against the wind, that he may be seen as no different from the others. Wearing his first face, he was tolerated by all."

Shining Armor leaned forward, drink in tow, as his much larger counterpart continued.

"The second face he wore when he had become accepted into a keep. This face was twisted into a smile, that others may see his mirth and merriment at having found a home. Wearing this face, he came to be loved by many."

The Arbiter straightened up before going on, and his voice descended in volume ever so slightly.

"But the third face he wore only when he left a keep. He only ever left at night, so that others may not see him as he went, for his third face was his own, and it was set into a frown. For he knew that no matter how others saw him, it made no difference. For in truth, he knew he was living a lie, that he could never live among those he had deceived into loving him or accepting him, for a lie is a dishonorable thing. And so, after stripping himself of his guises, he made for the next keep beneath the stars to try and find one that would accept him as he was, rather than as he pretended to be."

Taking a sip rather than a gulp now, the Captain commented monotonously, "Quite a story to tell a young one."

"I learned much from it," admitted the Arbiter, seizing his audience's attention once more, "You see Captain, we are all the vagabond... We all have three faces."

Shining paused, his glass frozen tilted precariously towards his lips, and as his reddened eyes squinted a bit at the Arbiter, he set the drink down and leaned forward on the counter against his forelimbs, his attention on the alien's shadowed, downturned brow at his side.

"The first is the face we wear the most often, in the presence of strangers and in crowds. This is the face we want others to see. It is a mask, the most deceptive of the three. In this face are the expectations we are held to, and because it is influenced by perception, it is the least true, the least pure."

The Arbiter looked up a bit, and placed his right arm on the counter at his side as he faced Shining before he slowly continued on.

"The second is the face we show our friends, our family, also a guise but more honest than the first. This face is an indicator of trust, for we trust those we show this face to enough to reveal the emotions we feel regardless of what we are expected."

He paused again.

"The third, the true face, is the most elusive. Most never see another's, for it is often concealed in one's thoughts. Too often, only we know our third face's appearance. But, the third face is the most pure, the most transparent, like a mountain lake on a still day. It is the face of one's true self."

Shining held a stare with the Arbiter's amber eyes for a moment before he sniffed, and then reassumed his previous posture of leaning on the counter and looking into the bottom of his glass. Though the stallion had looked away, the Arbiter went on.

"Your first face is the scowl of a warrior, Captain," he said slowly, "but your second face is one of fear."

The prince looked back to the Arbiter, his expression nearly expressionless beneath the gleam of his silver helm, and while Shining's lips pursed and his eyes squinted, the Arbiter remained emotionless.

"You are young enough to have never faced true loss before, and now that it bears down on you, you cannot help but fear that everything you know, everything you love, will die."

Shining sniffed again, his face seemingly unchanged, and looking into the Arbiter's eyes, asked, "You think me a coward?"

"No."

His eyebrows raised, and one hoof let itself fall into a half hearted shrug.

"You just said my second face, my more honest mask, is one of fear."

The Arbiter's head tilted, and he looked away for a moment as his thoughts gathered into words.

"Yes, but despite your fear today, you fought," he explained, "You did not allow the voice of hesitation in the back of your mind to control you. You resisted your instincts telling you to run, to hide, to live, and you risked death because you knew you had to in order to fulfill your duty. You were brave when you were afraid, and such is the purest form of courage. Your second face is far more revealing, far more noble, than the mask of gold that you wear."

Shining gave another insincere chortle, and looked away as he said, "You speak like you've known the feeling."

The Arbiter likewise avoided eye contact as he countered the prince's assumption.

"Sangheili do not know fear," he growled, "We do know reason, however, and we respect the very potent and ever present threat death poses to us all. In this way, you are far braver than I. Death is expected of me as Arbiter, and so I have made a goal of meeting my end in the fires of battle. I do not fear death, I must welcome it, for my duty demands it."

Shining looked back to him for a moment, and with a subtle twitch of his mandibles, the Arbiter furthered, "At least, I would say it is so to you."

Shining cocked his head.

"What do you really think?"

The Arbiter grinned.

"My war mask is not pried off so easily, Captain."

Shining shook his head and looked away again, smiling a bit at the cryptic giant at his side, and after a deep sigh, asked, "So if death is a goal for you, what is it you fight for?"

Again, the Arbiter's chest heaved in a tired, silent laugh as he gauged Shining's naivety.

"You Equestrians love to ask that question," he mused, "I believe it will be asked many more times before it receives an answer, simply because I do not know how to convey it to you yet. Explaining it would be very... arduous."

Shining sought the Arbiter's eyes before he said, "It seemed like death was a goal for more Elites than just you, today."

The Arbiter, again, cocked his head.

"Your kinsmen in the valley... I don't understand why they charged us. It was suicide."

The Sangheili sat up straight, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

"It was meant to be," he said.

This did little to console the stallion, as he visibly grew more distraught, and he held his shaking head in his hooves as his voice grew in volume.

"I mean, the one that nearly got me... his arm was ripped to pieces, his face was half seared off. He would have been dead within the hour. Why not seek medical attention? Why not try to live another day? We could have helped him if he'd surrendered."

The Arbiter's arms remained crossed as his head dipped a bit.

"To do so would disgrace him," came a baritone voice, "but to fight even a doomed battle would make for an honorable, a beautiful death."

Shining's face contorted into an expression of doubt.

"They charged us for honor?" he asked, his tone disbelieving, "They tried to kill us for honor?"

"You do not understand," the Arbiter began, his voice impassioned, "A warrior's blood, his life essence, is his honor given form. To give this life essence fully and completely in battle, whether for victory or upon defeat, with vigor in the hearts and willingness in the breath, is the highest honor, the highest calling my people are held to. He would have died purely, and he would have reflected greatness on his bloodline. The Warrior's Way would have come to an end for him, and it would have done so in the perfect manner; a warrior who dies fighting in battle ends his life as he lived it, and such is the substance of the ballads of the heroes of old. He would have been hailed among them, and the gods would have rewarded his dedication as a pilgrim on the Great Journey with an eternity in paradise."

Shining Armor shook his head, struggling to understand.

"All that for honor?" he speculated, "Sounds more like glory than honor to me."

The Arbiter's head lowered.

"Honor is the cornerstone of my people's culture. We may differ on certain views, but on this, all Sangheili agree. We all may die, but he who dies with honor will live forever, in song and story, in the heavens, and in the memory of those who live on."

Shining Armor shook his head, and swirled the cider in his glass hesitantly. His forelimb began twitching rhythmically as his weary head swayed, and his breathing grew heavier as something within him boiled over.

Eventually, his eyes still locked on the counter, he said in a calm voice, "If honor is so important to your kind, then why was there any need for Chevron to die?"

The two locked eyes, the Arbiter with surprise in his gaze and Shining with a hybrid of pain and anger in his.

"See, here, on this world, honor is in lowering yourself to help another, in giving up yourself for the good of somepony else," said Shining, his voice growing louder, "Honor is a selfless thing in my culture; we don't ask to be remembered or rewarded.

"Chevron died with honor. He died trying to protect his friends, his family, the things he loved, from a force they'd done nothing to instigate aggression from. All he wanted was to give back, so that through his service, what he stood in protection of might remain safe. But your race came, and killed him brutally, painfully, more painfully than I can probably imagine, and why? Because he tried to stop them from killing innocent, defenseless farmers? What honor is there in that?!"

Shining seemed to collapse a bit as his voice carried out of the room and off down the hallway, and he desperately reached for his drink to knock back more numbing cider. His nerves seemed to calm as he grimaced against the liquor's burn, and somewhat calmer albeit drunker now, he managed to give an insincere, unconvincing smile in the Arbiter's direction.

"I guess that's just how different we are, huh?" he said, leaning on the counter for support once again, "It's just, I ordered him to go to Trottingham. I ordered him to go to his death, and I... I can't let that go. And even if I apologize to his tombstone when we put him under tomorrow, he'll never know just how sorry I am for that."

Shining hid his eyes again as he looked down, his voice cracking as he finished, and he wiped at his cheek as he attempted to conceal a tear's falling.

"Arbiter, when I ask you what it is you fight for," the stallion continued quietly, "it's because here, war is something to be abhorred. War isn't something taken lightly, and there better be a damn good reason for me to try to take another's life. I don't doubt that we have to fight the Remnant, but there isn't any reason for them to be fighting us, to be shooting at mares and foals in their homes, or as they run away."

He coughed, and sniffed once again.

"It just seems like the other members of your race are fighting and killing simply because they enjoy it, and they justify it with a Great Journey and an estranged concept of wrathful war gods. So when I ask you what it is you're fighting for, it's because I don't want to be one of the bad guys. I don't want to be drinking with a monster, one just as bad as the ones that attacked Trottingham today. I ask you because I need to know if we've made allies with angels, or with demons. Because at the end of the day, Equestria is, and always has been, a force for good, and I need to know if you are in fact one of the good guys. So eventually, I'm going to need to know why you're fighting."

The Arbiter paused, finally poured the contents of the glass Shining had offered him into his mouth, and after setting the vessel back down on the counter, he removed his helmet and placed it aside the glass. With his right hand he rubbed his forehead while his other hand balled into a tense fist.

"Good? Evil?" he growled slowly, an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before, "By what scale of justice do we measure our actions?"

Shining Armor looked to the Arbiter to see his head shaking, and his eyes impassioned as well as stricken with emotion, a mix of pain, regret, memory and frustration making his eyes seem to glow. His voice climbing only slightly from its prior volume, the Arbiter spilled over as Shining's bottle nearly ran dry, his words humid in the quiet, dark atmosphere of the Officer's Club.

"We use survival as our justification for fighting, and the Remnant uses the gods as the rectification for their deeds," he began, "My kind has had everything taken from us... our society, our culture... even our lives, yet our faith has always been there for us. For some, it is all that is left. We were raised beneath the divines, and our religion has proved to be our salvation many times over. Is it not, then, worth fighting for?"

Shining leaned forward, forgetting his drink as he invested in the Arbiter's words.

"It is always easy to see everything as good and evil, right and wrong. But it is never so simple," he growled, shaking his head slowly, "I have seen horrible things done in the name of good, and I have seen good things, merciful things, done by the evil. There is never truly a course of events so simple as good and evil, but this is how we choose to see it."

The Arbiter paused, and his tensed hands relaxed slightly as his head hung lower. His mandibles twitched uneasily, and for a moment, the room was absolutely silent.

"But in truth, once total victory has been achieved," he began again, routing the quiet, "he who still stands will define good and evil. Should the Covenant Remnant win, we shall all be spoken of as heretics and blasphemers, and the deeds we've done with mal-intent, and there have been many, will become our legacy. Should we win, the Remnant will be the ones who are condemned as fanatics and extremists, as the servants of false gods, and their dishonorable actions, also numerous, will be the story of their remembrance."

Shining Armor was paralyzed, his counterpart's words ensnaring him like a physical trap, as the Arbiter went on.

"I suppose a part of the answer to your question regarding why I oppose the Remnant is because I have seen the fraudulence of the Prophets' teachings. I have seen the fruits of the Covenant's faith, and our gods were not among them. Do I believe in the gods? Yes; to me they are as real as the air in my lungs. But can I continue along the Great Journey? No.

"I know now that zealous followers can be manipulated, and I have chosen to be my own warrior rather than the pawn of another. But for most within the Remnant, this revelation has not yet come, and so they see me as a traitor, a heathen and a conspirator simply because I found the truth, and the truth was not what we had been told. I, and those that fight with me, know our true enemy was the ideas the Prophets let grow, but for many within my race, they only saw foes in the Prophets' flesh.

"It is strange how morality changes. Many years ago, I would have seen my actions today in much the same light," he said, "Morality is decided by each and every one of us, and we fight for what we believe in if our conviction is strong enough. I believe my people can only thrive again if we make peace with our enemies of old, and this can only be done once the Remnant and its sins, its festering, poisonous beliefs, are no longer a force to be feared."

Something changed in the Arbiter's posture as he paused; he sat up taller without moving, and he leaned forward to his company without coming any closer, and his words, while he spoke barely above a whisper, boomed like thunder.

"You decide your goods and your evils, but decide first what you believe Captain," he said, the stallion he spoke to transfixed, "because before all this is over, good and evil will become intertwined, and even Equestria itself may become stained."

With that, the alien stood, and upon replacing his helmet firmly on his head, he gave an elegant bow before he turned to go. Shining was left as he had been, alone with an emptier bottle and his helmet for company in the meager light of the bar, yet before the Arbiter's receding footsteps disappeared, his voice came through the dark.

"I am sorry," he said, something paternal and sincere in his deep, resounding voice, "that your sergeant died."

Shining sniffed, not bothering to turn towards the Arbiter as he spoke.

"I see that you are in pain, and that this pain has led you to see me and my kind as savage, violent creatures," the outlander's smooth voice, formless in the shadows, continued, "But I pray one day that you will see the Sangheili as our few graces, rather than our many shortcomings."

Again, Shining Armor sniffed, taking another drink to nearly empty the cider he'd taken such a recent liking to.

"Your armor has been corrupted today, Shining, but that only signifies that you have had your metal tested. And feel how you may, your life as a soldier has been christened, and you have reason to take pride in the armor you wear from now on."

With that, he turned to go, his steps becoming more distant with each passing moment.

"Rest well," he said over his shoulder near the entryway to the Club, "I will see you on the morrow."

"Good night," Shining slurred in response, his tone devoid of mirth, "Sweet dreams."

The last sound that reached the stallion's ears, after the last of the Arbiter's echoing foot falls, was his baritone voice's response.

"Doubtful."

Meanwhile...

Celestia winced as her armor came off, the blood coating the fur of her chest sticking to her breast plate as she peeled it free of her tired, dirty body. She'd all but forgotten this part; fighting had always been a part of being Equestria's leader, but while the emotions and sights of combat never faded, the many things that accompanied it, the fatigue, the bottomless feeling of dread and the ache of an entire body rent useless by overuse, felt new every time. She had begun to associate this armory with such a cocktail of emotions. She now hated coming here.

Slowly, she inspected the spot of crimson in her alabaster coat, tracing the lines where the blood had run down her breast back to a spot of new, shallow scar tissue alongside her sternum. The pain had yet to fade, and she grit her teeth again as her horn alighted, and her breastplate found its resting place on a mannequin matching her own dimensions.

As she liberated herself from her shell, the mannequin became more encumbered, until it was dressed as she had been. Yet, her coral eyes were drawn to the perfectly circular hole in the breastplate, the metal around the round puncture warped and burned to black. She strayed from her armor for a moment, and her wandering gaze found her spear on its weapons rack. Its white blade still had spots of indigo staining its elegance.

With a sigh, she found a polishing cloth, normally the tool of the presently absent quartermaster, and began scrubbing away. As the blade began to shine again, she heard the Royal Armory's door creak open behind her, and the metallic sound of horseshoes approached.

She turned to see Luna coming to join her, a hollow smile on her face; Celestia saw right through the false look of calm, focusing on the more honest emotion of solemnity in her sister's dark eyes.

"Celestia," the Princess of the Night began firmly yet gently as she removed her own silver helm, and placed it on her own mannequin a small distance away, "You left without seeing to the accommodations of the citizens from Trottingham."

Celestia sighed uneasily, and turned to go back to her blade, polishing hard to restore the weapon's luster it had before the day's events.

"Just, see that they are kept in the East Wing," she said dismissively over her shoulder.

No answer came at first, but the unmistakable sounds of armor meeting wood made it obvious that Luna's armor was coming off much faster than her sister's had.

"That is where the Elites are being kept," began the younger of the two again as she removed her sword, still in its scabbard, from her waist, and strung in on her own weapons rack adjacent her armor mannequin, "Are you sure they should be accommodated in such proximity?"

"West Wing, then," Celestia groaned, and the cloth pressed harder on the razor sharp point of her spear as a particularly adhesive splotch of dark, dried blood was coaxed from the weapon's metal; she unwillingly remembered the Elite whose blood she was cleaning up.

Hoof steps approached the white alicorn from behind, and a gentle wing alighted on her shoulder as to turn her away from the weapon and towards her sibling.

"Is something wrong?" Luna asked, her midnight blue eyes sincere in their concern for her sister.

Celestia's expression remained hard, and Luna brought out one of her old standbys: sarcasm.

"Apart from your obvious distress?" she furthered, her eyebrows cocking as her sister fought off a laugh.

"Stress and distress are quite different," explained Celestia as she turned to go back to her equipment, "I only have a burdened mind at the moment."

"Humor me with your struggles of thought, then," Luna persisted, trying to turn her sister around with words rather than her touch again.

Celestia pretended to be invested in the maintenance of her wares as she first finished her work with her spear, and then went to her armor, rubbing bits of dirt and grime from its gilded exterior with her breath as a polish.

"I know not what to do next," she said quietly without turning from her armor set, the golden metal standing proudly on the false wearer it had recently adorned, "If I should prioritize Equestria over the rest of the world."

Luna's apprehension was obvious in her lack of a response.

"The Remnant is space capable," continued Celestia, finally concluding with her armor and focusing on the real issues before her as she turned to look her sister in the eye, "They have only landed in Equestria so far as we know, but that does not mean that they cannot land elsewhere. I wonder if some degree of secrecy regarding the aliens is more important than warning the other kingdoms, if they have not already made contact on their own."

"Secrecy?" Luna laughed nervously, "The Remnant and the Swords of Sanghelios saw to the destruction of a governmental building today, while nearly twenty civilians looked on. If we still have any secrecy, it will not last. The only question now is how we shall break our silence about the Arbiter's presence without causing a panic among the populace."

Celestia groaned again.

"Speaking of which, we will have to repair Trottingham that its citizens may return home," she said, her voice monotonous and low, "I had given a fleeting thought to deploying the Corps of Engineers to rebuild the town hall and clean up the damage caused by the Covenant's falling stone ships. If all goes right, we should be vacant of any guests of our own species within four days."

Celestia felt her pulse in her temple, and she shook her head as she insincerely laughed, as if trying to convince herself of something, at her own choice of words.

"And all this is yet another stress on my mind."

"And why should you face these troubles alone?" Luna beckoned, stepping forward with strength in her voice and her stride, "I am here, I can help you. I know you have led Equestria for far longer than I, but I am your sister still. If you need me, I am here, as I expect you to be there for me as well. And if you should need a more practiced diplomat than I, there are things that can be done to notify the leaders of the other nations. Tauren, Zebrica, even Griffindale I am sure will come to our aide if only we ask, and the contribution of the Crystal Empire's power is but a petition away; we already have their prince working for us."

Celestia looked away.

"I'm not so much worried about my own ability to make a decision, nor the commitment of our allies, though we have yet to notify them of what has transpired here. My mind turns elsewhere, even while I think of these truths you bombard me with."

Luna came forward again, now face to face with Celestia, and the two met eyes.

"Is it your wound?" asked the younger, looking at Celestia's stained hide.

"I'm fine," the white alicorn answered, turning away, "It was nothing."

Luna cocked an eye, reaching out towards the wound.

"May I see it?" she asked.

Celestia reluctantly agreed, and Luna, with a clean polishing cloth, rubbed away the dried blood in her sister's fur until a circular patch of new, hairless flesh was visible through the red.

"You will have a meager scar," she concluded, looking at the hole she herself had patched earlier, "Luckily the engagement ended in time for us to seal the wound before permanent damage could set in."

Celestia turned away once more.

"Again, I have suffered worse. We both have," she responded, "The armor's enchantment held true, though I shall have to commission a new breastplate. The weapons of the aliens are quite potent to have made it past the magic's shield."

Celestia went back to a mirror near her mannequin, and rubbed the very raw area of skin on her torso while she herself inspected the damage.

"You say you are fine," Luna said from behind, "but not all wounds are of the flesh."

Celestia sighed as she looked at her reflection as if it was a stranger, and slowly looked away, turning back before admitting, "I am worried, Luna, not for myself, but for them. The Elements, the guards... Equestria... the world even."

Luna tilted her head to the side, and her brow furrowed in the slightest as Celestia went on, her eyes wider than before and her voice a bit off from her regular, confident tone.

"The families from Trottingham... you saw their faces, they were terrified," she said, shaking her head as she recalled the memory, "Foals, mares, even stallions nearly crippled in fear, and for good reason. They were farmers, politicians, some worked for newspapers and others sold general goods. They were not soldiers, not champions, yet when they fled into the streets of the town the Remnant showed no hesitation before trying to kill them as well. This Remnant... they killed one of ours today, and he was among the most capable ponies in the Royal Guard. I shudder to think how many more that would have been without our newfound allies."

Luna's expression softened, but her eyes remained stern, focused, and she beckoned with her silence that Celestia went on.

"Fear runs rampant through Equestria. Everywhere these aliens go, terror follows. Even I... I believe we are not ready for what is coming," Celestia said, having a degree of trouble retaining her tact, "You and I are guardians of this nation, and we've stood in defense of Equestria together... we were alone but the two of us were together... until recently the Elements were bequeathed to the others. What I am trying to say so ineloquently is that the eight of us... you, I and the Element Bearers, we cannot fight the Remnant alone."

"I understand," Luna said, casting away her sister's somewhat rambling delivery and focusing on what she had to say, "And I agree."

"What we saw today," continued Celestia slowly, looking down as if she were thinking aloud rather than holding a conversation, "with the Elements of Harmony strung about our bodies we faced Discord eons ago, Tirek and Sombra centuries ago, but the armies of the Covenant are here and now, and they are not like them. They are not a single entity we can face at once, and they are not localized to Equestria. They are an army, and they do not reside on this world where we can reach them. I don't know how to fight them off. We have no experience with an enemy like this, and I fear we may not have any experience to go off of."

A sudden masculine voice interrupted the siblings' dialogue, and the two drew in a surprised breath upon hearing it.

"So use mine," came the entity from the armory's entrance, and Luna whirled around adjacent her sister to see Shipmaster 'Vadum standing in the doorway, his green eyes piercing even from across the room.

"Shipmaster," Luna said on an exhale, hiding her surprise at seeing him, "I was not aware you had left your Elites."

"But I was fully aware you left your ponies," he answered, tilting his head downwards slightly as he subtly opened his hand in their direction.

He took a tentative, silent step towards them, looking around the room with a predatory focus. He seemed to take special notice of the armor mannequins and weapons racks, as well as the stainless ivory walls.

"So this is your armory?" he said admiringly as he closed the distance between himself and the Royal Sisters by half, "Elegant... refined. A very peaceful atmosphere, ironically."

"The nature of our martial wares is scarcely what brought you here," Celestia said, apprehensive about the alien's presence in no uncertain terms, "so please be forthcoming with your true intentions."

"They are hardly so sinister," he said, reaching out to touch Luna's sword only to have his fingers hover over the blade, "My fascination with weaponry is simply a curiosity. One can learn much from a civilization by a few things: their military, their hierarchy, how they bury their dead."

He turned his gaze towards them as he finished, and found a pair of very uncomfortable stares locked onto him; when he looked carefully, he could nearly see the beginnings of an aura, and the faint distortion of heat about the sisters' horns. But still, he held the gaze, and continued to approach them, ignoring the weaponry he had been previously transfixed on.

"I thought I would inform you how Sergeant Chevron died," he said suddenly, his voice confusingly between ominous and calm.

He received no verbal response, but Luna's eyes darted briefly to her sister at her side.

"He had a sword thrust through his gullet, but not before being decimated by plasma rounds," continued the Sangheili as he took a few prowling steps closer, only to stop once the gleam of Celestia's spear seized his eye.

"I'm afraid I never saw his body until he was already shrouded. The Arbiter told me what I know," he admitted as he admired the princess' weapon, his fingers curling above his sword at his side as he focused on the irradiating white gem set just below the blade's guards.

Suddenly, he turned away from the weapon as quickly as he had taken to it, and refocused on the alicorns in the room.

"Did you see him?" he asked.

"We recently put him to some degree of rest in preparation for his funeral," Luna responded hotly, advancing a few steps in the Shipmaster's direction on her own, "But apart from that, we were the ones who issued the order to cover him, so that fillies and old mares didn't see his body as we herded them to safety, away from your kind in Trottingham."

The Shipmaster froze, and his head lowered to cast his scarred face into a shadow. His armor, however, seemed to glow in the well lit room, and the beginnings of a small growl rumbled in his belly.

"Hmm. You still see the Remnant as my kind," he said quietly, his gaze downturned, "as if we had anything in common."

The princesses glanced at each other, confirming that neither of them were making any sense of the outlander's odd behavior.

"This sergeant," he began again suddenly, "was there anything left of his body?"

"Enough to bury," responded Celestia, no small degree of suspicious aggression in her tone.

"So that is what you do with your dead?" came the answer, and the Shipmaster's head cocked ever so slightly as he said the words.

Finally, with an authoritative step in the Shipmaster's direction, Luna asked the question the alicorns had thought since he'd first entered their presence.

"Why are you here?"

"To ensure that you know he died because he was unprepared," came the immediate response, equally authoritative and much more menacing, "His enemy was stronger than he, and seeing as you introduced him as one of Equestria's finest, you must be able to conclude that there will be thousands more like him, if not millions. And for many, there will be nothing left to bury."

Luna recoiled slightly at the Shipmaster's sudden snarling tone, and as Celestia came to her side, 'Vadum continued.

"You saw a fraction of the Remnant today, a splinter of their power," he beckoned, "If they had wanted to, they could have obliterated the lot of us from orbit and been done with this world hours ago."

"It's only been a day and a half since we first met," scoffed Celestia, doubt pervading her tone.

"Then you understand my implication."

The alicorns' glared, then recoiled, sharing a glance before Luna thought up a very obvious question.

"So why are we still here?" she said as she raised her eyebrows at the Shipmaster.

It was 'Vadum's turn to recoil now, and his methodic advance stopped as his head lowered and his remaining mandibles parted.

"They are looking for something," he said, no longer imposing but rather somewhat amicable now, "and they know not where to search."

Luna, a degree of the tension in the room evaporated, stepped forward, and much more comfortably, said, "You already gave us this lecture, and we have already told you we know nothing that could possibly relate to an ancient religious artifact on this world."

The Shipmaster, opened his hand towards Luna as his thoughts became words.

"That does not disprove its existence," he reasoned, a hissing passion in his voice as he seemed to be trying to convince the Royal Sisters rather than inform them.

"Why are you here, if not to feebly try and perplex us," Celestia asked as she came up behind her sister, her voice too much less hostile than it had been.

"I came with an offer," he answered, his chest expanding a bit as he drew in breath, "for a more... permanent alliance between us."

The sisters didn't respond, and the ivory Elite came closer, now standing no less than a few steps before them.

"All graces we owed one another from our first encounter have been played out," he explained, "but there is still much we can gain from one another."

The alicorns shared an uncomfortable glance, the tension in the room returning in an instant.

"For example," he went on, "I can help you and your forces prepare to meet the Remnant on the next field of battle, so that cases such as the dead sergeant..."

"He had a name," interrupted Luna coldly, glaring now at the Shipmaster with her jaw set.

"Sergeant Chevron... are an inconsistency," he corrected with indifference, "And for example, you can help me look for the subject of the Remnant's obsession."

The Shipmaster's voice grew a bit more excited as he went on, bent on swaying the sisters' obvious hesitancy.

"My Elites and I know the Remnant. You and your subjects know the intimacies of this world: history, geography... weaponry," he shot a brief look at Celestia's spear for a moment, "like the Elements of Harmony. In short, I know our enemy, and you know the terrain on which we shall fight. As we are, we are two separate arms flailing on their own. But, by combining our knowledge and experience, we can put a single coherent mind to our respective factions' actions, and with solidarity, we can operate as a united, stronger, whole. In exchange for a sum of your kind's knowledge on weaponry, science, history and geography, and the Palace Courtyard as a base of operations, I vow to prepare Equestria to fight the Covenant, and with our newly stolen vehicles and the listening device, the console you found in the hills, we are very prepared to do so."

Luna leaned forward, her wings fluttering a bit at her side as she readjusted them into a more comfortable position, and reflected aloud, "You say you want knowledge, but first grant me some of yours. Why is it the Remnant seeks this artifact?"

The Shipmaster gave her a confused look.

"Who would not seek kinship with the divine?"

Unsatisfied with the answer, Celestia added, "But what caused you to see your deities as worthy of godhood."

The Shipmaster shrugged, his mandibles twitching before he offered up an answer.

"Power?"

"Power is an axe," Luna responded without hesitation, "It can be used to build or to destroy. It only depends on who wields the blade."

"So then, Shipmaster," continued Celestia, picking up the topic again, "if we were to unlock the power of this... artifact, whatever it may be, for what purpose would you use it?"

"The only purpose that makes sense," came the baritone response, "Ridding the Remnant from the galaxy, by any means necessary."

Luna looked down as Celestia sighed, saying, "That's what I thought."

"We will consider your offer, Shipmaster," yielded Luna, "but council must be made before a decision can be reached."

The princesses went to leave, believing their hearing of the Shipmaster's proposition to be over, but as their backs turned and their long legs carried them towards the exit, a deep voiced growl barked at them from behind.

"You protect this kingdom like mothers protect their children."

The alicorns froze and slowly turned, and when the Shipmaster read the look in their eyes, his own gaze seemed to lighten with the glint of an epiphany.

"Did you birth Equestria?" he asked quietly, "Did you found this nation?"

His answer was a very affirmative, "Yes."

"Has this spear, and this sword, then, been with you since you first undertook that task?" he asked, looking to the weaponry with that calculating spark behind his emerald gaze; he received no response as the sisters suspiciously gauged him

"I wonder," he extended, transfixed again, "how many lives' blood has been washed from these elegant blades? No less than those you killed today, and that was no small number."

He turned back to the sisters, his fists tensed at his sides, and as his brow lowered, his growling words came forth with enough weight to be felt at the core.

"Power may be an axe, Princess. But before you build a single home, you must first cut down many trees for lumber. War is my power, and I know not whether your kind's dabbling in war has been anything like mine, but now our wars are the same. And I know war is not a victory march. So if you want to keep this nation, your child, alive, you will have to add significantly to the number of lives your weapons have claimed, and pray it is enough to keep your citizens from joining Sergeant Chevron in whatever place it is you believe you go when you die."

Celestia stepped forward, and while her voice was no louder than the 'Vadum's, it carried just as much authority.

"The eagerness with which you speak of killing and death is exactly what causes my hesitation to share our knowledge of weaponry with you, Shipmaster, even if your own arsenal is somewhat comparable. And the same goes for helping you find this relic your kind seeks."

"Never mind weaponry... for the time being," ;Vadum persisted, "What is more important now is that I help you search for whatever it is the Remnant is looking for. If we can find it first, we just may have a chance against them. But I lack the tools I once used to find such artifacts, and so I am asking to borrow yours."

The sisters did not even flinch, and remained unyielding of an answer at the moment, and so the Sangheili sighed.

"May I at least have the commitment of the courtyard?" he grumbled, "A vehicle bay, as well as training grounds, are a necessity to the upkeep of my people's martial tradition."

Celestia gave a meager bow of her head, saying, "You may."

"Then I shall take my leave," 'Vadum said amicably, giving a very polie, elegant bow, "'Til the dawn, Princess. I await your decision."

And with that, he turned, and as silently as a ghost, left the way he came.

"Hey, Fluttershy, are you awake?"

The raspy voice cut through the darkness, barely disrupting the bedroom's silence.

"Mhm," came the soft voiced mare, and the stir of her turning beneath her blanket, the squeak of the sofa she was resting on, confirmed she had yet to fall asleep.

The response floated through the air of the luxurious Canterlot bed chamber, but for how complacent the room was, its residents could find no solace.

"Me too," responded a third voice, that of Rarity, and more tossing and turning accompanied her admittance.

"Sounds like none of us can rightly sleep," came a drawl from a chair on the far side of the room, the moonlight illuminating Applejack's slumped figure beneath a blanket, her hat turned down over her awake eyes.

"Except Spike there," added Pinkie Pie, nodding to a lump beneath a sheet on the floor atop a pillow; the lot of the sleepless mares looked to him with something akin to envy.

"Clear conscience," reflected Rainbow, looking away towards the silver-lit window as the dragon in question emitted a growling snore.

"You all feel guilty too?" asked Rarity.

"Yeah," admitted Applejack quietly, before adding, "and afraid."

"You really think what the Arbiter said was true?" asked Fluttershy, her voice uneasy but not quite trembling.

"How many of them do you think were inside the ships?" asked Rarity.

Suddenly, Twilight, who had been silent prior, jutted in.

"Don't think like that," she reprimanded.

"How can we not, Twilight," shot back Rainbow, her tone masking a trace of pain, "We can't just forget it. This isn't something we can ignore."

"Not to mention what might come tomorrow," added Applejack, and a sound like a sigh came from somewhere in the room.

"Stop," Twilight rebuked again, "We'll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes, and we're not going to talk about today anymore because it's in the past. It isn't important. What's important is that we're all okay. We don't know what will come next, but we'll at least have each other."

The mare rolled over to face the window as she finished, and the room grew quieter as she looked to the stars beyond the pane of glass.

"And that's all that matters."